Chapter 1

     Walking in the fog of dawn is like stepping through the portal of dreams to find they're truly real. Everything muted, glowing ethereally. It makes me feel as if I am the queen of a land I only can travel to.
     In the fog, the dawn belongs to God and I alone.
     It is a feeling I treasure.
     I set my papers down on the flat rock I often visited on mornings like these, pulling my bottle of ink and a quill from the bag under my cloak. Perching on the rock, I uncorked the bottle, quill poised above the half-finished map of the southern Lowlands. I'd drawn the squiggles of a river the day before, but the banks needed adjustment.
     I worked on the map until warmth from the sun kissed my cheek. Looking up; I saw it had risen above the eastern wall of trees and was beginning to burn the tips of the mist. Time was running out, but I couldn't resist drinking in the beauty for at least a few minutes. The sky, blue like laughing eyes, with the golden haze of sun-drenched fog blurring everything. The pale green of new spring leaves, promising a new start for life.
     Maybe even for me.
     "Lord, Your splendor is beyond compare," I whispered, gently placing my supplies back into my bag. "The imagination, the ability to bring Your fancies into being. It's unfathomable. Such a gift."
     I spun around, reveling in the safety of the fogs. For a few hours, I could feel safe.
     But the sun, as much as I loved it, was also my enemy. Already I could see far into the distance.
     I had to leave.
     I turned toward the treeline. If I hurried, I maybe had another hour of protection before returning home. The canopy of tangled branches and the enormous leaves of the Linha trees trapped the mist.
     The ground rose as I hiked through the knee-high grass, and I cast a wary glance around, hoping, for both my sake and theirs, nobody was out there. My eyes caught only an ocean of grass, with the Lowland forest beyond.
     My breath caught.
     On the edge of the fogs, a figure was walking.
     Not tall enough to be Thatcher, too slim to be Foster. Faron never comes out this early . . .
     A stranger.
     Dangerous as this person seeing me, it would be worse for them if the fogs found them. I had to make sure they were alright.
     I pulled my hood over my dark braid and wrapped my cloak tighter around me, angling toward the tall grasses. From there, I could easily watch the person without them noticing me.
     It was in my favour that I knew these Lowlands as well as I knew myself.
    As I drew nearer, I moved in a crouch to keep hidden. I could see clearer now, but the grasses prevented me from seeing anything more than the figure's head. It was a lad, my age or a year older, with dark hair mussed by the wind rustling the grass, a decidedly straight nose, and an expression that caught my attention. Something between pain and morose, comfort and agony.
     I stopped, a tightness entangling my heart. I had seen many people in the Lowlands. Proud soldiers scouting the area, children wandering and weeping, but never this. Never something so familiar.
     The mists were dissipating; the lad would be safe today. I didn't have to stay.
     But his face gripped me. What lies within his heart?
     This was dangerous. The longer I stayed, the greater the chance I'd be spotted. I needed to leave.
     I turned, then looked back one more time. He'd moved now, and I could see him from the waist up. My heartbeat tripled at the sight of the insignia embroidered onto the lapels of his jacket. This was no ordinary stranger.
     This was one of the king's men.
     Instinctively, I ducked down, running through the grasses bent double, silent as owl wings. My mind was on fire.
     A Kingsman? What in the kingdom is a Kingsman doing in the Lowlands? Do they know . . .
     I had to tell Foster and Faron.
     I dared rise, eyes darting to where I'd seen the Kingsman. He'd turned, walking away from me, and my exhale rattled the dry winter reeds.
     But, time was precious. I needed to warn the others and couldn't waste another moment.
     I bounded through the tails of the fog like a doe fleeing from her hunters.

What tips do you have for staying focused while writing? Are you doing NaNoWriMo? Let me know down in the comments below.

May you live for Christ and give Him praise!

~Claira