Hey, welcome to another Weekend Writing Warriors blog hop!
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The last we left Jonnie the Gypsy King, he had rescued a stray mechanical and a stranger who had fallen ill on the road. After setting up camp in the woods, it isn’t long before trouble comes to find him in the guise of Old Tink…
For the beginnings of this story, the link is here: https://velvetpanic2.wordpress.com/burning-sky/
The men around her fell silent as they worked on rolling cigarettes and helping themselves to stew; quietly, unobtrusive their catch word. Rosida would not meet my eye, subtle as a cat as he sat by the fire, sinuous and free. I felt a hitch in my throat at the sight of him. Old Tink cleared hers to engage my attention again. I would not blush–long past blushing—and her mood made me curious.
There it was again, that curiosity that might have brought me borrowed trouble today with a sleeping stranger in my Penelope and a stray mechanical in the boot.
Now this. She held the deck out again, the firelight and shadow licking at her face. We studied one another a moment longer, and she broke the contact between us when she bent to take up her tea in the clay mug.
“There’s no whisky,” I murmured in apology.