Sneak Peek for Everyone: The Start of the MG/YA Novel

First scene of chapter one! I am writing this one slowly, stopping to think about things like "should I be doing spot illustrations" and "what should I name this particular thing". I feel the sort of leisurely confidence you feel when you know when you sit down to work on something it's really gonna go, so it's okay to linger in the preparation stages.

Anyway, enjoy! :)

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When Marda woke, cozy under a quilt and two afghans, her first thought was that she was so deliciously warm she never wanted to get up. Her second was that she needed to feed the pearly crows before they woke up her father with their kawing. And finally she remembered it was her birthday, and sprang out of bed. She pulled on socks and grabbed the topmost afghan and ran down the stairs, and the morning when she stepped out the door was beautiful: softly dark, but with light running across the horizon through the trees. And cold! But the sun would warm everything up and then she’d have her favorite kind of weather, when the air was just a little warm but the breeze was cool and the air smelled like the first flowers of spring.

 With her basket in the crook of her arm, she hurried out into the orchard. Just as she expected, there was a crow in the boughs of the Merry Aunt, one of the friendliest trees. When it spotted her it gave one of those low, odd warbles that crows use for family and that brought four more birds swooping to perch in a circle high above her.

“Hi, crows!” Marda brought out the week-old bread and broke it up with her hands. Scattering it, she said, “I hope you are having a fine morning. Did you know? It’s my birthday! I am fourteen today!”

They croaked in answer, and she pretended they were congratulating her. Pearly crows, of course, were good luck, so just having them stop by counted as a present, by Marda’s way of thinking… even if they came every day in winter and spring. To be polite, she said, “Thank you,” as if they had wished her well, and grinned at herself. “I know, I’m so silly. You can’t talk and you’re waiting for me to leave so you can eat! Enjoy your feast!”

She rearranged the afghan over her shoulders and darted to the henhouse. Her socks were soaked already, but she only had one more errand and then she could go inside and take them off. The hens were still somnolent, all fluffed over their nests, but she liberated eleven eggs from the boxes without disgruntling them too much. Those went in the basket. She thanked the hens, too, but in a whisper, so as not to disturb them further.

The house was no longer silent when she entered; her mother was in the kitchen brewing small coffee on the stove, its earthy fragrance and cheerful bubble as familiar as sunrise. Marda put her basket down in time for her hug, and it was a good one. Her mother was plush and soft and hugging her was better than pillows when you were tired.

“Good morning, Daughter,” Mama said, smiling. “And happy birthday! Look at you, you’ll be taller than me soon.”

Mama had been saying this since Marda was six. It had been eight years and ‘soon’ hadn’t arrived yet, but Marda could see it from here: the top of her head no longer fit under Mama’s chin. “Good morning, Mama! I fed the crows. And here, the hens gave us eggs.”

“Look at that. Enough for breakfast and your cake besides.” Mama kissed her brow. “Your father and your sister and brother are still asleep, and likely to stay that way for a while. Sit and have your breakfast.”

“Can I have coffee?” she asked, hopeful.

“Your own cup today. You’re old enough.”

So she did, and it was even better than the little sips her parents had let her have since she was old enough to want what they were drinking. Mama made lost bread from yesterday’s loaf, dipping it in egg and cream and frying it golden before topping it with preserves from their own orchard: golden songquinces, sweet and tart.

“All full up?” Mama said, after the third slice.

The coffee had run out, and she didn’t want to ask for more: coffee had to be bought, so it was a luxury. “I think so. There might be a corner somewhere.”

Mama laughed and handed her a big spoon of preserves. “Isn’t there always. Even when you’re my age, there are still corners... especially when there are sweets left over.”

Between licks, Marda said, “Should I wake everyone up?” Because that was usually her chore: to watch her brother and help her sister while Mama went out to sing to the praisetrees.

“Not today. I’d like you to ride into town.” Mama went to the jar by the cupboard and brought out a few coins. “I have a list for you of things to buy at the store—for your cake! Along with some other things I need. And there’s money there for you to buy fabric and ribbons for a new dress.”

“A new dress!”

Mama laughed. “I did say you were getting taller, didn’t I? Pick your favorite color, dearling. Susen will embroider it for you if you ask nicely, I’m sure.”

At nine, Susen was already better than Marda at sewing, and she could make the most beautiful birds and flowers with colored floss. A new dress! An embroidered one! With ribbon! Most of her dresses had been cut down from Mama’s.

Her face was probably giving away her delight, for her mother leaned over and kissed the top of her head, laughing. “A good birthday present?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “Thank you! And cake too!”

“Whatever flavor you want. Think about it on the way.”