Here’s a sneak peek of the story I’m writing for the September Patreon Fiction.

By now she knew that there were, in fact, four Ruon in the village. She, her mother, an elderly woman who was the best midwife for miles around, and the thatcher. They all knew of each other, but no one ever dared to say anything. Of them, only her mother had had any proper training, so they did not need to feign ignorance. But they did fear the Nithin more than anyone else. To be found by the Nithin was to be killed by them. You would not be buried, but would be dumped somewhere away from your people – perhaps even in the woods – and left for the elements and animals to do the rest. There would be no tree for you, your soul would never pass the Veil to where your family was waiting. You would simply stop existing. It would be as if you never existed in the first place. Ruon other than the Nithin, after all, should not exist. All in Agraver knew as much. Nea shivered.

Outside their house her mother built a small fire in the stone-lined pit made especially for the grave weeds and slowly fed the weeds to the flames while Nea sang the songs of dying and of the Veil. White smoke swirled into the air and burned her eyes. She wished to the Keepers of the Veil that they would not let her be found out by the Nithin and that she would be spared. She wiped at her eyes and stopped singing, acting as if the smoke was the cause of the tears in her eyes.

“We are safe,” her mother assured her …

At the moment the story is about 2000 words, but I think the first portion of the story will end up being around 4 000 – 5 000 words. I think I have a novella on my hands…

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