I'm celebrating the start of a writing project -
Beneath the Neon Moon's sequel. It's been awhile since I concentrated on writing, and it feels good.
It picks up right where I left off. Have the rough draft, very short beginning:
The screen door fell shut behind them, creaking, heat and humidity swelling it so that it fell short of settling fully into place. Zach reached behind him and absently shoved it shut. Mal stopped in the middle of the living room, looking around him.
The place was at least a hundred years old, floors of hardwood, low-slung ceilings, wide doorways between rooms. Zach's old green couch, sagging in the middle, sat at one end of the room, the outdated TV on the other, with a bookshelf full to overflowing with tattered paperbacks against one wall.
Ahead of them, Jasper rushed for the kitchen, then stopped and circled back when they didn't follow, meowing impatiently. His tail curled over his back.
Mal smiled down at the cat. He towered in the low-ceilinged room. His hair was raked off his face, wet with rain, shirt clinging to his skin. He looked at Zach, his face still. Zach looked back, waiting. Mal moved closer, reached up and curled his hand around the back of Zach's neck.
Jasper meowed, his voice high in protest, like a week-old kitten.
Mal sighed. "I could just eat him," he suggested.
Zach stepped close into Mal's body, smiling when he heard Mal's breath catch. "Not funny," he said in Mal's ear. "He's pack, got it?"
Mal laughed a little. "You, me and the cat. We'll strike fear in the heart of wolves everywhere."
