Tag: teome

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February 16th excerpt:

“I think I can make that work,” Dean said, spreading out his food in front of him. He tore open a granola bar and the trail mix; the last thing he’d need was Sam or Jacob bitching at him for not picking their favorite, and carefully picked out something of everything. He sent a quick glance Logan’s way. With the other hunter preoccupied, Dean took advantage of a free moment to take his handful of food and drop it swiftly into his chest pocket.

The pocket struggled in surprise, then came two swift elbows in unison to his chest when Sam and Jacob figured out what he’d done.

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February 15th excerpt:

Dean absently hummed the music from Smoke on the Water as he slipped behind the trees, going deeper in. Only a few stray rays of sunlight made it this deep into the trees, the rest of the area lit by a deeper green from the leaves blocking the light. Once he was sure Logan wasn’t following, Dean relaxed with a sigh. “That wasn’t in the plan,” he muttered to himself, and to his tiny brothers, who could finally come out.

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February 14th excerpt:

Bowman had to right himself at the bottom of the jar. Once it was upright again, he’d rolled backwards and landed on one of his own wings, arms flailing to find something to brace against.

“Hey! Watch it…” his voice died from an indignant shout almost immediately once he pushed himself up. With the jar on the ground, his first view was of a pair of enormous boots crushing a few stray leaves beneath their weight. Following the human’s height upwards, his eyes widened. Dean was huge, especially seen from the ground.

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February 13th excerpt:

Logan tromped to the center of the clearing so he could get a good view of the sky. “I’ll get a fire going,” he determined, glancing back to Dean, standing there with a duffel bag full of weapons and a sprite in a jar, casual as could be. What the hell?

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February 12th excerpt:

I am in so much trouble.

The despairing thought rang through the many panicked fragments in Bowman’s mind. On either side and overhead, his view was blocked by the pattern of the shirt that Dean wore. With the jar tucked under an arm, Bowman didn’t have a chance to really see where they were taking him. Fate had given him an extra dose of the unfair by making sure the giants’ arms were thicker around than he was tall.

Thanks to the tilt, the bottom of the jar was behind him and the curved wall beneath. Bowman could see the forest floor, and the effect that Dean’s boots had on it. Those boots had to be the size of a small house.

With his hands braced on the glass, Bowman felt like the world was so close, just beyond his reach. He was captured and he didn’t know what would happen to him. He couldn’t even warn the village of the threat wandering the woods.

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February 10th excerpt:

He tried to writhe free, panic creeping through his veins. That glass container loomed in his vision like a gaping mouth, and his resolve almost faltered. He couldn’t even attempt to bite Dean again to get away. There was nothing to do but watch the thing get closer to him, an inevitable shift in Dean’s grip as he prepared to trap Bowman with ease.

Those knives glinted and the glass glittered and Bowman’s adrenaline had nowhere to go.

“S-stop it! I told you I didn’t–” he insisted, before the grip loosened around him and the words seized in his chest.

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February 8th excerpt:

Bowman scoffed and squirmed again. He didn’t have time for something like this. Not when Logan looked completely skeptical of the conversation, too. Bowman was the only one on his own side, and he had to focus on getting away. He couldn’t give them time to decide they wanted to hurt him.

He almost spat out another scathing remark, but in his struggles he spotted movement on Dean’s chest. He blinked, but could have sworn he saw a couple pairs of eyes, normal sized ones, peering out of a pocket at him. The notion threw him off and he froze.

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February 7th excerpt:

“Vicious little thing,” the other giant pointed out with a scoff. Bowman opened his eyes to glance at him and quivered again. He couldn’t decide if that giant’s accusing glare or his captor’s complete fascination was more unsettling.

“L-let go, you wingless pile of snakeskin!” he managed to force out, putting his considerable reserves of defiance into his voice.