I’ve got a post up on Magical Words today on getting blindsided while writing. Come have a look.
And a snippet:
Alexander kicked aside snow until he found dirt and lowered Gregory down. Instantly he turned to Max. She was on her knees, pulling snow up over her melted flesh. He made harsh whining sound, stretching out for her and stopping when she flashed a look at him. Her eyelids were gone and most of her nose. Her hair was a matted black cap plastered to her skull. Her fingers were blackened stubs and her skin looked like melted wax.
His hands dropped and he swallowed bile. His Prime raged, clawing inside, shredding at his insides.
Thor had turned and was quietly retching. Gregory was struggling to stand.
“Let me—” he said and got no further.
A scouring blast of magic swept across them like the shock wave of a nuclear bomb. It brought with it a wind that rushed past with all the fury of a superheated tornado. Alexander pushed Max down into the snow and huddled over her to protect her. He felt her body quivering. Helplessness strangled him and he struggled to keep his Prime from overwhelming his mind. He was constantly fighting for dominance, to keep from sliding over the edge and disappearing entirely into his beast. He had thought he had gained mastery, or at least equilibrium, but when it came to his feelings for Max, all bets were off.
The snow in the trench melted instantly, leaving them in pools of tepid water and squelching mud. Gravel pelted them in a stinking hail. Then just as quickly, the wind stopped and the air dropped to well below zero. The water skimmed with a skin of ice. The temperature continued to drop. Thor wrapped Gregory in a hug, pulling the witch tight against him to keep him warm.