camp Nanowrimo

As I had promised, here is a portion of my writing for NaNo this month. I am not anywhere close to par, so I fear I will not hit 50k words by the end of July, but I have hopes that I will get a lot done this week. Wish me well!
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Samuel maneuvered his horse out of the caravan at the road marker showing the boarder of Cynwrig. The winding foothills at the south of the main road were easy riding on his horse. The miles easily disappeared beneath the horse’s stride. The foothills shifted into baby mountains, and the trees changed, from towering conifers to squat fruit trees, all planted in neat rows. Each tree was just above Samuel’s head height, while seated on his mare. The spaces between the trees were recently trampled, the fruit harvest finally complete, making travel easy. Though his friend had only lived here a few years, Samuel didn’t need to direct his steed. She already knew the way to cut across rows till they came upon the main path, two well worn wagon tracks cutting a thick swatch through the trees. A quick turn and a kick at the mare’s flanks, and Samuel headed up the path to center of the orchard.

Two barns flanked a log cabin with a full wrap around porch. The posts supporting the porch roof a lighter tan than the rest of the building, obvious in their newness. The sun reflected off of the windows, turning them into mirrors reflecting the orchard back at him. Samuel dismounted and wrapped the rein loosely around the railing, skipping the first stair and the third to the porch. He stopped at the support post, running a hand across the rough spots on the wood. This had been the first one he and Devon had stripped of bark, they hadn't been sure of what they were doing, and their novice showed in the rough splinters. He would need to sand it soon. He turned to knock, but before he could reach the door, it opened to reveal an older woman.

Her blond curls were striped in a gray several shades lighter than her eyes. Her dress was worn, practical, with a half apron tied at her waist, stained in bright red cherry juice. The creases in the corners of her eyes deepened as she saw Samuel. “Samuel my boy, you’re a day late! You have too much fun in that midway? Perhaps spend too much fun time with that lady friend?” Her eyes tightened, shifting, searching the tree line. “Where is Devon?”

Samuel pulled a mug from his belt, and a green ribbon. He fiddled with both for a moment before handing them both to the woman. She took them in both her hands, eyes not leaving the mug. “Miss Gethin? Ma? May I come in?”

Devon’s mother nodded, shifting back, allowing Samuel to come inside.