Sent out 16 queries via email this week. I've already recieved 6 rejections (hey, at least they're fast). I shall spend the next couple days rewriting my query letter, cuz I'm pretty sure it sucks.

This snippet picks up directly from the last snippet—with Ferin tormenting Lars.

Book 1 Chapter 5 “Damsel in Distress”

By the end of the day Lars was having second thoughts about Ferin. He decided that this bold and noble Virii was more trouble than he was worth. He was loud and rude, talking constantly. He told stories of his creative vandalism with pride. The many annoying jokes and insults he divulged were more-or-less about Lars. Lars continually told himself that strangling Ferin would not solve anything except for peace and quiet, if he did not mind having a guilty conscience. He also had to remind himself, while fiercely grinding his teeth, that Ferin was in need, despite how frustrating he was.
It had been years since Lars spent time in the company of a jesting soul. Toredor had been about as funny as a plague, so it was hard for Lars to know what to do about this smiling, animated jokester. He quickly learned not to fall for any tricks more than once. Only twice was Ferin able to say, out of the blue, “Lars, what’s that on your tunic?” with his finger pointed at Lars’ chest. At first, gullible, Lars would look down as Ferin brought his finger up to flick Lars’ nose.
As dusk neared, Ferin caught Lars rubbing sorely at his jaw.
“Is something the matter, Lars?” Ferin asked.
“It aches,” he grunted, not mentioning it was from grinding his teeth. “Nothing bad.”
Ferin’s mischievous light sparked (as it had many times) in his eyes. “Oh really? I know a cure for that.”
Lars stopped in his tracks. “You do?”
“Certainly,” Ferin grinned. “It’s something I learned here in the Azure. It doesn’t exactly cure you, but it helps. Here.” He plucked a couple of wild oats from the grass.
“What do I do?” Lars asked, warily watching Ferin’s every move.
“Just clamp these between your teeth,” Ferin instructed as he placed the stalks between Lars’ teeth. Lars looked very silly with wild oats gritted between his jaws, the stalks spread out like cat whiskers with the oats dangling off the ends.
“Sho now wut do I do?” Lars asked through his clenched teeth, not certain whether or not he should trust Ferin....
“You don’t do anything. Allow me.” Ferin acted fast as he grabbed the bottoms of the stalks and pulled.
Lars ended up with a mouthful of prickly wild oats as his teeth peeled them off the ends of the stalks that slid through. He spat, wiping his lips and cursing at Ferin. Ferin doubled over with laughter.
“That’s it, you!” Lars bellowed, spitting. “I’ve had enough of this!” He stuffed his sleeve into his mouth, trying to wipe out all the little bits of oats. “We’re going to have a serious discussion about these pranks of yours.”
“What pranks?” Ferin choked, laughing as he lay in the grass. “Haven’t you forgotten about the pain in your jaw? It worked!”
He laughed even harder.
Lars was not amused.
“You listen to me!” he bellowed. “I am not going to put up with your ridiculous behavior anymore. Either you behave yourself or I’ll leave you here, even if I have to slash you to pieces to get you to stay!”
“What? It isn’t my fault you’re so gullible.” Ferin sat up, his face red and streaked with tears, trying to control his laughter. “I’m amazed that you fell for such an obvious trick.”
“Why you...” Lars unsheathed his sword, but was unable to finish.
Unexpected, demanding them to cease their argument, both the mirthful Virii and the hysterical Human heard a distant cry from the west. The shrill, chilling shriek of a woman’s voice echoed into their ears, arresting their full attention. Exchanging serious glances, they both turned to the west. Lars declared, “A damsel in distress!”
“Well, Prince Charming, you must rescue her!” Ferin sniggered.
Lars shot him an angry glance.


Yes, when I was little, my "friends" played the stupid "grass-in-the-mouth" trick on me. They were not my friends after that.

More later!


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