Reply To: A Street Team? Is that what they're called?

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Ariella Newheart

Hey, @wordsmith! I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Ariella, as you can probably tell. *squints at nametag* Unfortunately I don’t have Facebook either, but reading your introduction paragraph made me want to be a part of whatever is going on here. 😛 Here’s my resume: INFJ (meaning I make extroverted energy for other people to use), illustrator, writer (of course), perfectionist (especially when it comes to my writing), and book enthusiast.

Reading your snippet, I am finding myself liking the writing style and description. I feel the action. The only thing I’m confused about is where exactly Keith is. I know he is fighting soldiers in a town, but I have no real sense of the setting and what is around him. I assume that question would be answered if I read more of the chapter, but just reading the snippet I was confused. Also, I noticed a couple small grammatical errors, but they’re easily fixed.

So…I share something of my own now? Hm.

Zillah kept careful watch as she prowled through the night. Everywhere in the darkness, sentries might lurk. She could almost feel their eyes following her every movement. Her leather clothing was dark, but the pale skin of her exposed arms and face was easy to spot, like the wings of a white dove. But she would not be one of those tame creatures. She was the Raven of Nevarell, the daughter of a bandit king. A raven was a scavenger, a harbinger of calamity, and not much of a singer. It fit Zillah perfectly.

She kept under the eaves of the common house, making her way to the kitchen. As she slunk through the open doorway of the room with the big fireplace, she paused. A few bandits were asleep around the glowing coals. To Zillah’s dismay, one lone bandit was still awake, and that lone bandit was none other than Jax Stormkill. His head was bowed over a long, thin dagger—a poniard—that he sharpened steadily. It was much like the pin knives Zillah kept in her boots, though with a longer handle.

Perhaps she could slip past him, if she was silent enough. She drifted across the room, watching Jax out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t look up. She made it safely through the other door, but paused in the hallway to see if Jax would follow. A faint vibration in the ground alerted her to his footsteps. Oh, snakewillows.

Writer, illustrator, Parimi Alcan

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