Title: Wolf Legend
Author: Florence Witkop
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Jane, who dislikes wolves because they kill livestock, takes Buck Portman, wolf researcher and wildlife professor at the nearby college to an island for a week to seek out the huge wolves legend says have been seen in the area. She's skeptical until a huge wolf runs through their camp... and mentally connects with Jane. Both woman and wolf are startled by their mental connection. The wolf invites Jane to follow so they can sort out what's between them. Jane takes off after the wolf in the dark, followed by the confused professor. She follows the wolf through a cave and into another world, one populated by larger-than-life, dangerous animals, including the wolves of the legend. Her mental connection to the alpha she-wolf is all that saves their lives in that dangerous place. Days later, when they return to their world, at the request of the alpha wolf they take her wolf pup with a broken leg so it can be healed. Problem is that wild wolves are not allowed as pets in our world so the professor must technically care for the wolf with Jane's help. But he has reservations. The huge dire wolf pup is in the wrong world. As it grows, will it remain a pet or become a dangerous predator? As the attraction between Jane and the professor grows, so do the problems inherent in having a huge prehistoric wolf in today's world.
Amazon link: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B009R6WMT0
Smashwords link: http://www.smashwords/com/books/view/287109
There's a newish genre of fiction out there. Okay, a sub-genre. Maybe a sub-sub-genre. I don't know how long it's been around because I noticed it just the other day. Now, normally I don't pay much attention to such things because, as far as I'm concerned, a good story is a good story no matter how it's categorized. I realize fiction must be put into some kind of system so readers can find what they like, but as a writer, the mere thought of deciding what genre my stories fit into can and does do awful things to my psyche.
But this genre was different. The name spoke to me. Magical realism. Two words that don't normally go together even though I've always thought they should. Could the world finally be catching up to my wisdom? Wow!
I like Dean Koontz. And Stephen King when he's not being too gory. They are considered horror writers, though, as Dean Koontz once said, he just writes the stories and someone else decides where to shelve them. And I like Neil Gaiman. He writes fantasy, not horror per se. But, as far as I'm concerned, all of them write magical realism because they all write stories that just slightly skew reality. In their novels the world doesn't morph into something unrecognizable during the course of the story and when that story ends, the world is still as it was at the beginning.
Because the world their stories are set in is instantly and completely recognizable as the world you and I live in. The human population isn't in danger of becoming a minority struggling against the majority population of goblins, witches and other inhuman beings because those writers skew reality only enough for the story to progress but not enough for it to become something other than what it is.
I like that because I like our old, solid, beautiful world. I prefer it to one that has morphed into something else. And I like seeing any and all writers explore the magic that exists all around us. In short, I like magic and the possibilities it presents, both in real life and in fiction. And it's nice to know there's finally a genre that my own stories fit into.
I set the cup on the ground beside me to save the one last cold swallow for later when I turned in for the night. Buck, watching, hooked his own empty cup over his belt and prepared to do the same.
As my cup touched the ground, the largest wolf I'd ever seen ran through our campsite. Two hundred pounds at least, possibly three hundred, with black velvet, silver-tipped fur and yellow eyes that shone in the night.
It was beautiful. Awesome. And it tore through the camp as if we weren't there, scattering plates and silverware every which way and making short work of the tent just because it happened to be in its path. "Oh my God!" My mouth dropped open because the wolf couldn't exist. Not here, not anywhere on earth. But it did.
The wolf heard. Stopped. Turned towards me. Scared the crap out of me because it was larger than me, double the size of any wolf I'd ever heard of and a predator. Tipped its head to one side and looked straight at me. Stared.
Our looks met. Connected. My fear disappeared because it wasn't looking for food. It was on its way home and in a hurry to get there. The pups missed their mom, the rest of the pack was good, they took care of the pups, but they couldn't take the place of a real mother. It should hurry home.
I blinked. Tried to wrap my mind around what was happening and failed completely. I couldn't know what it was thinking. I couldn't be reading its mind. Of course not, it was impossible to know what another human being was thinking, let alone a wolf. Wolves were a whole other species.
Except that I did.
Florence’s stories begin as simple tales of contemporary life, often in small towns or the wilderness she knows so well. Where they go from there is what makes them special. There is always a strong sense of place. Sometimes they cross genres and contain paranormal, sci/fi, or fantasy elements. There is usually a romance and there are always characters her readers like and would enjoy having as friends.
Most of all, there is a story because what Florence does best is tell stories. Well plotted stories that carry the characters towards a logical conclusion that always includes a happy ending. Stories that shine light on the human condition while they celebrate the world we live in. Stories that her readers relate to and remember long after the reading is over.
She writes about people who are as normal as apple pie (most of them, anyway) who unexpectedly find themselves in the middle of situations ranging from the heartwarming through the difficult and all the way to the horrendous. But Florence’s characters choose to act instead of running away. In the process, they survive, thrive, overcome whatever obstacles large or small are thrown in front of them, and while they are at it, they find time to fall in love.
Florence was born in the city and has lived in the suburbs, small towns, the country and the wilderness area of northern Minnesota, where she still lives with her husband and a cowardly cat named Smoke.
At various times in her writing career she’s been a confession writer, a copywriter, a ghost writer and an editor. She writes short stories, novellas and novels. Her work has been categorized as romance, science-fiction, fantasy, mainstream and eco-fiction, to name a few genres that it fits so beautifully into.a Rafflecopter giveaway