Spotlight: North Country by Sarah Branson
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Four women, each with a secret. None will return from the North Country unchanged.
North Country takes place in the year 2372, a time when Earth is recovering from floods, fires, pandemics, and war. Amidst this post-apocalyptic world, the pirate nation of Bosch is thriving—but not without its complications. The focus is on four fierce women who must navigate their way through both external dangers and their own personal demons.
Master Commander Kat Wallace, haunted by a past filled with violence, takes on a dangerous mission to the North Country in search of peace.
Carisa Morton, struggling with her failing body and independence slipping away, embarks on one last adventure before it's too late.
Sergeant Flossie Porter hides a hidden family fortune and a deep infatuation with her commanding officer, putting everything on the line for the chance to be by her side.
Master Sergeant Diamond Miata, driven by ambition and beauty, will stop at nothing to advance her own agenda—even if it means testing her loyalty in the process.
As they trek through the barren land, each woman faces betrayal, desire, and the harsh truths of their own hearts. North Country is an exploration of strength, vulnerability, and the bonds that form between women in even the toughest circumstances.
Excerpt
Kat, February 8 1100
The four of us tramp along for three-quarters of a bell through the snow from where the Whydah is parked and camouflaged, following the old, wooded, water path. Our footsteps are muffled and our voices silent in the dim dawn. The cold stings my cheeks, and in my gloves, I pull my fingers from their assigned places to rub against my warm palms. The horizon, when the trees are clear enough to be seen, has the thin, chill, morning light of winter filtering about the soaring, craggy mountains that jut up and keep the villages near the lake isolated from the coastal folk and, let’s be honest, almost everyone else.
A deep inhale pulls the icy air inside of my nose, where it stings, but I can catch a hint of wood and coal smoke in the air. The fragrance brings a host of memories with it, and I’m actually surprised that not all of them are bad. Grandma Rina’s voice rings in my little girl ears: “Stick to the trails, my little Kitten, and always fill both your water jugs to the same level. It makes balancing them easier.” This recently unearthed memory lifts my spirits, and I shake my head a little as less pleasant ones try to push to the front to gain my attention. I focus on putting one foot in front of the other, which is work, as through the night the snow has blown onto the path, and it almost feels like we are breaking a new trail.
We reach a small crossroad clearing that, while snow-covered, still shows the ruts from hand wagons having been pulled along over the years. I pull out the old compass that Teddy left me after he died and check our bearings. “Based on my memory and those old maps, we have about another bell-plus to reach the farm location.” My breath blows out in puffs of steam.
“Why didn’t the settlers build the village closer to the lake? Seems like a long way to trek for water before they dug wells.” Carisa has her academic inquiry voice on.
With a chuckle, I challenge her, “Oh, I think you know. Given what I’ve said about their superstitious nature…”
“A lake monster?” Carisa sounds giddy. “Oh, that is the stuff of great mythology.”
Sergeant Porter looks back, her brows creased. “Not a real monster, though, right?”
I grin and give the North Country answer. “Well, I ain’t never saw it myself, but I got a cousin who had a friend whose uncle was ’et up by it.” Flossie Porter looks horrified, and I laugh. “There’s two kinds of folk here in this village and the surrounds, Porter, the superstitious ones and the ones savvy enough to exploit the superstitious. Is there something big in Tassy? Maybe. Is it a monster? Doubtful? Will the story keep your kids from going too close to the lake? Absolutely. Will it guarantee a quiet meeting place for less than legitimate endeavors? Yes, ma’am, it will.”
Carisa is still staring back toward where the lake lies. “The Myths of the North Country.” She says wistfully, “I’d like to write that book.”
“Sounds like a fine idea. More of the research can happen on our next trip here.” Which will be just this side of absolutely never, I quip to myself. “For now, we should come to where the road veers off toward the farm location in another couple kilometers. Once we have established a base.” I point at the two BI troopers. “The two of you can head to the mountain. Carisa and I will continue our own fact-finding efforts.” I wink at my blonde friend as we start back on our journey through the snow.
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About the Author
Sarah Branson, an award-winning author, writes thrilling tales of action, adventure, and heart, often featuring strong female leads in sci-fi and dystopian settings. After nearly thirty years as a midwife, Sarah has channeled her experiences into stories about the strength of women in extraordinary circumstances. She believes that badass women will inherit the Earth—and that Earth will be better for it.
Website: https://www.sarahbranson.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/sarah.branson.author
