3,200 words on Tourbillon today over roughly three hours in three different work sessions. I’m off and running.
WIP from the raw draft:
Flowers of rippled red-brown dust bloomed as British artillery shells surrendered to gravity’s inevitable grip and found their way to the African soil. Though he had no sense of smell, the Brass man could well see the fear glistening on the grim faces of the Chinese air sailors who had taken him in their midst these long weeks since the construct of his desires had shattered like a dropped clock. Neither could he smell the violently turned earth where each impact furrowed like the plow of God, though the pressure wave from the explosions buffeted him like angry hands.</p>
And the sound… Brass did not know fear. That was an animal emotion, earned and spent on a rush of hot blood driven by squalid monkey unreason. Boaz was heir to an unbroken line of cool precision, created first in ancient days by the wisdom of King Solomon and perpetuated in magnificent perfection ever since.