Okay, this is just an idea that I hope will get me started writing. I’m not making any promises. The idea may fizzle and just not go anywhere. The snippet needs a lot of polishing. But here’s what I have so far. Let me know if you think I’m on the right track!
(From Victor’s Prologue)
I was sixteen when I took over the leadership of my pack. My cousins and I had just lost our fathers and before we even had a chance to grieve, I found myself at the center of a crisis.
I was responsible for the pack’s well being. It was my job to make sure we had food, shelter, clothing and fuel for the hearth. It was my responsibility to decide who should tend our animals, who should hunt, who should work our small plot of land down by the river, and who should collect firewood. But the main source of our livelihood came from our employment as stoneworkers, our family having built most of the bridges around York.
Up until then, my father had handled all of our building agreements with the city. But on the news of his sudden death, the mayor and his councilmen had decided to give our work to another family of builders. It took some quick maneuvering on my part to contact the councilmen and convince them to leave the contract with us. We had a reputation for fine work but there was more than reputation involved. In those days, as in modern times, politics were involved. There were egos to be stroked and favors to be pledged. I went door to door with small gifts and large promises.
In several cases, the councilmen were eager to find a promising match for their daughters, and I found myself in the position of charming or courting several young lasses at the same time…as well as juggling a few bold wives who took me aside to let me know that their husbands wouldn’t make a deal without their blessing.
So I did what I had to do for the sake of the pack. I charmed, I flirted and narrowly avoided getting married at least three times. I can tell you that it wasn’t all work. But I can also tell you there was a lot of acting involved. And by the time I was nineteen I’d earned the reputation as York’s most notorious lover. Which is ironic…because even though I knew a lot about women, I knew nothing at all about love.