The hook at end of Chapter One of my WIP, Timekeepers--I modified it slightly to give it better context:
Haakon couldn't help anyone here in 1066. He had a more urgent mission: reporting back to the future. The mounted Viking's helmet had gleamed impossibly black and shiny in the flames. He'd recognized the words and sigil emblazoned in gold above the man's face. How could he not? It had read Harley Davidson Motorcycles. Someone was mucking with Time.
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