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."

Here's another, longer excerpt from early in the book.

EXCERPT starts here:

Somehow, Alan not only agreed to join Zeke that night to spy on themoonhounds, he also agreed to bring snacks. Otto’s boy haddelivered the rest of his groceries the previous day, so Alan spentthe afternoon baking.

He made bread with his grandmother’s recipe, proofing the yeastwith local honey. The honey tasted of mountain wildflowers and madehim think of the lazy drone of bees on a hot afternoon. It was awelcome reminder that the rain, and the clammy chill it brought,wouldn’t last forever.

Indeed, by the time the dough was ready to go in the oven, the rainwas barely a drizzle and pieces of blue sky were visible through theclouds. Alan’s spirits rose like yeast dough.

He was rolling out pastry for a vegetable pie when someone rapped onthe door. “Come in!” he called.

He heard the latch raise and Sarah said, “Hello? It smells good inhere.”

“I’m in the kitchen.” Alan looked over his shoulder and smiledat Sarah. She wore a blue shawl over her flower-printed dress, andtook the shawl off as she entered the room.

“You’ve been busy,” she said. “I brought you some snow peasfrom my garden. Do you like them?”

“Love them, thanks! Have a seat; I’ll put the kettle on.”

Alan checked on the bread and decided it was done, so for the nextfew minutes he was occupied with getting it out of the oven andgetting the pie ready to go in. Sarah made tea for them while he wasbusy.

Finally he collapsed onto the chair across from Sarah and acceptedthe cup she poured him. His paws were floury, as was the apron Sarahhad given him. “Why is cooking so exhausting?” he said.

Sarah’s whiskers twitched as she smiled into her own cup. “Atleast you don’t have a passel of kits ready to gobble up the breadas fast as you can bake it.”

“We’ll taste it once it’s had a chance to cool,” Alan said.“Have a slice of applesauce bread. Margaret brought it overyesterday and there’s a lot left.”

“She did, did she?” Sarah sounded disapproving. Alan cut themeach a thick slice and set Sarah’s in front of her along with afork. She took a bite and said, “Well, damn it, it’s good. Ican’t fault her on her cooking.”

“Why don’t you like her?”

“I like her just fine,” Sarah snapped. “I saw you walk by inthe rain earlier. Out exploring?”

“Yes, I was looking for the statue but couldn’t find the oldschool at first.” Alan suspected the cat wouldn’t approve ofZeke, so he left him out of his account.

“I’m pretty sure that school burned down before my grandmother’stime,” Sarah said. “I heard tell it was struck by lightning onesummer night. The statue’s supposed to be haunted by one of thefolks who lived here in the olden days.”

Alan shuddered. “When was that?”

“No one knows. A thousand years ago, maybe, although my husbandthought it wasn’t that old, just weathered from all the rain. Idon’t know that I agree with that. There’s marble headstones inthe graveyard that’re three hunnert years old and you can stillread them. The slate ones are all smoothed out.”

Alan sipped his tea, wondering if he dared ask Sarah about themoonhounds. She was perceptive and he didn’t want her to suspect hewas up to something—not to mention that it might make her feel badabout her husband’s death. He decided to approach the topicobliquely and said, “What other folk live outside of town, and why?Someone mentioned bears.”

“Bears and wolves,” Sarah said. “And the moonhounds, of course.They all keep to themselves, the bears with the bears, the wolveswith the wolves.” She set her cup down and Alan refilled it fromthe teapot. “You don’t have to worry about the wolves if you runinto one; they’re polite and sometimes come to town to trade gamefor flour or corn. They don’t like coyotes, mind, but the onlycoyote here in the holler is old Charlie and no one hardly ever seeshim. He has a shack down by the river.”

“And the bears?” Alan asked.

Sarah gave a little shrug. “Can’t really say, to be honest. Theonly time I met a bear was when my oldest was just a young’un. Wewere picking blackberries up on Sharp Mountain when we met a beardoing the same with her own cub. I grabbed my Jim and apologized fortaking their berries—not that anyone owns wild-growingplants, mind. I’m just not inclined to argue with someone who hasclaws longer than my entire paw. We high-tailed it out of there, Ican tell you, and I didn’t dare go back for a few years.”

“But she didn’t chase you, right?”

“No, just ignored us, but other folks haven’t been so lucky.”Sarah looked at Alan and said quickly, “Don’t worry, there’snever once been a bear in the holler. They like the wild places andthe mountaintops, and if they’re going to roam far they do it atnight. You’ll probably never meet one.”