Idra Fallow
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idrafallow.bsky.social
Idra Fallow
@idrafallow.bsky.social
300 followers 94 following 990 posts
Garden hermit. Occasional persona of
Pinko Scare.
she/her
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idrafallow.bsky.social
A little late to this one, but I love the calendar I created for my fantasy world. #WIPSnips
The dry earth covering the rock mound crumbled underfoot as I staggered over it. How long since it had rained? Winter usually brought frequent, sudden bursts of rain that gave way to extended storms in spring. But it had been much dryer than usual, and the cold days had gone on far later into spring than anyone could remember. We were in the third month now, the Gazelle Moon, two months past the equinox. But the cold persisted, and the spring rains had still not come.
November 22, 2025 at 9:44 PM
idrafallow.bsky.social
I LOVE this it's so spooky! Very curious to know what the carved eyes are about, too.

Also -- I have birch eyes in my WIP as well. Exciting that someone else has felt drawn to them.

Happy writing!
In the morning, I came upon a slender birch near the edge of the open wood. Its bark glowed white in the dawn. The sun rose over the sharp bend in the river that everyone called the Elbow. Near my village, the river ran west to east. But past this point, it ran north to south. “Hello,” I whispered to the birch. It stared at me with its many eyes in silence.
November 21, 2025 at 1:14 PM
idrafallow.bsky.social
Spoiled for choice with this one, tbh. "Direction" is one of my theme words :)
The moon was gone and the stars had turned. Dawn would be here soon. The Ibex strode along the eastern horizon. The Bear was in the north. The Midwife had long since gone back to her sleeping place. In the northwest, the Wanderer was shining, brighter than anything else in that part of the sky. I turned in a circle, gazing up at all of them. And then I ran toward the Wanderer, and prayed I was heading in the right direction.
November 21, 2025 at 1:09 PM
idrafallow.bsky.social
I need to clean up the prose a bit and think of a better name for the flowers (they're based on a type of crocus that I found by googling "poisonous blue flower"). But I was proud of myself for coming up with this on the fly in about five minutes. I put a couple of myths like this in the wip
“I didn’t know spirits had wives,” he said. “Or that geese did, either.” “Their story a sad one. Šamay was once a human woman, a skilled huntress, admired by all who knew her. One winter day she went to the marsh to hunt for geese. She aimed her bow at a big grey goose with a white belly and black-tipped wings, and was about to let her arrow fly, but she became so captivated by the goose’s beauty that she set down her weapons. She offered him some bread, and then he turned into a man. A beautiful man, tall and dark-haired, wearing a cloak of grey and black feathers. He told her his name was Awazwa, the goose spirit, and gave her some blue qulha flowers, and they fell in love. But Šamay had promised to marry a man in her village, and her mother and sisters convinced her it wouldn’t do to marry a spirit. Where will you live?, they said. In the marshgrass? In the mire? So Šamay married the village man, and she became so heartbroken that she began to wither away. Finally, when she couldn’t bear her unhappiness any longer, she went out to the marsh and ate the blue qulhas Awazwa had given her, which she kept in a pouch around her neck even though everyone knows they’re poison. Awazwa was so sick with grief that he stopped bringing the rain, and none of the grain grasses would grow, and everyone else began to wither just like Šamay. Finally Abashu, the sun, convinced the spirits beneath the earth to let Šamay go live in the heavens with him. That way Awazwa could still see her, even if he couldn’t reach her. And he turned the sky blue like the qulha flowers so that everyone would remember her.”  He raised his brows when I finished. “You’re right, that is sad. Are all Gir-yushi stories like that?” “Many of them.”
November 19, 2025 at 11:53 PM
idrafallow.bsky.social
I was certain that it was the same place I’d been a few nights ago. The same deep pool of slow-moving water, the same rocks beside it. The trees were in the same places as before, but they were poplars, ash, and elms. There was even a slender, many-eyed birch. But no terebinths. I lay back in the grass and closed my eyes. I had seen too many strange things lately. Too many visions and glimpses of the other place. They were exhausting, and I could not bring myself to spend too long pondering the trees. Especially when the sun was warm and the breeze was gentle, and my nose was filled with the dark smell of earth and leaves. I breathed it in and for the first time in days I felt calm, truly calm, enough that I could almost fall asleep. But I was beginning to learn that calm was not something I was meant to have. A familiar presence brought me back to my worries. 
November 17, 2025 at 6:23 PM
idrafallow.bsky.social
Go out to meet the Wanderer. The instructions had been clear. Stay on the path. Alright. Don’t stray. I promise. It was nighttime, but I kept walking. I ought to stop, I thought. Find a tree to climb and get some sleep. But who could sleep, with such an empty belly, and such strange stars overhead? I stared at them as I walked. The branches twisted in black knots above me, blotting out the stars, save one. The Wanderer. I smiled back at him. A long, mournful cry split the night. I stopped walking, head tilted, listening for the answering calls. But none came. The faraway wolf howled again, a lonely keening. I should have been afraid of it. I was afraid of it. But in that moment, I felt an ache of sadness for the creature. Where were its fellows? Its family, its pack? Wolves weren’t meant to run alone. It called again, and a mad urge to answer seized me. I drew a breath, cupped my hands around my mouth, and let out my own mournful, keening cry. I’m here too, and alone like you. A long pause. I thought perhaps the wolf was not fooled by my imitation. But then there came another howl, rising high and then deepening at the end. We are together in our aloneness. I called out to it again, my howl breaking into a laugh near the end. This time, there were more voices in the answer. A few of them sounded close by. My laughter died and my fear returned. There came a few more cries, even closer now, and then a twig snapping in the dark. My heart skipped. I turned and fled, without thought for the direction I was heading, the crash and echo of my footsteps betraying my path. Liquid shadows flowed around me. Teeth and eyes glinted in what scant moonlight found its way to the forest floor. The shadows leapt up and poured back down, yipping and snarling, merging together and then scattering again into dozens. They took on mass and stood in front of me, with yellow eyes and a tattered ear, advancing, menacing, baring teeth as I came to a halt and backed away.
November 16, 2025 at 3:57 PM
idrafallow.bsky.social
Here's one where I cheated a little. The protagonist is having a vision of a world she does not know anything about, so I just kind of had the word "throne" magically occur to her.

I think I'm going to find a new word for "oil lamp." "Grease lights" or something, maybe.
The room was cavernous and dimly lit, made entirely from stone. I stared through the gloom ahead of me—I could do nothing but stare, unable to move my head or even close my eyes. An unnatural place, all straight lines and squared angles, made even more disorienting by my inverted position. Across the room, another unnatural object stood upon a raised dais. It was made from wood, cut with exacting precision. Rectangular pieces stood on end, tightly joined to others set parallel to the floor. It was carved all over with snakes and polished to such a shine that the creatures seemed to move in the dim flickering flames of the oil lamps set into the wall behind it. I had never seen any object so elaborately worked, though I had no idea what it was. Throne. The word came to me, though I’d never heard it before.
November 15, 2025 at 4:17 PM
idrafallow.bsky.social
As we moved through the forest, the underbrush grew dense. The spaces between the trees were filled with tangles of grass and pricklebushes that in some places reached above my head. Our progress slowed as we fought our way through it, until we finally came to a small clear space, surrounded by a high wall of feathery grass. I felt oddly safe there, enclosed in a green womb of vegetation. Cross though he may be, I could see this Forest Man did not mean me any harm. He sat on the other side of the clearing, still holding my belongings. I watched in silence while he dug through my pack and found my pouch of rations. He helped himself to some of the smoked hare meat and berries I’d managed to save over the last few days, then tossed the pouch to me.
November 15, 2025 at 4:11 PM
idrafallow.bsky.social
Snake-kebab is sort of like a burger, right?
She stood and turned to the fire, pushed the burning coals aside with her bare hand, plucked out a long skewer. It was crowded with greasy chunks of meat. She slid them off the skewer and arranged them on a piece of bark. “One good turn deserves another, don’t you think?” She set the platter down beside me. Charred bits of scaly skin still clung to the blackened meat. My mouth watered, my stomach squirmed and churned, hungersick and empty. She watched while I considered this burnt flesh offering. My hunger won out against my fear. I picked at the greasy meat. It did not taste as revolting as I’d expected.
November 11, 2025 at 5:52 PM
idrafallow.bsky.social
This has reminded me that I need to remove a few instances of the phrase "a little."
The stormclouds moved on eventually, and the landscape they left behind was transformed. Bright green grass shot up and blanketed the meadows. Trees blossomed and fruited. The red deer in the woodlands grew fat and gave birth to gangly little fawns. In the village, we emerged from the shelter of our huts and began the work of stockpiling as much food as we could before the warm days gave way to winter.
November 8, 2025 at 3:17 PM
idrafallow.bsky.social
Screenshot of Mia's score card, with the number of "faults" crossed out and a 0 written next to it.
November 8, 2025 at 7:58 AM
idrafallow.bsky.social
I have such fond memories of these books.
Paul Bransom illustration (1913) from "The Wind in The Willows" story "Piper at the Gates of Dawn." The picture is of Mole and Ratty looking up at the demi-god Pan, who is sitting against a rock playing his flute.
November 7, 2025 at 1:11 AM
idrafallow.bsky.social
When you befriend your editor and she sends you an excerpt from her wip.
"Look at me, I am the captain now" meme. There are proofreading symbols on the meme in red, with a "remove" symbol over "CAPTAIN" and a carrot inserting "EDITOR", so the meme now reads "Look at me. I m the editor now."
November 6, 2025 at 1:15 PM
idrafallow.bsky.social
My scummiest character. I love writing him.
“Do you even know how to get there?” “Hemen said to follow the river.” He took my arm and pulled me to a stop. We stood beneath a terebinth. The sun and shadows from its twisted, fruit-laden branches shifted on his face. He looked truly worried, staring at me with his eyes wide and his mouth tense. “Hemen is a fool. You can’t just follow the river. It will take you twice as long, and it’s too dangerous. There’s all sorts of things hiding in the brush there. Jackals and lions and any other unpleasant beast you can imagine.” “Then where should I go?” “There’s a path. It’s faint in places, but you’ll see it if you look. Just stay on it and keep going north. Don’t stray from it.” “And what if I do?” His grip on my arm tightened. “Don’t.” “Alright, I’ll stay on the path,” I said. The concern in his voice was alarming. I’d only considered this affair a diversion while Zahur was away. Qirim couldn’t truly care for me, could he? “Do you have any other advice?” “Yes. Don’t tell anyone you meet there that we know each other.”
November 5, 2025 at 3:50 PM
idrafallow.bsky.social
*John Wayne face*
Dog wearing a red neckerchief, staring into the distance
October 25, 2025 at 5:22 PM
idrafallow.bsky.social
Cozy o'clock
Sunset over trees Dog sitting outside a tent at night Dog cozy inside the tent Supper cooking on a wood stove
October 25, 2025 at 12:09 AM
idrafallow.bsky.social
I went camping to help get going with Book 2, and the local wolves and coyotes have been happy to help cultivate some vibes while I write.
The shadows melted like the ink. They puddled on the ground, spread their filaments and tendrils, and then all at once I was surrounded. How many were there? Seven, a dozen, three? Impossible to say. They kept running into each other, merging, congealing, then scattering again. But there was one that stood alone. A great she-wolf, with yellow eyes, a thick black coat, scarred face and tattered ear. I knew her and she knew me. We held each other's gaze, caught in a staring match, and I remembered then that I was only a woman, not a wolf. Small and fragile, with no fangs or claws. I did not even have my arrows.
September 28, 2025 at 11:11 PM
idrafallow.bsky.social
*Woody from Toy Story voice* There's a frog in my tent!
Frog. In my tent.
September 26, 2025 at 4:54 AM
idrafallow.bsky.social
Me: Why is the northern sky so bright? It can't be city lights, right?

The Aurora Borealis: 'Sup.
A very dark photo of the aurora
September 15, 2025 at 2:15 AM
idrafallow.bsky.social
Autumn fire
A sugar maple shows its bright fall colors, standing out among aspens and alders
September 15, 2025 at 1:11 AM
idrafallow.bsky.social
Husband dug a trench. It looks like someone tried to dam up the creek that runs across our easement road, which has just caused it to flood whenever it rains. So we put in a culvert pipe instead. Tomorrow we will cover it all up with dirt, and hopefully that will solve some of the problem.
A ditch full of rocks.
September 14, 2025 at 12:00 AM
idrafallow.bsky.social
Gettin cozy
A tent with an air mattress, a dog, and a wood stove.
September 13, 2025 at 11:53 PM
idrafallow.bsky.social
Hopefully it will get drier in here, too.
A digital display showing temperature and humidity. It is 59.9 degrees Fahrenheit and 84% humidity.
September 11, 2025 at 4:12 AM
idrafallow.bsky.social
Not the most aesthetic setup. The fire mat is all sooty because of an earlier mishap when I was burning the stove off outside. But it's already warmer in here.
September 11, 2025 at 4:10 AM
idrafallow.bsky.social
First burn in the wood stove
September 10, 2025 at 3:45 PM