What the military and spy folks call a situation report
I haven’t been around much lately. We moved Dash, Ragnar, and Azog into my office, where I never see them unless I search out their tiny hideouts, from which they hiss at me. Agent Carter (formerly something else, but I’ve been calling her Agent Carter, and she likes it so much she hardly ever hisses or whacks me) is still in the other bathroom while she finishes her course of eye medicine. She will even let me cuddle her and pet her afterward, while I tell her of all her great deeds as a spy and how Hitler sleeps with a gun under his pillow because of his terror of Agent Carter.
And I’m working on a speech for this coming weeked, an afterword for Simon & Schuster’s re-issue of the Immortals quartet (have you seen the new Alanna covers–they’re in the stores now. Very eye-catch-y!), and a short Alanna story, one of two due next month. Oh, yes, and that book, about that guy.
It would be swell except my eyes decided they want a long nap, which means extra-fancy eyedrops and less computer time, my left hand wants me playing less on the computer (I trained my left hand as my mouse hand so I’d take some of the work off of my right hand), and my right hand is still pissed from the time I got furious over that reporter who decided he had the right to research if Wendy Davis’s 2 abortions really were necessary for medical reasons or if she just had them for fun, and I punched a broad wooden entry frame. Proper martial arts punch, first two knuckles of my fist, my body behind it. Apparently I “bruised” the knuckles with a “bruise” that may last several months, and I have to put yellow goo on my hand four times a day. Oh, and not type so much.
Bodies are really annoying, you know that?
So that’s my sitrep. I’m waiting on the report from Ferguson, like everyone else. I’m praying for peace, but is it me, or does it seem like the governor wants there to be a bloodbath?
The marketplace bustled with activity, as it always did, while the sun beamed down, hot and bright. Alanna and Abu had just stolen a melon from a fruit vendor for their breakfast–thankfully without getting caught by either the vendor or Razoul and his men–and were sitting on a roof enjoying their meal and watching the goings on in the streets below when an unfamiliar face caught Alanna’s eye. A very pretty face belonging to a girl who looked about her age. Maybe a little younger.
The girl stopped at a fruit stand and handed an apple to a little boy, and things started to get heated. Not able to hear exactly what was going on, but seeing that the girl was in trouble, Alanna scrambled down the wall, forgetting about her melon, and quickly intercepted the scimitar the vendor was about to slam down on the girl’s wrist.
“Thank you, kind sir. I’m so glad you’ve found her,” she said, then she pried the man’s hand from the other girl’s wrist and gathered her up in a hug. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”