I got up a pretty good head of steam today, which was nice. Looking back over previous projects, I seem to follow a similar pattern, picking up speed as the week goes on, then starting back at a somewhat slower pace the following week. Last week was all skewed since I lost all of Wednesday and part of Thursday and Friday to Georgia and Allison's stomach flus, which meant I was never able to get up to speed. With any luck, I'll be able to finish "Twilight" sometime tomorrow, longer and later than anticipated, but not disastrously so.

46,458 / 120,000 (38.7%)

Lots of stuff packed into today's writing. The first encounter with the Red King. The first glimpse (in person, at least) of the Tower of Glass. And the little bit of business where Artor names his new sword, Hardspace.

Today's sample comes from the early part of the day's writing. It is what it says...

They had walked for some time when the first caught sight of the rider, and first heard the white hounds coursing in his wake, their baying like wild geese in flight.

The rider approached at speed, coming out them out of the indistinct blue haze of the middle distance. He was astride some sort of beast, the size of a horse but with the look of a lizard, its scales red, with a long ropy tail and fierce talons. Tendrils trailed like whiskers from the sides of its massive head, and in its fierce mouth were four large teeth, two above and two below, its eyes burning as if lit by flames from within.

“The Huntsman!” Galaad shouted, seeing the thin red blade the rider held aloft.

But as the rider thundered nearer, Galaad saw that he’d been wrong. This was not the same strange figure they’d faced in Llongborth, though it bore the same red sword and was followed by the spectral dogs of wrath. This rider was larger than the Huntsman had been, and while the Huntsman had been hairless the rider’s face was covered by a full red beard, his long red hair streaming behind him as he rode. And while the Huntsman’s face had been frozen and immobile, the rider’s face was clearly expressive, mouth open in a defiant snarl. Only the skin of his cheeks and forehead could be seen, and this little corpse-white, while the rest of his body was entirely encased in some sort of close-fitting red armor, than shone dully like metal but bent freely without joint or hinge.

Whoever the rider was, though, it was clear he meant harm to the seven.

As the rider drew nearer, Galaad remembered the White Lady’s warning—beware the Red King.