A tiny snippet from my novel. This is describing a painting.

The tips of the warrior’s hair were on fire. Her hands had been left open and out, welcoming in her prey. The artist had angled her left foot in, so the knife locked in the girl’s combat boot could be easily spotted. She wore a long white dress, in mockery of a bride. The warrior’s eyes were closed. She had a smile of pleasure to compliment the blood stained on her hands.

  The woman floated, rising above the  rose thorns painted on the ground below. She lifted her chin away from safety, and gazed on into the darkest patches of the powerful storm clouds. Her silk dress floated up with her, as did her untamable hair. She was too strong for even gravity to contain.


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