(I’m written out. I have no idea what to say in a post. So I’m going to inflict 100 words, more or less, from my Camp Nanowrimo effort on you, ready or not.
Situation: My main character Wilm and his lifelong friend have just made it back to their home town after being shipwrecked and spending weeks in the wilds. Wilm is tired, hungry, and filthy as he trudges into his family home and finds his grandmother playing with magic, as she likes to do.)
A green bat with blue wings fluttered out of the smoke and hovered in front of my face. It was one of Grandmother’s better color combinations. “Well, you sound like Wilm,” the bat said. “But you don’t look much like him.”
“You wouldn’t either if you’d been lost in the woods for weeks, Grandmother,” I said.
“Is that your story? You got lost? And you barely out of the harbor, from what I heard?”
“Grandmother, is there hot water?”
“Your father, now, he wouldn’t get lost in the harbor in a little rowboat.”
“My father’s dead.”
“Well? I’d like to see him getting himself lost.” The bat peered down its nose cross eyed. “Are you sure you’re Wilm?”