Good Morning, Everyone. Thought maybe I’d do another Bold and Blatant Self Promotion post today, featuring A Boy Named Rabbit, the book which introduces the little boy who seems to have become a big favorite with most of my readers. Maybe some of you who haven’t yet met this young man will be intrigued by the small peek into his story, and will decide to check out for yourselves just what makes him so special. Hope you enjoy today’s excerpt!
Once You Let Rabbit Into Your Heart,
You’ll Never Forget Him!
BLURB
“Evil’s comin’, boy…comin’ fast. Look for the man with eyes like winter skies, and hair like a crow’s wing. He’s the one you gotta find.”
The remote mountain wilderness of North Carolina swallowed up the ten-year-old boy as he made his way down from the primitive camp where his grandparents had kept him hidden all his life. His dying grandmother, gifted with the Sight, set him on a quest to find the Good People, and though he is filled with fear and wary of civilization, Rabbit is determined to keep his promise to her. When he crosses paths with Sarah and MacKenzie Cole, neither their lives nor his, are ever the same again.
The extraordinary little boy called Rabbit has the power to light up the darkness, and the resourcefulness to save himself from the one person his grandparents had hoped would never find him. His dangerous and bittersweet journey will touch you in unexpected ways, and once you’ve let Rabbit into your heart, you’ll never forget him.
EXCERPT
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Deep in the North Carolina Mountains
The morning birdsong woke Rabbit just before daylight. He had cried himself to sleep on the tent floor, and when he sat up to check, his gran was lying still and pale, her shallow breath the faintest whisper. Not gone yet.
“Gran?” He kept his voice low, wanting to know she was still with him, but sorry to disturb her rest. When she didn’t move, he tried again, louder. “Gran? Are you okay? Please be okay…”
Her hand shot out and caught his in an iron grip, pulling him close. “Boy? Is that you?”
“Yes. I’m here, Gran.” Her voice was so faint, he had to strain to hear.
“Evil’s comin’, Boy…comin’ fast. Remember, find the man with…winter blue eyes. He’ll keep you safe… from…bad people. You have to…find him…” The last words slid out of her on a long, rattling sigh, and she went still as stone.
Rabbit had seen death many times, but never the death of a person. And never the death of someone he loved, one of only two faces he’d ever known. He was stricken speechless, too shocked even to cry. Instead, he sat beside the cot, holding her hand until it grew cool, then he roused himself and walked outside.
My gran is gone. She’s gone. And my grampa isn’t coming back, neither. I’m alone now. I gotta be strong. That’s what she said. I gotta be strong, and leave the mountain. I gotta find the good people. Grampa says there ain’t any, but maybe I should believe what Gran said. We can’t be the only ones who ain’t bad. I gotta find the rest. And I gotta hunt for the man with eyes like winter skies and hair like a crow’s wing.
He repeated those words to himself over and over as he gathered up his scant belongings and put them in a battered backpack his grampa had given him years ago. He had fishing line, a simple snare, and an old canteen he filled at the stream. His grampa made fire with a piece of flint and tinder, but his gran had a small metal tin with matches in it. He tucked the tin into his backpack, too, and strapped on his hunting knife.
For an hour or so, he was too busy preparing to leave to think about the enormity of what might lie ahead. He cooked the last of yesterday’s fish for breakfast, washed the small pan, and tied it on top of his backpack. Last, he tied his little bedroll on the bottom of the backpack, and he was done. There was nothing else he could think of to take. With his extra pair of jeans and a flannel shirt squeezed into his pack, he tied the sleeves of his heavy jacket around his waist, and decided he was as ready as he would ever be, to do something he didn’t want to do at all.
After tending to the fire, making sure every ember was doused and cold, he went back into the tent and said goodbye to his gran. “I know you shouldn’t oughta be left like this, but I don’t know what to do with you, Gran. You told me once before, a body goes empty when a person dies, and isn’t much important, but if you’re lookin’ down at me, I promise I’ll try to come back with help, so I don’t have to leave you here forever. You was always good to me, and I know you loved me. I loved you, too, Gran, and I’ll miss you every single day, and even though I don’t know how I can find one man outta a whole world full of them, I promise I’ll try. Thank you for all you done for me.” He tucked the old army blanket around her, and kissed her forehead, blinking back tears.
No time for tears now. I gotta get as far as I can today, before dark. Maybe I’ll cry then.
The little boy called Rabbit walked out of the tent where he’d been raised, picked a direction at random, and headed downhill to the west, hoping he’d find the Good People instead of the Bad, and wondering where he should look for the man with the winter eyes. The rugged wilderness of the North Carolina Mountains swallowed him up in minutes, as though he had never been there at all.
On his own for the first time in his life, Rabbit was only ten years old.
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Author Marcia Meara
Marcia Meara lives in central Florida, just north of Orlando, with her husband of over thirty years and four big cats.
When not writing or blogging, she spends her time gardening, and enjoying the surprising amount of wildlife that manages to make a home in her suburban yard. She enjoys nature. Really, really enjoys it. All of it! Well, almost all of it, anyway. From birds, to furry critters, to her very favorites, snakes. The exception would be spiders, which she truly loathes, convinced that anything with eight hairy legs is surely up to no good. She does not, however, kill spiders anymore, since she knows they have their place in the world. Besides, her husband now handles her Arachnid Catch and Release Program, and she’s good with that.
Spiders aside, the one thing Marcia would like to tell each of her readers is that it’s never too late to make your dreams come true. If, at the age of 69, she could write and publish a book (and thus fulfill 64 years of longing to do that very thing), you can make your own dreams a reality, too. Go for it! What have you got to lose?
Buy Marcia’s Books Here
Novels
Wake-Robin Ridge: Book 1
A Boy Named Rabbit: Wake-Robin Ridge Book 2
Harbinger: Wake-Robin Ridge Book 3
The Light: Wake-Robin Ridge Book 4
Swamp Ghosts: Riverbend Book 1
Finding Hunter: Riverbend Book 2
That Darkest Place: Riverbend Book 3
Riverbend Spinoff Novellas
The Emissary 1
The Emissary 2 – To Love Somebody
The Emissary 3 – Love Hurts
Poetry
Summer Magic: Poems of Life and Love
Reach Marcia on Social Media Here:
Blog: The Write Stuff
Facebook
Email: marciameara16@gmail.com
The Write Stuff 