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Survival of the Fittest – Blog Hop

Jacqui Murray has a new prehistoric fiction book!
I loved Born in a Treacherous Time (see my review here).
I can’t wait to dig into this new one
Congrats, Jacqui!

Blurb

Five tribes. One leader. A treacherous journey across three continents in search of a new home.

Chased by a ruthless and powerful enemy, Xhosa flees with her People, leaving behind a certain life in her African homeland to search for an unknown future. She leads her People on a grueling journey through unknown and dangerous lands but an escape path laid out years before by her father as a final desperate means to survival.

She is joined by other homeless tribes–from Indonesia, China, South Africa, East Africa, and the Levant—all similarly forced by timeless events to find new lives. As they struggle to overcome treachery, lies, danger, tragedy, hidden secrets, and Nature herself, Xhosa must face the reality that this enemy doesn’t want her People’s land. He wants to destroy her.

Jacqui’s Q & A

Could Xhosa (the main character of Survival of the Fittest) really have traveled with a wolf companion?

Dogs weren’t domesticated until about 10-15,000 years ago, long after Xhosa lived 850,000 years ago. But her understanding of man and animal were not what ours is. To Xhosa, the line between man and animal was blurry. She didn’t think of animals as lesser creatures. Why would she? As far as she knew, like her, they could plan, think, problem-solve, and display emotions just as she did.

So, for Xhosa to partner with a wolf made perfect sense.

Book information:

Title and author: Survival of the Fittest by Jacqui Murray
Book 1 in the Crossroads series, part of the Man vs. Nature saga
Genre: Prehistoric fiction
Cover by: Damonza
Available at: Amazon Global Link

Chapter1

Her foot throbbed. Blood dripped from a deep gash in her leg. At some point, Xhosa had scraped her palms raw while sliding across gravel but didn’t remember when, nor did it matter. Arms pumping, heart thundering, she flew forward. When her breath went from pants to wheezing gasps, she lunged to a stop, hands pressed against her damp legs, waiting for her chest to stop heaving. She should rest but that was nothing but a passing thought, discarded as quickly as it arrived. Her mission was greater than exhaustion or pain or personal comfort.

She started again, sprinting as though chased, aching fingers wrapped around her spear. The bellows of the imaginary enemy—Big Heads this time—filled the air like an acrid stench. She flung her spear over her shoulder, aiming from memory. A thunk and it hit the tree, a stand-in for the enemy. With a growl, she pivoted to defend her People.

Which would never happen. Females weren’t warriors.

Feet spread, mouth set in a tight line, she launched her last spear, skewering an imaginary assailant, and was off again, feet light, her abundance of ebony hair streaming behind her like smoke. A scorpion crunched beneath her hardened foot. Something moved in the corner of her vision and she hurled a throwing stone, smiling as a hare toppled over. Nightshade called her reactions those of Leopard.

But that didn’t matter. Females didn’t become hunters either.

With a lurch, she gulped in the parched air. The lush green grass had long since given way to brittle stalks and desiccated scrub. Sun’s heat drove everything alive underground, underwater, or over the horizon. The males caught her attention across the field, each with a spear and warclub. Today’s hunt would be the last until the rain—and the herds—returned.

“Why haven’t they left?”

She kicked a rock and winced as pain shot through her foot. Head down, eyes shut against the memories. Even after all this time, the chilling screams still rang in her ears…

The People’s warriors had been away hunting when the assault occurred. Xhosa’s mother pushed her young daughter into a reed bed and stormed toward the invaders but too late to save the life of her young son. The killer, an Other, laughed at the enraged female armed only with a cutter. When she sliced his cheek open, the gash so deep his black teeth showed, his laughter became fury. He swung his club with such force her mother crumpled instantly, her head a shattered melon.

From the safety of the pond, Xhosa memorized the killer—nose hooked awkwardly from some earlier injury, eyes dark pools of cruelty. It was then, at least in spirit, she became a warrior. Nothing like this must ever happen again.

When her father, the People’s Leader, arrived that night with his warriors, he was greeted by the devastating scene of blood-soaked ground covered by mangled bodies, already chewed by scavengers. A dry-eyed Xhosa told him how marauders had massacred every subadult, female, and child they could find, including her father’s pairmate. Xhosa communicated this with the usual grunts, guttural sounds, hand signals, facial expressions, hisses, and chirps. The only vocalizations were call signs to identify the group members.

“If I knew how to fight, Father, Mother would be alive.” Her voice held no anger, just determination.

The tribe she described had arrived a Moon ago, drawn by the area’s rich fruit trees, large ponds, lush grazing, and bluffs with a view as far as could be traveled in a day. No other area offered such a wealth of resources. The People’s scouts had seen these Others but allowed them to forage, not knowing their goal was to destroy the People.

Her father’s body raged but his hands, when they moved, were calm.  “We will avenge our losses, daughter.”

The next morning, Xhosa’s father ordered the hunters to stay behind, protect the People. He and the warriors snuck into the enemy camp before Sun awoke and slaughtered the females and children before anyone could launch a defense. The males were pinned to the ground with stakes driven through their thighs and hands. The People cut deep wounds into their bodies and left, the blood scent calling all scavengers.

When Xhosa asked if the one with the slashed cheek had died, her father motioned, “He escaped, alone. He will not survive.”

Word spread of the savagery and no one ever again attacked the People, not their camp, their warriors, or their hunters.

While peace prevailed, Xhosa grew into a powerful but odd-looking female. Her hair was too shiny, hips too round, waist too narrow beneath breasts bigger than necessary to feed babies. Her legs were slender rather than sturdy and so long, they made her taller than every male. The fact that she could outrun even the hunters while heaving her spear and hitting whatever she aimed for didn’t matter. Females weren’t required to run that fast. Nightshade, though, didn’t care about any of that. He claimed they would pairmate, as her father wished, when he became the People’s Leader.

Until then, all of her time was spent practicing the warrior skills no one would allow her to use.

One day, she confronted her father. “I can wield a warclub one-handed and throw a spear hard enough to kill. If I were male, you would make me a warrior.”

He smiled. “You are like a son to me, Daughter. I see your confidence and boldness. If I don’t teach you, I fear I will lose you.”

He looked away, the smile long gone from his lips. “Either you or Nightshade must lead when I can’t.”

Under her father’s tutelage, she and Nightshade learned the nuances of sparring, battling, chasing, defending, and assaulting with the shared goal that never would the People succumb to an enemy. Every one of Xhosa’s spear throws destroyed the one who killed her mother. Every swing of her warclub smashed his head as he had her mother’s. Never again would she stand by, impotent, while her world collapsed. She perfected the skills of knapping cutters and sharpening spears, and became expert at finding animal trace in bent twigs, crushed grass, and by listening to their subtle calls. She could walk without leaving tracks and match nature’s sounds well enough to be invisible.

A Moon ago, as Xhosa practiced her scouting, she came upon a lone warrior kneeling by a waterhole. His back was to her, skeletal and gaunt, his warclub chipped, but menace oozed from him like stench from dung. She melted into the redolent sedge grasses, feet sinking into the squishy mud, and observed.

His head hair was sprinkled with grey. A hooked nose canted precariously, poorly healed from a fracas he won but his nose lost. His curled lips revealed cracked and missing teeth. A cut on his upper arm festered with pus and maggots. Fever dimpled his forehead with sweat. He crouched to drink but no amount of water would appease that thirst.

What gave him away was the wide ragged scar left from the slash of her mother’s cutter.

Xhosa trembled with rage, fearing he would see the reeds shake, biting her lip until it bled to stop from howling. It hardly seemed fair to slay a dying male but fairness was not part of her plan today.

Only revenge.

A check of her surroundings indicated he traveled alone. Not that it mattered. If she must trade her life for his, so be it.

But she didn’t intend to die.

The exhausted warrior splashed muddy water on his grimy head, hands slow, shoulders round with fatigue, oblivious to his impending death. After a quiet breath, she stepped from the sedge, spear in one hand and a large rock in the other. Exposed, arms ready but hanging, she approached. If he turned, he would see her. She tested for dry twigs and brittle grass before committing each foot. It surprised her he ignored the silence of the insects. His wounds must distract him. By the time hair raised on his neck, it was too late. He pivoted as she swung, powered by fury over her mother’s death, her father’s agony, and her own loss. Her warclub smashed into his temple with a soggy thud. Recognition flared moments before life left.

“You die too quickly!” she screamed and hit him over and over, collapsing his skull and spewing gore over her body. “I wanted you to suffer as I did!”

Her body was numb as she kicked him into the pond, feeling not joy for his death, relief that her mother was avenged, or upset at the execution of an unarmed Other. She cleaned the gore from her warclub and left. No one would know she had been blooded but the truth filled her with power.

She was now a warrior.

When she returned to homebase, Nightshade waited. Something flashed through his eyes as though for the first time, he saw her as a warrior. His chiseled face, outlined by dense blue-black hair, lit up. The corners of his full lips twitched under the broad flat nose. The finger-thick white scar emblazoned against his smooth forehead, a symbol of his courage surviving Sabertooth’s claws, pulsed. Female eyes watched him, wishing he would look at them as he did Xhosa but he barely noticed.

The next day, odd Others with long legs, skinny chests, and oversized heads arrived. The People’s scouts confronted them but they simply watched the scouts, spears down, and then trotted away, backs to the scouts. That night, for the first time, Xhosa’s father taught her and Nightshade the lessons of leading.

“Managing the lives of the People is more than winning battles. You must match individual skills to the People’s requirements be it as a warrior, hunter, scout, forager, child minder, Primary Female, or another.  All can do all jobs but one best suits each. The Leader must decide,” her father motioned.

As they finished, she asked the question she’d been thinking about all night. “Father, where do they come from?”

“They are called Big Heads,” which didn’t answer Xhosa’s question.

Nightshade motioned, “Do they want to trade females? Or children?”

Her father stared into the distance as though lost in some memory. His teeth ground together and his hands shook until he clamped them together.

He finally took a breath and motioned, “No, they don’t want mates. They want conflict.” He tilted his head forward. “Soon, we will be forced to stop them.”

Nightshade clenched his spear and his eyes glittered at the prospect of battle. It had been a long time since the People fought.

But the Big Heads vanished. Many of the People were relieved but Xhosa couldn’t shake the feeling that danger lurked only a long spear throw away. She found herself staring at the same spot her father had, thoughts blank, senses burning. At times, there was a movement or the glint of Sun off eyes, but mostly there was only the unnerving feeling of being watched. Each day felt one day closer to when the People’s time would end.

“When it does, I will confess to killing the Other. Anyone blooded must be allowed to be a warrior.”

Author bio:

Jacqui Murray is the author of the popular Building a Midshipman, the story of her daughter’s journey from high school to United States Naval Academy, the Rowe-Delamagente thrillers, and the Man vs. Nature saga. She is also the author/editor of over a hundred books on integrating tech into education, adjunct professor of technology in education, blog webmaster, an Amazon Vine Voice, a columnist for TeachHUB and NEA Today, and a freelance journalist on tech ed topics. Look for her next prehistoric fiction, Quest for Home, Summer 2019. You can find her tech ed books at her publisher’s website, Structured Learning

Social Media Contacts:

Twitter  
Pinterest  
Linkedin  
Word Dreams Blog
jacquimurray.net

93 thoughts on “Survival of the Fittest – Blog Hop”

  1. Survival of the Fittest – Blog Hop #newbookrelease #bookblast #prehistoricfiction – The Dragonspire says:
    March 17, 2019 at 1:39 pm

    […] amazing first chapter, (which you can read in full at fellow hop participant Diana’s blog: Myths of the Mirror), reminds me of that wonderful Dreamworks film, The Croods. (Only more violent and realistic!). I […]

    Liked by 1 person

  2. mylilplace says:
    March 10, 2019 at 8:23 pm

    Wishing you all the best with the book release, Jacqui. And my sincere congratulations! I read the excerpt and its so gooood! I have no doubt it will do well! Diana, what an amazing support you are to the writers! Great job, my friend.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Julie Holmes, author says:
    March 10, 2019 at 1:41 pm

    Wishing you much luck with your new release, Jacqui! A success for sure 😀 !

    Liked by 2 people

  4. noelleg44 says:
    March 10, 2019 at 8:48 am

    Sounds like a likely successor to Jeanne Auel?

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Athena Bocock says:
    March 9, 2019 at 9:51 am

    I like it already! I’ll have to read it sometime.

    Liked by 2 people

    • D. Wallace Peach says:
      March 9, 2019 at 12:18 pm

      I wasn’t sure about prehistoric fiction, but Jacqui got me hooked with her first book. I’m looking forward to this one. She’s a wonderful writer. 🙂 Thanks for the visit, Athena. Enjoy the rest of your weekend!

      Liked by 1 person

      • Jacqui Murray says:
        March 9, 2019 at 12:33 pm

        These stories are less about history than about man’s indomitable will to survive, his ability to solve problems and create something he’s never seen before. How awesome was it when the first man discovered the wheel!

        Liked by 1 person

  6. ParentingIsFunny says:
    March 9, 2019 at 8:29 am

    Go, Jacqui, go!

    Liked by 2 people

  7. Smorgasbord - Variety is the Spice of Life. says:
    March 9, 2019 at 5:45 am

    Congratulations Jacqui…look forward to reading. thanks for sharing Diana.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Smorgasbord - Variety is the Spice of Life. says:
    March 9, 2019 at 5:42 am

    Reblogged this on Smorgasbord Blog Magazine and commented:
    Diana Wallace Peach shares the new book by Jacqui Murray – Survival of the Fittest…looking forward to as I enjoyed Born in a Treacherous Time so much… Head over and find out more, including an excerpt from the book.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. robbiesinspiration says:
    March 9, 2019 at 2:21 am

    Congratulations, Jacqui, on the new book. An exciting extract.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Marina Costa says:
    March 8, 2019 at 8:14 am

    Reblogged this on Marina Costa and commented:
    A fascinating book from an interesting writer!

    Liked by 2 people

  11. dgkaye says:
    March 7, 2019 at 4:38 pm

    Congrats again Jacqui! Wishing you tons of sales. 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  12. Jessica Bakkers says:
    March 7, 2019 at 4:33 pm

    Ooo! This looks great. As a HUGE fan of the Clan of the cave bear series, I’m all over anything prehistoric! Thanks for bringing my attention to Jacqui and her books.
    Jacqui, I adore your cover and am very intrigued after Ch 1. Congratulations!

    Liked by 2 people

  13. roughwighting says:
    March 7, 2019 at 1:53 pm

    A wonderful starting point of the hop with this interview question, Diana and Jacqui. I agree with you, it’s only as humans became “less primitive'” (ha!) and more arrogant that they decided they were a “superior” species. I can’t wait to read your next book (enjoyed and learned so much from Born in a Treacherous Time).

    Liked by 3 people

  14. Bette A. Stevens says:
    March 7, 2019 at 12:10 pm

    Wonderful lead-in with Chapter 1, Jacqui! Grabbing a copy of “Survival of the Fittest” today. 🙂 Wishing you great success with this fascinating and well researched series.

    Liked by 2 people

  15. Mae Clair says:
    March 7, 2019 at 10:48 am

    I was just reading about this book on another blog. It’s great the exposure Jacqui is getting on her tour. Wishing her all the best with Survival of the Fittest. The cover is striking!

    Liked by 2 people

  16. Damyanti Biswas says:
    March 7, 2019 at 9:06 am

    That’s a great excerpt. Sharing! All the best to you, Jacqui.

    Liked by 2 people

  17. watchingthedaisies says:
    March 7, 2019 at 8:55 am

    A very powerful chapter Jacqui. Xhosa is quite a warrior!

    Liked by 2 people

  18. cath says:
    March 7, 2019 at 8:41 am

    What a great extract, full of tension.

    The question of Xhosa having a wolf companion raises a lot of interesting ideas about how the human species interacts with other animals. Tantalising…

    Liked by 2 people

    • D. Wallace Peach says:
      March 7, 2019 at 8:47 am

      Thanks for stopping by, Cath. I remember reading somewhere that human history goes back so far with dogs that we’ve actually genetically evolved into a more symbiotic relationship able to read cues much more easily than we can with other animals. I think that’s pretty darn cool. Thanks for the visit!

      Liked by 2 people

    • Jacqui Murray says:
      March 7, 2019 at 9:16 am

      And that’s what I was hoping for, Cath. We know wolves weren’t domesticated (to become dogs) until 20kBCE (or there abouts) but that doesn’t mean they weren’t friends.

      Liked by 1 person

  19. Annika Perry says:
    March 7, 2019 at 8:25 am

    Diana, lovely to see Jacqui on your blog during her tour with her latest book! The cover and blurb are terrific … an intense and compelling plot! Best of luck to Jacqui with her latest release and I am in awe of her energy and drive! 😀

    Liked by 2 people

  20. balroop2013 says:
    March 7, 2019 at 7:34 am

    I am looking forward to reading Survival of the Fittest. Wishing you great success Jacqui. Love your support Diana. Stay blessed!

    Liked by 2 people

  21. Jacqui Murray says:
    March 7, 2019 at 7:26 am

    Thank you so much for hosting my new book, Diana–especially for kindly offering to kick my blog hop off. I’m excited to chat with all of your efriends!

    Liked by 1 person

  22. Sarah says:
    March 7, 2019 at 7:02 am

    How lovely to see Jacqui’s latest book being shared here too, Diana! And congratulations Jacqui! 😄

    Liked by 2 people

  23. Teri Polen says:
    March 7, 2019 at 6:35 am

    Congrats on the new release, Jacqui!

    Liked by 2 people

  24. Marcia says:
    March 7, 2019 at 5:39 am

    Oh, this sounds very good, and I LOVE the cover! Thanks for hosting, Diana, and congratulations on your new release, Jacquie! Best of luck! 🙂

    Liked by 3 people

  25. Jill Weatherholt says:
    March 7, 2019 at 5:18 am

    Thanks for hosting Jacqui, Diana! I’m looking forward to reading her latest. Congratulations, Jacqui!

    Liked by 2 people

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