On July 15, 2026 my Backerkit campaign to fund The Moonhound will go live! It's a cozy fantasy novella suitable for all ages, with spectacular cover art by Canadian artist Logan Volkmann.
Right now, there's a teaser page up that tells you more about the book. If you want to get notified when the campaign goes live, please go click the button that says "Follow." Above that it says "Can we count on your pledge for our upcoming project?" but you can disregard that--you don't necessarily have to pledge if you follow the campaign. Basically I need a minimum of 30 followers for Backerkit to okay my campaign to go live, so please go click that button so I can stop stressing about it.
Here's an excerpt from the book, in which our hero, the rabbit Alan, meets Zeke the possum for the first time.
EXCERPT from The Moonhound starts here:
Everett Fletcher didn’t live very far out of town after all, although if Alan hadn’t had Sarah’s map, he would have missed the overgrown driveway that branched off the main road. It curved downhill through the trees and ended at a cabin inside a neatly-built wooden fence.
Alan knew better than to knock on the front door. He let himself through the gate, latching it carefully behind him, and looked around the yard. Some chickens scratched through the weeds nearby and a mule was picking at some hay, only turning one ear in Alan’s direction as though to acknowledge his presence.
Alan turned his own ears, listening for any hints to Everett’s whereabouts. A solid thunk came from behind the cabin, making Alan jump.
He walked around the cabin. “Hello?”
The back yard was cleared of trees and stacked with three long rows of firewood—more than one household could use in years. A brown dog with white markings, wearing only a pair of trousers tied with string in place of a belt, was rolling a section of tree trunk from a wagon to a flat section of the yard. Alan noticed an axe leaning against the back of the cabin, lots of wood chips and splinters, and the dog’s bulging muscles.
“Sorry to bother you,” Alan said. He sounded like a big-city banker, not someone who talked to mountain lumberjacks. “Sarah Boone said you’re the one to ask about firewood.”
The dog had so far ignored Alan, although the rabbit was sure he knew he was there. At Sarah’s name he straightened. “That so?”
“Yes. I just moved into the old Cox house.” Alan fought the urge to apologize for buying it instead of letting the nephew inherit it.
Everett scratched his speckled belly. “How much you need?”
“I doubt my shed would hold more than half a rick.”
“You want it delivered?”
“Please.”
“Two-fifty, then.”
Alan fumbled the coins from his pocket and handed them to Everett. He wasn’t used to dogs, certainly not ones that could probably pick him up with one paw and throw him over the cabin.
“I’ll deliver tomorrer sometime.”
“Perfect, thanks.” Alan hurried away with relief.
He returned to the road and considered going home. He still wanted to visit the artist rabbit. But now that he had successfully navigated an awkward task, he felt like exploring. He turned to the left instead of right, and strode down the road away from town.
He would only go a short distance, he decided, and wouldn’t take any turns. He didn’t want to get lost.
The road meandered prettily, passing the occasional house. He said hello to a weasel fishing at a pond, admired the budding flowers bordering someone’s fence, and startled a deer with two dappled fawns. They ran a short distance away into the trees, and then the doe looked back to watch him as he passed.
“I won’t bother you,” Alan said, as though the deer could understand him.
The road began to climb its way out of the valley. The sky was a brilliant blue with puffy clouds, the trees were pale green with new leaves, and glimpses of the mountains were visible through the treetops.
Alan felt peace return to his soul. This was what he had hoped to find in Wakerobin Hollow. He puffed his way up the hill, happy with the exercise, the solitude, the rustic beauty all around. The trail flattened for a short distance and he was able to catch his breath. Who cared if some people didn’t want him in town? They didn’t know him yet. He would fit in soon enough.
He was debating turning back or continuing to the top of the ridge when he heard crashing in the trees.
He glanced up, expecting another deer. Instead, a possum leaped from a low branch directly at him, teeth bared.
