October 2, 2015

M9B Friday Reveal: Chapter Two Reveal for Nameless by Jennifer Jenkins with Giveaway #M9BFridayReveals



Welcome to this week’s M9B Friday Reveal!

This week, we are revealing CHAPTER TWO of

Nameless by Jennifer Jenkins

presented byMonth9Books!

NAMELESS is in development for film by Benderspink! That’s the same company who optioned Victoria Aveyard’s Red Queen and produced the

Jennifer is also one of the co-founders of Teen Author Boot Camp, and works with amazing authors like James Dashner and Brandon Sanderson to help teens master the craft or writing.

New York Times bestselling author Jessica Day George read NAMELESS and loved it!:

“Jenkins brings edge-of-your-seat adventure to this intriguing new world. I can’t wait to read more!”

Be sure to enter the giveaway found at the end of the post!



Four clans have been at war for centuries: the Kodiak, the Raven, the Wolf and the Ram. Through brutal war tactics, the Ram have dominated the region, inflicting death and destruction on their neighbors.

Seventeen-year-old Zo is a Wolf and a Healer who volunteers to infiltrate the Ram as a spy on behalf of the allied clans. She offers herself as a Ram slave, joining the people who are called the “nameless.” Hers is a suicide mission – Zo’s despair after losing her parents in a Ram raid has left her seeking both revenge and an end to her own misery. But after her younger sister follows her into Rams Gate, Zo must find a way to survive her dangerous mission and keep her sister safe.

What she doesn’t expect to find is the friendship of a young Ram whose life she saves, the confusing feelings she develops for a Ram soldier, and an underground nameless insurrection. Zo learns that revenge, loyalty and love are more complicated than she ever imagined in the first installment of this two-book series.

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You can read CHAPTER ONE here!


Chapter 2


The cold air traveling over Zo’s skin smelled strangely

mineral. She walked blindfolded with Tess in her arms,

and the tip of a spear at her back. She memorized the turns as

they prodded her forward, knowing it would do little to help if

she couldn’t pass whatever trial the Ram leader had in store.

The path sloped down and the moist air grew colder. Her foot

caught on a rock and Zo fell to her knees, sending Tess flying

into the darkness. Hands grabbed Zo’s collar and hoisted her

back to her feet.


“Carry the small one,” the leader ordered.


“Zo?” Tess’ voice cracked, weak and distant.


“I’m here,” said Zo, straining to see through the blindfold.


She didn’t want her sister to say more. Her accent might betray

them both.


The ground leveled beneath them, and a guard yanked off

the blindfold, taking a chunk of Zo’s dark hair with it. She

didn’t cry out.


They couldn’t hurt her.


She looked at the limp form of her sister in the arms of a

bare-chested Ram guard and crumbled at the contradiction. It

wasn’t supposed to be this way. If only Tess hadn’t followed.


If only …


Guards lined the opposite wall. Shadows from the

torchlight made the scowls on their faces all the more sinister.

Each carried a round shield at his back, a spear in hand, and a

short sword at his hip.


A redheaded boy lay on a narrow bed in the center of the

room silently weeping. His body was long, but judging from

his young face, he couldn’t have been much older than twelve

or thirteen. The deep wound just above his hip swam in dark

red blood. He whimpered while biting down on a stick.


Zo didn’t ask questions. “I need blankets!” she yelled,

as she washed her hands in a basin of scalding water. With

pulsing, red hands, she took a stack of linens from a supply

table and pressed it to the wound. The boy kicked and jostled.


“Hold him down or he’ll bleed out!” shouted Zo.


No one moved.


Two women in white robes came in through a different

tunnel entrance carrying woolen blankets. When they saw Zo,

they froze.


“Help me!” Zo snatched the blankets from their hands

and rolled the boy onto his side. Lifting his legs, she wedged

blanket rolls under his good hip. The redheaded boy cried out

in pain but Zo needed to keep the wound above his heart. She

wrapped a bandage around his trunk, keeping as much pressure

on the open wound as possible.


The boy’s skin turned alabaster from blood loss. Zo yanked

more blankets from the hands of the women, covered him up,

and rubbed warmth into his arms and legs while muttering the

words of one of her mother’s blessings. “Hold as still as you

can,” she whispered into his ear. “You’re going to be fine. I



Zo approached the intimidating line of Ram soldiers.


Each wore animal hide trimmed with fur. Thick leather straps

crisscrossed their chests housing a variety of evil-looking

weapons. “Where is my pack? It has the medicines I need.”

The men barely moved, barely blinked, with hands clasped

behind their backs like dangerous statues of unfeeling.


The bald leader shook his head. A taunting, wicked, grin

stretched across his face. Tess whimpered from one of the

dark corners of the cave. Water dripped from the jagged, rock

ceiling. The quiet symphony of sounds and silence contrasted

with Zo’s rapidly beating heart.


She swore and darted to the opposite wall where the

healers stood just as still and lifeless. “Do you have any pseudo

ginseng root?”


The aging healer looked over to the Gate Master, shook his

head, and looked down at his hands.

So they would put this boy’s life in danger just to see if she

would fail?


I shouldn’t be surprised.


Zo ran back to the steaming water and plunged four inches of

her long braid into the basin. Sweat dripped from her forehead.

She scrubbed the crusted mud from her hair and went to the

closest soldier, holding out the dark braid. “Cut it,” she said.


His gaze swept over her body before fixing on her face.


His lips curled into a crooked grin.


She hated when men looked at her that way.


“Cut it!” she yelled, eyeing the knife at his hip, wondering

if she had any chance of taking it from him without meeting a

quick death.


A young soldier to his left stepped out of rank. His long dark

hair was tucked behind his ears, his brows knit together and a

muscle in his neck leapt as he frowned. The unexpected flash

of his dagger made Zo scream. A small segment of her braid

dropped to the ground and the young soldier took his place back

in line, ignoring the disapproving scorn of the Ram leader.

Zo gasped as she snatched up the braid. She stumbled over

to the sink again to rinse the hair one final time to prevent

infection. Convinced the hair was clean, she darted back to

the boy and removed the crimson-soaked dressing from the

wound. The blood had slowed, but not enough. He’d die if this

didn’t work.


She shoved the hair into the wound and piled the excess

on top.


The boy screamed then passed out.


Zo placed her hands over the mound of hair and uttered

words of healing. The flame of her energy flickered as she

willed the blessing to take effect. Her head swayed without

permission as she reapplied a bandage.


When Zo finished, she slumped to the floor before they

carried her and Tess away.




Joshua’s dried blood tugged on Gryphon’s arm. A deathly

plaster, equal parts unforgiving and taunting. He scratched

away at the memory of the ambush, the way young Joshua’s

eyes doubled in size when the arrow entered his side. It was

Gryphon’s fault. He’d let the kid come with his mess unit

against his better judgment.


It was his fault.


Gryphon took the mountain trail home from the caves. He

attacked the climb like he would any enemy. After the first mile

his legs warmed. After the second they burned. He welcomed the

dull pain creeping through his fatigued muscles. Pain equaled

progress. With enough pain he might outpace his grief.




Gryphon sprinted the last hundred yards of the climb. The

wind picked up as he reached the summit overlooking the

ocean below. High waves crashed into the cliff wall. An arctic

spray carried on the breeze, stinging Gryphon’s eyes.


He turned and showed the ocean his back, casting his gaze

over the valley of the Ram. Wind whipped his dark brown hair

and made the metal of his weapons clink together. From this

view he could see far beyond the training grounds and housing

complexes, past the fields where hundreds of Nameless bent

over acres of dying soil. Even beyond the fabled wall of Ram’s

Gate that corralled the vast lands of his people.


He felt powerful. In control.


Not like this morning when he couldn’t slow Joshua’s



The twenty members of Gryphon’s mess unit were encouraged

to sleep in the barracks, even though many of them were

married men. Unity meant everything to a Ram mess unit.

Gryphon abided this and every other command issued by

his leaders with exactness. But tonight, the thought of facing

his brothers of war with all their questions and condolences

seemed too much.


No. Tonight he would hide behind the walls of his

inheritance like a child hides behind his mother’s skirt.

The brick-and-plaster house sat back on a five-acre plot.

It was one of the furthest family plots from the main gate and

the center of town. A red sun dipped behind the towering wall

of Ram’s Gate, casting an ominous glow around the house as

Gryphon climbed the dirt path. The solid oak door whined

with complaint as he nudged it open.


“Who’s there?” Gryphon’s mother reached the entry with

her arms and hands covered in white flour and her graying

bun sitting at an angle on her head. She studied Gryphon and

the corners of her mouth sank into the frown he’d come to

associate with his childhood.


“Wash the blood off your hands.” She retreated back to the

kitchen without another word.


Gryphon leaned his long spear and shield against the wall

and sloughed off his pack. He turned and noticed the rusted

metal shield mounted above the hearth. His cheeks colored in

shame. He looked away, but it didn’t stop the boiling wave of

anger that always came when he looked at his father’s shield.


The symbol of his family’s disgrace.


Despite Gryphon’s countless protests, his mother refused

to take it down. “It’s good to remember,” she would say.

Then she’d go out into the forest where she thought no one

could hear her and cry, rocking back and forth with her hands

wrapped firmly about her stomach. As if she’d fall apart if she

didn’t hold herself together.


No matter how hard he worked in the training field, that

shield would always hang over his head. Always.

In the kitchen, Gryphon plunged his hands into a basin of

water. As he scrubbed, the water turned the color of salmon



His mother kneaded her palm into a batch of dough with

more force than necessary. She used her forearm to push aside

a clump of silver hair that fell into her face. “How many?” she

asked with her back to him.


Gryphon couldn’t scrub his hands hard enough. “One. We

were ambushed.” His excursions used to be so boring. They used

to go weeks without running into another clan, but lately …


“Who?” His mother stood up straight, prepared to take the

news like a strong Ram woman was meant to.


“Joshua.” Gryphon felt his control slip. He chewed on his

tongue until he could steel his emotions. “Spear,” was all he

trusted himself to say.


Joshua wasn’t a member of a mess unit yet. The System

didn’t allow thirteen-year-olds to join. He had still been in

training, but he’d begged to go, and Gryphon—his mentor—

didn’t have the heart to turn him down.


“Will he live?” she asked, kneading the dough again.


“I … ” Gryphon cleared his constricting throat, thinking of

the dirty Nameless girl they’d let work on Joshua in the cave.


“I don’t think he will.”



©NicholeV Photography, LLC 2008. http://actions.nicholeV.com. This work is registered and protected under US and international copyright laws. Any violation of this copyright will be diligently prosecuted.

With her degree in History and Secondary Education, Jennifer had every intention of teaching teens to love George Washington and appreciate the finer points of ancient battle stratagem. (Seriously, she’s obsessed with ancient warfare.) However, life had different plans in store when the writing began. As a proud member of Writers Cubed, and a co-founder of the Teen Author Boot Camp, she feels blessed to be able to fulfill both her ambition to work with teens as well as write Young Adult fiction.

Jennifer has three children who are experts at naming her characters, one loving, supportive husband, a dog with little-man syndrome, and three chickens (of whom she is secretly afraid).

Visit her online at jajenkins.com

Connect with the Author: Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads | Pinterest | Instagram



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