Fie Eoin Fridays: Happy Yule!

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Happy Yule everyone!

It’s not quite Friday yet, but since the Seven Tribes honor Yule as the death of their Mother Goddess Aleda (which you can read here) and the longest night of the year, I thought I’d break my hiatus today and post a little bit of drunken revelry from Kindra’s Yule. Plus, it’s a Monk-heavy scene, and I’ve been loving me some Monk lately.

And as a quick update: I only have two more chapters to type up and edit! I’ve started my query! I have the next four days off for my own drunken revelry writing! 😉

Enjoy your Holidays as much as Monk is enjoying his 🙂

*****

Kindra arrived at Cougar’s tent late in the afternoon, after debating if she even wanted to spend Yule with Gar and his friends. As noon came and went and Loria didn’t return home there was no other choice. She was not going to spend Yule alone.

The friends had been drinking all day and Monk shoved a cup in her hand as soon as she stepped inside. It didn’t take long to figure out that Kindra was a lightweight.

“It’s cause you never go to Festivals,” Monk said as she slapped his incriminating finger out of her face.

“I went to the last one.”

“And the one before that.” Gar smiled to himself as he drained his cup of wine.

She glared around the buzzing in her head. What little she remembered from Trina’s Day did not endear her to him.

Monk laughed. “That’s right. Kindra’s first Feast of Lovers. We’re so proud. You’re a big girl now.”

She turned her glare on Monk. “Nothing happened.”

“That’s not how I heard it.” He grinned and Kindra shot Gar a look of daggers.

“Nothing happened.” Gar shrugged as Cougar’s wife, Cassie, refilled his cup.

Monk continued to grin. “Pike said otherwise.”

“Pike?” Kindra would have lunged at Monk if Gar hadn’t already put his hand on her shoulder. She teetered on drunk feet and fell back into his lap.

“Yep, he said it looked something like that.” Monk took a sip of wine. “Only you were topless.”

Kindra’s ears burned. That was one of the few things she did remember from Trina’s Day. She didn’t remember the ceremony or Gar leading her into the woods, but she clearly remembered pushing him off when she heard Pike’s voice and covering herself as she stumbled back to her tent.

“No,” Gar said as she sat back down and adjusted her shirt. “It wasn’t like that.”

At least he was on her side.

“She was underneath me.”

The men laughed and Kindra turned a cold, betrayed glare on Gar. She grabbed her cup, but it was empty.

Cassie filled it and winked. “You could do a lot worse than Gar.”

“That’s true,” Monk said. “It could have been Al.”

Alligator’s toothy grin resembled his namesake. “I’d be too scared.”

Cougar chuckled. “Gar’s the only one brave enough to try.”

“Or stupid enough,” Monk said.

Kindra slammed her hand down on the floor. “I’m right here!”

Monk lifted his cup to her. “And we’d all understand if you’d rather be at home, underneath Gar.”

This time Gar wasn’t quick enough and Kindra lunged at Monk, knocking him backwards and spilling his wine. She was still weak from her injuries and he pinned her arms behind her easily, then grinned at Gar. “I see why you like her. Feisty.”

Kindra shoved her knee into his upper thigh. “One more word and I’ll go higher.”

Monk laughed. “Truce then, truce! I don’t want to lose my manhood to you.” He released her hands and she stood, putting all her weight on her knee to push herself up. She rubbed her injured arm as she sat back down, further from Gar than she had been before.

Monk refilled his cup, then topped hers off. “We should do this more often. You’re fun when you’re drunk.”

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Rebecca Enzor

Rebecca Enzor is a chemist in Charleston, SC who writes Young Adult and New Adult Fantasy and Magical Realism. Repped by Eric Smith of P.S. Literary.

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