National Park Girls: Episode 3 - January Update

Hey everyone, Syon here!

Last month we brought you some exciting updates regarding Highway Blossoms: Next Exit, and while we’re super stoked to talk more about HB, we think it’s about time to talk about National Park Girls: Episode 3 - Daughter of Zion!

Both writing and art are underway for Episode 3, I’m happy to say. Though I’ll admit, having to write for Highway Blossoms did delay the writing some. Fortunately, I’m back on that and should have the first draft done by the end of this month, with edits occurring in February. From there, I’ll be continuing to write the drafts for Episodes 4 and 5, with NPG being my top priority. 

Art is chugging along as always. Satchely is back on the case and working on CGs. As a little taste of what to expect, here’s a sketch of the first CG in Episode 3. 

Which leads me to the next goody we’ll be showing off today -- the opening sequence for Episode 3! Keep in mind, this hasn’t been edited yet, and dialogue and narration are subject to change, but this -- coupled with the CG -- should give you a good idea of where NPG’s story is going. 

And with that, I’ll take my leave! I hope you enjoy this sneak peek. We’ll be back at you with more updates next month. Later!

XXX

“Remember. Try to remember.”

“Remember what she taught you.”

“Her stories.” 

“Who she was.” 

“Who she still is!” 

Zion “Yosemite! Wherever are you hiding?”

“That voice.”

Zion “Oh dear me! If she doesn’t appear soon I won’t be able to tell her a story. Whatever shall I do?”

“It still sounds so warm. As angelic as I remember.” 

“Remember.”

“At least I can still do that much. Not all of us are so lucky.” 

Yosemite “Wait I’m right here! I wanna hear the story!” 

“Did I seriously fall for that? Such a simple trick.”

“Yet I can’t help but wish to return to the days where I would fall for it.” 

Zion “Oh, I’m not so sure now. It’s getting rather late. Perhaps we should return to the cabin?” 

Yosemite “Pre-Pre-Prepossinous!” 

Zion “It’s ‘preposterous,’ dear.”

Yosemite “Preposterous!” 

“There was a quick rustle. My head popped out from the bush? Or was it from behind a tree? Definitely some type of flora.” 

Yosemite “Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease, Zion! I wanna hear the story about the %^#&*#&* again! Tell me the %^#&*#&* story!” 

“What story was it?”

“I’m not sure if I can recall it. It was something simple, right? A fable, I’m positive!”

“The descriptor is on the tip of my tongue. I know it is.” 

“So why does the memory feel fuzzy when I think of it? Why does the word crackle out like radio static?”

Zion “Goodness. I suppose I have no choice then!” 

Yosemite “No, you certainly do not!”

“Zion laughed. Her laugh was always so beautiful. Like a song. It would always draw the birds to her. They would perch themselves on her shoulders. Her wings. Her antlers — back when she had them.” 

Zion “Very well. Come sit down, little one. You can’t listen to a story from all the way over there, now can you?”

“I crawled out from— whatever plant it was I was hiding behind.”

“Sitting on a long-toppled over tree, Zion patted her lap. Her gown fluttered all the way down her long body and drifted with the wind.” 

“I looked up to smile at her. I remember that much.”

“And—”

“And—”

“And what?”

“I looked up to smile at her and… there was no face.” 

“That can’t be right.” 

“But no matter how hard I try to remember, her face is a blur.” 

“Her voice was beautiful. Her build was tall. So what did she look like?” 

“I skipped over to where she was sitting, and…” 

“The more I think about it, the blurrier it gets.” 

“Details begin to blend.” 

“The patches of dirt and grass I was romping across mix together. They’re a spiraling green and brown vortex now.”

“Was it even a log she was sitting on? Could it have been a rock?”

“By the time I’m sitting on her lap, it doesn’t matter.” 

“By the time I was sitting on her lap, she was my anchor.” 

Zion “Straighten your posture.” 

Yosemite “Aww, but Zion, must I really?”

Zion “Only if you respect yourself.” 

“Whining, I pulled back my slumped shoulders, then rolled my eyes at her.” 

:Except now I don’t have a face either.” 

Yosemite “Now?”

“Zion nodded, but now it looks like water colors sweating down a canvas.” 

Zion “Once upon a time, there was a %^#&*#&* named %^#&*#&*. He was quite the rambunctious %^#&*#&*...”

“More vanishing words now? Why aren’t they coming to me?” 

“Where did they go?”

“Everything is congealing together now.” 

Zion “One fine afternoon, %^#&*#&* decided to &&^%^$$%#E$%#E^*(*(&$$#^&*(—”

“Everything about this… I can only remember it as if I saw it all through tears.” 

“The world as I knew it is only a kaleidyscope now. A mesh of people. Of colors. Of sounds.” 

“Not this one. Please. Any memory but this.” 

“It’s too precious.” 

“Let me hear it again.” 

“Let me hear the story.” 

“Let me hear your voice.” 

“Please.”