“Stop!”The voice, rising from angry to panicked within a syllable, shook Vine. Her knees, shaky before, trembled so intensely the glow from the brand she carried leaped along the smooth, stone walls.
Summer and Glynis, kind, writery-type friends, have agreed to help me on my quest. I'm searching for the right words to craft into a post-hyborian romantic fantasy. Anyone for a new genre?
Depending on where I start, I could be writing fantasy with a romantic element or an elemental romance with fantasy veined throughout. Which way do you think I ought to go?
The story keeps turning YA - stop! Stop! This isn't what I planned...
The aching cold inside her chest did not diminish, but the chill pervading her skin receded. The patting continued on her shoulder, gentle and slow, hesitant.
“I’m sorry, Vine. Not sorry you’re alive, though. I’m sorry I did not speak up when Fyren p-layed that ... joke.” She continued to inspect Vine’s face and clothes, “You appear very healthy for a tyro who went to stroke the krokatris. I know you went. I saw you in the tunnel. Heard them shriek, when I ran to aid you.”
“You didn't run very fast.”