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I was just reading about terrestrial crocodiles which used to live in the Bahamas, until the advent of humans. This isn't that unusual. On some of the Pacific islands, remains from species of birds and reptiles have been found in ancient ovens. Apparently, on many islands, besides the plants and animals the people brought with them, the newcomers took advantage of game already abundant on the island. In the West Indies, human bones were found in a sinkhole among bones of the crocodiles, lizards, snakes, birds, and bats. Other things:
The Hollowing has a cover, and will join Gray Beginnings in Cerridwen Press's 2008 lineup. In Flames, the sequel to In Trysts, is now looking at a January 1st release date, so we're in countdown mode. I received a big box of ARCs for ErRatic (Feb release), which is absolutely thrilling for me! Sending them out to the local newspapers this week.
Oh, and Red Rose Publishing has signed GlassWorks! I'll leave you with an excerpt, this one from Gilded Folly, from Cerridwen Press. They were all overlain with the prints of a predator. Judging from the depth and clarity, Glys guessed the marks were nearly as recent as her own.
And she’d studied too many casts of ancient beasts to err on the identity of this one.
These were the deep prints of a Snotzil. The pattern was easy to detect: not only were Snotzil seven-toed, but their tracks were interrupted frequently by the impression of a flared rostrum, sniffing eagerly at the ground. Like the Derytzvoz, the Snotzil relied largely on its smell-brain to track its prey.
Gooseflesh rose again on Glys’ arms, defying the heat. Apparently, at least one Snotzil was alive and well, somewhere on this plateau. She tilted her head to listen, but all she could hear was a repetitious crackle. She sat there, as cast in stone as the statues at her side. There was a theory that the Snotzil’s nasty incisors clacked and rattled as it hunted. The sound chased the prey, cornering it and rendering it more tasty. The Snotzil enjoyed the proteins stimulated by adrenaline surges. Terrified prey made the tastiest meals. Glys hastily crept backwards, out of the cave, reluctant to stop until her feet hung over the edge. She huddled there, one leg over the drop, and tried to control her breathing enough to listen. I need time to think this through. If a Snotzil was the guardian for the Gilded Folly, she had big trouble. Worse than having an assassin at your back? Clatter…crack&hell ip;clatter. Most definitely...yes. Unconsciously, Glys wiped dried blood from her face. Her nose had stopped leaking, but the traces were there. Bloodlust…slaughte r. Yaz help her! The Snotzil was tracking something. It was too much to hope it had nothing to do with her. From Gilded Folly Cheers, ND | Melody
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