A bit of chapter one

It was a good day to rake leaves, mow the still-green grass that was under those leaves, then to blow the residue off the driveway and sidewalk with Ryan's might Leaf Blower! (I use it so much now that I really should just buy it from him,)

After all that yard work, I hammered on the first chapter of the sequel to Betrovia. Here's a tidbit from the first draft of that chapter:

     After polishing off the last piece of ham, Patrik trudged back into the kitchen. Sitting by the back door that opened out into the yard between the house and the barn, he noticed a string mop and a bucket. Still shoe-less and with his stomach barely satisfied, he began to mop up the water left by the rain. As he cleaned up the mess, he thought about how to motivate Galena to come back downstairs and to help him finish packing the wagon for the trip to the capital city. “Wait!” he exclaimed to himself as he blotted up the last puddle of rainwater. “Where are the scrolls? The barn? Aren't they still in the barn?” He quickly opened the back door and, while still barefoot, scurried the thirty-or-so feet to the dilapidated structure that was used primarily as a shelter for his two horses and as a makeshift workshop. He pulled open the large and heavy oak door and it creaked until he stopped. Once inside, he smiled and first patted the gray mare on the head and then scratched the muzzle of the younger, reddish-brown quarter horse. “Good morning, you two. Hope you're ready for a long journey today.” Their response was to whinny which he translated as their request for fresh grain and water.

     “Yes, yes, I've not forgotten you,” he said, grabbing a pine bucket that was on the workbench under one of the two windows. He scooped up a few pounds of a mixture of cracked corn and oats and meticulously poured it into their feeder. “In a few minutes, I'll refresh your water. There's something else I need to take care of first.” Before he could even finish the sentence, both horses ceased to look at him and had begun crunching up their breakfast. Patrik set the bucket back on the bench and crouched down on the right side of it. From there he then opened up a trapdoor that was barely covered by some dusty straw. “Thank You, Othleis, for reminding me about grabbing these,” he said as he lifted a dark leathery pouch out of the shallow hole that had been dug in the hard clay of the barn floor. He tucked the pouch under his left arm and began to leave the barn when he remembered that he promised to do one more thing for the horses. With his right hand, he latched onto the feed bucket one more time. “I'll be right back with some fresh water. Need to take these into the house first.”  

Patrik and his passion for the scrolls: a good start for the sequel.