Another nano update.
I've now crossed the half way point - word count now stands at 25,839 - so I've hit the target for the day and it's not even half eight in the morning yet.
That said I really still need to write another 1 to 2k today as I won't get much chance after tonight (I might be able to get half an hour in before I need to get the train tomorrow morning, but I'm not counting on it) for writing until Sunday night. So I'd like to be at least 2k ahead of where I need to be today, so that I've not go so much to make up later - I really dislike having to play catch up.
The blisteringly hot weather breaks on the second day out of Kibesha, what they had hoped would be a sudden cooling shower increased in intensity until the world became one soaking grey mass, the sky above them riven by lightening, the sound of thunder rolling like cannon in hills around them.
The steady tramp of the mens feet and iron shod wheels of the ox carts soon turned what had been the powder dry dusty surface of the road to a mire of thick yellowish mud, that clung to their boot in clumps, weighing down each step.
Mid afternoon arrived with no cessation to the rain, although the storm has rolled on towards the mountain, the thunder just a distant dull grumble, when Creel walked over to him. "Sarpedon, you know the lay of the land round him better than I," he said wiping the rain from his eyes. "We're making piss poor time and the men will too exhausted to put up a fight if we were to be attacked if we push then much further. So I want to know if there's a likely spot up ahead to pitch camp, or if we should make best of it and pitch up here."
The rain was falling so hard that Sarpedon had to stop and look around, peering into the sodden grey gloom, to try and work out just where they were in relation to Timballie.
The land was flat to the southern side of the road, while almost immediately to the north the land started to rise, gradual at first then steeper until they became towering inland cliffs, less than half a mile from the road. They would offer some protection from the rain, there was of course the issue to placing themselves where they might be cornered by the enemy, were they still in the area. It was all a trade off though, as it also limited the number of directions that they could be attacked from.
"The base of the cliffs is our best option, sir," Sarpedon said, "The road starts to climb soon, and there's a narrow cutting about five miles on that could be used as an ambush point. I'd rather not chance it as night draws in with exhausted men."
That said I really still need to write another 1 to 2k today as I won't get much chance after tonight (I might be able to get half an hour in before I need to get the train tomorrow morning, but I'm not counting on it) for writing until Sunday night. So I'd like to be at least 2k ahead of where I need to be today, so that I've not go so much to make up later - I really dislike having to play catch up.
The blisteringly hot weather breaks on the second day out of Kibesha, what they had hoped would be a sudden cooling shower increased in intensity until the world became one soaking grey mass, the sky above them riven by lightening, the sound of thunder rolling like cannon in hills around them.
The steady tramp of the mens feet and iron shod wheels of the ox carts soon turned what had been the powder dry dusty surface of the road to a mire of thick yellowish mud, that clung to their boot in clumps, weighing down each step.
Mid afternoon arrived with no cessation to the rain, although the storm has rolled on towards the mountain, the thunder just a distant dull grumble, when Creel walked over to him. "Sarpedon, you know the lay of the land round him better than I," he said wiping the rain from his eyes. "We're making piss poor time and the men will too exhausted to put up a fight if we were to be attacked if we push then much further. So I want to know if there's a likely spot up ahead to pitch camp, or if we should make best of it and pitch up here."
The rain was falling so hard that Sarpedon had to stop and look around, peering into the sodden grey gloom, to try and work out just where they were in relation to Timballie.
The land was flat to the southern side of the road, while almost immediately to the north the land started to rise, gradual at first then steeper until they became towering inland cliffs, less than half a mile from the road. They would offer some protection from the rain, there was of course the issue to placing themselves where they might be cornered by the enemy, were they still in the area. It was all a trade off though, as it also limited the number of directions that they could be attacked from.
"The base of the cliffs is our best option, sir," Sarpedon said, "The road starts to climb soon, and there's a narrow cutting about five miles on that could be used as an ambush point. I'd rather not chance it as night draws in with exhausted men."