Welcome, friend! The spooky season is here and I am excited to share a mystery/horror novel with you today! Foxfire by Rowan Hill is releasing October 10th. Let’s learn about Rowan and the book.
Get to know the author: Rowan Hill
Hi Rowan! Welcome to Armed with A Book. Tell me and my readers a bit about yourself!
Hi Kriti!
I’m Rowan, an Australian author who has lived a little bit of everywhere in the world (mostly Asia and Europe) but I am currently residing in America and work for a University. I consider myself a product of the 80s and often wish I had my own synth soundtrack to accompany me. In my free time, I am a hiker and lover of nature, and therefore I find myself writing ‘nature horror’ more often than not, but in general, my writing mostly revolves around flawed women who occasionally murder.
What inspired you to write this book?
Foxfire was purely a result of taking a much needed vacation to Lapland. I was standing in the middle of the Lapish forest, nothing but snow and forest for miles. No sounds, no bird chitter, or distant hum of cars, and I looked at this lane of pure snow and thinking about how I could just keep walking. Keep going until something untoward happened to me, and no one would know. It was quite an unnerving environment, but also so much magic there, with the aurora borealis, and the dog sleds, and the reindeer. Magical, but ultimately, that place wants to kill you.
Who would enjoy reading your book?
Mmmmm. Look, I am not yet in the stage of my career where I am writing deep philosophical takes on our secret lives. I’m not a therapist yet for trauma, I haven’t exercised my own. But what I do try is to have fun. I want people to close my book and say ‘dang, that was a good read’. This book was sold as a Hateful 8 x hardcore Agatha Christie x The Ritual. I wrote it so much frenzied-fire, it is a fast paced novel that will leave you wondering who is going to be murdered next. There is a cast of characters from around the world, so I am hoping everyone can connect with someone!
Do you have a favourite quote or scene in the book that you find yourself going back to?
Ohhhhh, well, yes. Tricky tricky tricky! I don’t want to give my best scenes and lines away. But here is a scene I enjoyed;
A ribbon of strong emerald light waved above the trees, running vertically and along with the path, and Tetsuya exhaled. It was clear and vivid as if paint had smeared across his eyes, scoring into his memories and past lives. Unearthly and spectral, it struck him where he stood, watching something bigger than him, grander than anyone, occur above. The clear sky was one thing, this was another. If the clear night sky and a million stars could make a man believe in life, the aurora could make a man believe in Gods.
What is something you have learned on your author journey so far?
Being an author is a marathon, not a sprint. World wide (or even small-rate) success is not going to happen on your first try, or maybe even on the seventeenth. One thing I have heard consistently however is those that stick with it will eventually find the success they desire. Its not a matter of if, but when. Also, be kind. People remember.
What’s the best piece of advice you have received related to writing?
Besides learning the four tenents of good writing (brevity, clarity, elegance, and evocativeness (those these will always be different depending who you listen to), is to simply write as yourself. Find your voice and perfect it with those four tenets! I certainly need to work on this. I’m hilarious in real life! Does it translate to my writing? Not yet!
Where can readers find you on the Internet?
On all the places! Twitter, TikTok, Instagram, Facebook, BlueSky and my website.
Foxfire
Horror and Folk Horror / Murder Mystery
In a remote Finnish resort, a group of potential investors gather to enjoy the Arctic beauty and
the mesmeric Northern lights. But many of the guests aren’t who they appear to be, and
everyone is hiding something–from the gaudy Americans to the adventurous German and
Australian couple to the quiet Yakuza and his former Geisha wife.
Owner Mattais and his skeptical daughter, Aino, have ignored family legends, dismissing
the warnings of honoring their ancient forest as silly, old-fashioned traditions. But when the
guests start to be picked off one by one, their blood soaked in the snow, the old tales don’t
seem so far-fetched anymore. A spectre haunts the forest and the survivors must decipher
who–or what–is taking revenge.
Content notes include animal death, lite domestic abuse and lite gore.
Book Excerpt from
Foxfire
Wilholm, the young driver, fair and boyishly handsome, smirked and threw another bag her way. He wore only a fleece, accustomed to the extreme cold, as opposed to herself, who’d lived in Helsinki for the last decade. Aino leaned on the porch’s post and openly watched the muscles of his bare hands flex as he laid down a long and heavy ski bag, her cheeks warming. When the last bag sat on the porch, he sauntered over, something Aino thought impossible in bulky clothing.
“You’ve been back for a month already. When are you going to let me take you out?”
“We went grocery shopping together last week.”
He raised an arm above his head and leaned on her post, grinning as he stepped up to her, and Aino’s body was all at once heavy and hollow.
“You were grocery shopping when I caught you in the cheeses like a mouse. I want a real date.”
“You live an hour away and the nearest restaurant is two,” she jested half-heartedly, and he stepped closer. His face turned serious, the smile lines from his cheeks gone, and he spoke low with a tone reminiscent of whispered secrets.
“Let me take you on the boat to the sea, maybe under the lights one night, yeah? Some wine, some music…” He leaned forward and his hot breath blew against her. He had chewed mint gum on the drive and Aino stared at his mouth, so close, flushed red from the cold. It hypnotized her for a too-long moment, and he leaned perilously close, invitingly.
Aino murmured, “That sounds like a very romantic date.”
“Oh, it will be, Aino.”
He drew down, comfortingly taller than her, those red lips parting and his minty breath mingled with hers.
“Very sexy, Wilholm.”
“Oh, very sexy, Aino.”
Aino quickly pushed his chest away and he backed down a stair. “It also sounds like a very good way to get stuck here. I told you, I don’t know if I want to stay after helping Mattias set up this damn resort.”
Wilholm retreated another step, pursing those plump red lips, squinting and studying her before turning and searching the surroundings of the lodge. Beyond the wide-open circle serving as a car U-turn, forest, wild and ancient, stretched in every direction besides the slender driveway leading to the main road a kilometer away. Wilholm’s charming smile returned. He wasn’t cross, rather amused, and wagged a cold finger at her. “You haven’t been back here since you were twelve. I promise you, you’ll fall in love with the forest again.” He arched an eyebrow, “You’ll fall in love with everything. I swear it.”
“I am STILL waiting!” A cross voice hollered in thick Meänkieli, the local dialect, from inside the recesses of the van. Aino’s gaping mouth snapped shut and she whispered,
“Who’s that?”
“I’m coming!” Wilholm called to the remaining airport passenger and then spoke low to Aino. “Some old man approached me outside the landing strip while I was waiting for the American plane. Calls himself Virtanen and says his house is another twenty minutes up the road, though I don’t know of it. Do you know if your grandfather ever sold any of his land?”
Aino scoffed. “No, he would never sell anything. To anyone. If he lives on our land, it’s not legal,” she whispered and descended the steps quietly, leaning subtly forward to sneak a look at the passenger. In the guts of the van sat a figure more beast than man. Dressed in traditional furs, a bushel of black beard, salt and pepper, covered most of his face, and his wild blue eyes whipped to the inquisitive Aino, catching her. She leaned into the van, raising a hand in greeting,
“Hello, sir! I’m–”
“I know who you are, girl!” he gruffed, his accent thick and cloying on his lips like honey lived there. “Are you like your father or your grandfather?” He asked this quickly, as if he expected an answer just as fast.
“Oh, uh, neither? I guess?”
He grunted again, a beastly retort, and readjusted the bulk of his furs tighter. “Just as well. I was sorry when he passed.” His eyes fell to his hands, bare and bony, years of hard living in the threads and wrinkles. “We were friends, of a kind.” His hands squeezed into fists and his voice hardened again.
“You make sure to stay inside at night, yes? No place for city-folk! Don’t need you and all those strangers getting lost and waking everyone up with your cries. Now tell that boy to come along now,” he commanded.
Aino stepped out of his view, her eyebrows raised at the odd demand. Wilholm passed her, nudging their shoulders together playfully as they once did as schoolmates, but then he took her naked hand and raised it to his mouth. He blew a heated breath over it and somehow it warmed her hollow belly.
“I’ll be back in a few days for your guest. Stay warm, city mouse. You may be used to snow, but the cold here bites you like teeth!” He whispered conspiratorially, snapping his jaws together playfully, and dropped her hand, closing the sliding door. “You need me, call,” he added and climbed into the driver’s seat.
The sky had darkened quickly, enough for his headlights, and Aino finally exhaled as the van left the way it came.
Wilholm was too handsome. Too charming. She could easily fall in love with him. It would be a wholesome, desperate consumption, and that would be the end of that. Aino would be stuck in the North just like her mother twenty-five years ago. Frozen in place until she melted and regained her senses. Aino left the bags on the porch and returned inside, only the trees watching her smirk at the thought of Wilhom and the courtship he was playing.
Interested?
Find Foxfire on Amazon and Goodreads.
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