ANTEATER is here!

My new novel, Anteater, is now available on Amazon! To get your copy, click this link.

Millions of years in the future, the humans are gone and several animal species have evolved, some more than others. In this society technologically asymmetric to our own, body armor is highly advanced, but weapons are primitive and useless, and as such, skilled hand-to-hand fighters are a nation’s first and last line of defense.

Anteater siblings Jess and Ray are still young, but the Fox Nation has already entrusted them as warriors. Their quest to investigate the warlike wolves to the south sounds simple enough at first, but the wolves prove to be more than the unintelligent savages of childhood storybooks, and an old enemy lurks within their ranks. Meanwhile, the newly initiated priest Sky travels the land to rejoin her fellow monkeys. She spent her entire life working to enter the priesthood, but the real test comes after after her initiation–such is the way of the gods.

For a sample chapter, click here.

The Salamander Boy

The morning sun flickered across the forest floor as the treetops danced in the breeze. A small river trickled in the clearing and the call of a wild beast sounded in the distance. Just beyond the brook stood the hollow trunk of an old oak, and in its shadow sat the Salamander Boy.

Resting against the mossy surface of the ancient bark, the Salamander Boy ate his bowl of stew. As soon as he had finished, he washed the clay dish in the stream, packed his bag, and smothered the embers of his campfire. After leaving an offering to the Forest Nymph, the Salamander Boy left the clearing and continued on his way.

The woods were alive with all the sights and sounds of spring, yet something felt impure. He came upon a fallen tree; green leaves still covered its mangled branches.

“It is always good to see you in this time of need,” said a voice from above.

The Salamander Boy looked up to see a sparrow perched on a neighboring tree.

“Friend Sparrow, is that you?”

“It is indeed,” said the bird. “We all hoped you would leave your fields of corn once you learned of our plight. I see word travels fast.”

“You know of the one I seek?”

“You seek to slay the Bat Demon.”

The Salamander boy nodded and turned to the fallen tree. “This is his work.”

“Yes, neither lightning nor wind broke this trunk,” said the sparrow. “You can see the slash marks through the wood. I reason he was sharpening his claws for his next kill.”

“Have the others seen anything?”

“The birds of the sky see all,” said the sparrow. “A small village lies half a day’s walk to the east. You will find him there.”

“Many thanks,” said the Salamander Boy. “Now I must leave before it is too late.”

“Go,” said the bird, “and remember that you do not face him alone. When the time is right, call upon us, and we will aid you.”

The sparrow fluttered away and the Salamander Boy turned to the east and continued on his march.

He made his way, staying to the clearings and looking to the sun to guide him. A winding creek ran west to east, providing him with fresh water whenever he became thirsty.

Soon the sun had risen high in the sky. The Salamander Boy climbed over a boulder to see a pillar of smoke over the next hill.

“The village campfire still burns,” he said to himself. “This is a good sign.”

As he approached the town, a few stumps appeared among the trees. The cuts were clean, the work of villagers’ axes, not the claws of the Bat Demon.

A tiny face poked out from behind one of the stumps and stared at the Salamander Boy. Without a word, the child turned around and ran back in the direction of the village. When the Salamander Boy arrived in town, he saw the small child again, now clinging to a woman’s leg and pointing at him.

The woman brought the Salamander Boy into one of the wooden shacks. The room was dark; the only light came from a fire on the far wall.

“Go and sit by the hearth,” she said. “The medicine woman is gathering herbs, but she will return soon. She will bring you food and water.”

The Salamander Boy bowed and walked over to the warm glow across the room. Someone else was already by the fire. A young man wrapped in blankets lay on a mat in front of the crackling flames. His eyes were shut, his breathing was heavy, and sweat covered his trembling forehead.

“You’ve seen this before.”

The Salamander Boy turned around to see an old woman holding a plate of bread and a steaming cup.

“You must be the medicine woman,” he said. “I am…”

“I know who you are.” She extended the bread to him. “Eat.”

The Salamander Boy tore off a piece and ate. She extended the cup.

“Drink.”

He took a gulp from the cup and let the tea warm his stomach.

“Thank you,” he said. “How do you know who I am?”

The medicine woman smiled and grabbed a bowl of herbs from the table. “I’ve seen you before.” She began to crush the herbs with a stone.

“But we’ve never met.”

“I didn’t say we had. I’ve had visions in the night, visions of the Salamander Boy who would pass through my town. You’ve slain many monsters, but none as powerful as the one you seek now.”

“The Bat Demon.”

“He is close by,” said the medicine woman. “Before you lies his last victim. He was out gathering firewood yesterday when the demon attacked. He escaped with only a scratch, but then the sickness came upon him.”

The Salamander Boy reached into his bag and pulled out some roots. “I gathered these in the forest. Perhaps they will help.”

“They will do nothing,” said the medicine woman. “This is no ordinary malady. He is under the demon’s spell.”

“I don’t understand,” said the Salamander Boy. “You grind herbs as we speak. Are you not treating him with those?”

“These are no ordinary herbs,” said the medicine woman. “I picked them from the spirit well at the center of the forest. They grow only in the holiest of places.”

The Salamander Boy watched as she ground the plants into a thick paste. She then lifted the wounded man’s blanket to reveal a purple slash across his belly. As she rubbed the remedy over the wound, the man’s rapid breathing began to slow. She turned back to the Salamander Boy.

“How do you intend to fight him?” she asked. “No spear can pierce the hide of an immortal demon.”

“I don’t carry a spear.”

“Then how? Will you strangle him with your bare hands?”

“No,” said the Salamander Boy. “I will draw him into the sunlight.”

“He may be from the underworld, but the sun won’t kill him.”

“There are other dangers from above.”

“It won’t be enough.”

The Salamander Boy had no reply.

“You’re scared,” said the medicine woman.

“No,” said the Salamander Boy. “I’m not.”

“It’s all right,” said the medicine woman. “The one you seek is so evil that even the dark gods of the underworld cast him out. I’d doubt your sanity if you weren’t afraid. Here, I have something for you.”

She reached into her pouch and pulled out a tiny seed.

“What is it?” asked the Salamander Boy.

“It is a magic seed from the Forest Nymph,” she said. “Plant it in the Bat Demon’s stomach and you will ensnare him in the trunk of a mighty tree. Not even he can escape this magic.”

The Salamander Boy took the seed and examined it.

“You say the Forest Nymph gave you this?”

“Yes,” said the medicine woman. “But I warn you the Bat Demon will not ingest it willingly.”

“Oh, I think he will.” The Salamander Boy tucked the seed away.

“So you have a plan. Good.” She turned to the door. “The Bat Demon is strongest at night. You should leave now, while you still have daylight.”

“Where will I find him?”

“This man was just north of our village when the demon attacked,” she said. “I sense he still lurks there.”

He nodded and started towards the door, but then turned once more to the medicine woman.

“By nightfall, the Bat Demon will plague you no more.”

With that, the Salamander Boy opened the door and left the shack.

A small group of villagers had gathered outside the hut. When the Salamander Boy walked out the door, the people turned aside and pretended to be going about their daily tasks. He paid them no mind and continued down the road and into the woods.

Once he had made it out of sight of the village, the Salamander Boy stopped and listened. The old forest seemed quieter than it had that morning. Even the insects dared not buzz.

The twisted trunk of another fallen tree caught his eye. He moved closer to see two familiar slash marks severing the heartwood. Venom still dripped from the splinters; these cuts were fresh.

The Salamander Boy felt the chill of a cold breeze. He turned around to see leaves falling from the trees above.

“Bat Demon, I know you’re here,” he said. “Come out and face me, unless you’re a coward,”

A dark figure stepped out from behind a tree, and the Salamander Boy found himself face to face with the Bat Demon.

“It’s hard to mistake the scent of the Salamander Boy,” he said. “What are you doing in my forest?”

“This is not your forest,” said the Salamander Boy. “Your place is back in the underworld.”

“They banished me,” said the Bat Demon. “This is my domain now and I’ve come to like it here. I’ve grown used to the sun, and prey is abundant. Still, I’m getting tired of feasting on wild deer and human children. Perhaps salamander will taste better.”

“You won’t have the pleasure of feasting on my flesh,” said the Salamander Boy. “When the day is done, I will stand the victor.”

The Bat Demon laughed. “So confident for someone so small. You can’t kill me. No one can.”

“There are other ways to make you go away.”

“I think not. You’re no threat to me.”

“Is that so? Then may I ask why you’ve been running from me?”

The Bat Demon snarled. “What are you talking about?”

“You say you can smell me,” said the Salamander Boy. “You knew I was coming, but you never stood and fought. I had to chase you down.”

“Lies,” said the Bat Demon. “I’ve slain armies. The movements of a Salamander Boy are of no concern to me.”

“You’ve been running,” said the Salamander Boy. “You know that I bring your doom.”

“Enough!”

The Bat Demon lunged at him, but the Salamander Boy ducked out of the way. The beast swung at him again and again, but each time the Salamander Boy jumped clear of his slashes.

As the Bat Demon missed yet again, his claws sunk into the trunk of a tree. Seeing his chance, the Salamander Boy turned and ran. The Bat Demon yanked his hand free of the trunk and turned to see his foe disappearing between the trees.

“So now you run,” he said. “And you call me a coward.”

The Bat Demon sprinted after him, but the Salamander Boy had a head start. He leapt over bushes and ducked under massive roots. He ran until he saw a beam of sunlight breaking through the treetops above.

The Salamander Boy stopped in the clearing and turned to face his enemy. A moment later, the Bat Demon swept in and knocked him to the ground. The Salamander Boy could smell the venom dripping from his fangs.

“Pitiful,” said the Bat Demon. “You didn’t even fight back.”

A piercing screech rang from the clouds. The Salamander Boy looked up to see his friends, the birds of the sky, descend from above. Hearing their calls, the Bat Demon turned his head, but he was too late.

Ravens, hawks, and eagles dove at the demon, covering him and digging their talons into his flesh. He snarled and flailed, but the birds pushed him over, held his arms, and pinned him to the ground. The Salamander Boy stood up.

“Hold his mouth open!” he said. “I have something for him.”

A great harpy eagle reached his talons between the demon’s fangs and propped open his mouth.

“Now, Salamander Boy!” said the eagle. “I can’t hold him for long.”

Holding the seed in his hand, the Salamander Boy stepped up to the struggling demon. With a mighty shove, he thrust his hand down the Bat Demon’s throat and let go of the kernel.

The Salamander Boy had barely pulled his arm free when the harpy eagle let go and the Bat Demon’s jaw clamped shut. He swung his arms, breaking free of the talons and flinging the birds back into the air. The Bat Demon stood up, and with a mighty cough, retched up the seed.

“What is this?” he studied the tiny seed. “I’ve seen seeds like this before. I should have known the Forest Nymph was behind this.”

“Stop!” said the Salamander Boy.

The Bat Demon crushed the seed in his claws and looked up at him. “I’ll admit you are clever, but you won’t escape this time.”

Before the Salamander Boy could move, the Bat Demon shot at him and sank his teeth into his tail. The demon yanked, but the Salamander Boy broke free, leaving his tail behind in the monster’s jaws. As the Bat Demon gobbled it up, the Salamander Boy scrambled to a safe distance.

“That was an unusual trick,” said the Bat Demon.

“It will grow back,” said the Salamander Boy.

“Not if I eat you first,” said the Bat Demon. “I must say your tail was delicious. You said I wouldn’t have the pleasure of feasting on your flesh.”

“I was wrong.”

The Bat Demon started forward again, but then stopped. He looked down and clutched his chest.

The Salamander Boy smirked. “Is something wrong?”

The Bat Demon put his hand up to his face to feel a tiny stem and leaf protruding from his mouth. “What’s happening to me?”

“The first seed I gave you was a fake,” said the Salamander Boy. “The real seed from the Forest Nymph I tucked beneath the skin of my tail. It now rests in your stomach.”

The Bat Demon began retching again, but the vines kept growing from his mouth and twisting around his body.

“It’s too late for that,” said the Salamander Boy. “The seed has already taken root.”

The demon tried to lunge forward for a final swipe at the Salamander Boy, but thick wooden branches ensnared his arms and held him back. The plant grew larger than the demon himself, planting roots into the soil and growing leafy offshoots toward the heavens.

Soon, all that the Salamander Boy could see of the demon were his glistening red eyes. The trunk grew thick and strong as it constricted the monster.

“No cage can hold me forever,” said the Bat Demon. “I will return.”

“And I will be there to stop you again,” said the Salamander Boy, “if and when that day comes.”

The tree now towered above all the rest. As it reached its final height, the demon disappeared from sight. Amidst the newfound silence, the Salamander Boy looked up to see a sparrow perched on a branch of the new oak.

“Thank you for your help.”

“I am happy to aid, as always,” said the sparrow. “The villagers must be wondering what became of you.”

“Then go to them,” said the Salamander Boy. “Tell the people they are now safe to roam about the forest.”

“And what of you?” asked the Sparrow. “Where will you go?”

“I must return home,” said the Salamander Boy. “It is time I tilled my fields of corn.”

Oil and Water

There is a distant land to the west where the sea is made of oil instead of water. It isn’t just the ocean, but the lakes and the rivers and even the rain from above. Here the strange inhabitants are 70% lipid, and on hot days, they take bottles of canola oil with them when they exercise to ensure they stay hydrocarbonated. Children laugh as they slip down oil slides, making deep, golden splashes at the bottom.

Water, on the other hand, is a valuable commodity here. The wealthy pay handsomely to sprinkle drops of it on their salads. The merchant vessels (which are built lighter than ours, lest they sink into the oily abyss) carry jugs of water from port to port so they may sell them to the highest bidder. If one ever breaks and pours into the sea, the denser liquid will immediately sink beneath the waves, never to be seen again.

Sample Chapter from Anteater

The black had become a dark blue, the dark blue had become a pale blue, and the pale blue had become a blur of reds, pinks, oranges, and yellows. At any one instant, the sky was static, unchanging, just a picture frozen in the heavens above. Yet the sky did change, although no observer could perceive this change, even if she were to do nothing but watch the sky for hours.

And Sky had done just that.

Sunrise grew nearer, and Sky lay awake in her bed, watching the daybreak through her window. Her memory told her that she hadn’t fallen asleep all night, but it hadn’t felt like ten hours. It felt like it had been four, or maybe five. Perhaps she had drifted in and out of a shallow slumber, with nothing to distinguish the waking moments.

But now she had some continuity. Now she had the sunrise. Sky held still, anticipating the moment the sun would slip over the horizon. In that instant, and only in that one instant, Sky would perceive the change. The sun only moved the tiniest bit at a time, but only the tiniest bit would be necessary for the sun to flood the world with its overpowering light.

She waited a minute, and then another, but still there was no sun. The distant glow grew brighter, but did not reveal its source. More important matters began to nag at her mind. Master Nyah would arrive soon, and Sky would do well to be ready.

She pulled the blankets aside and sat up. She didn’t feel tired, but the light from the window suddenly got to her and she had to turn away. She felt a chill and wrapped her arms around her sides. It would be warmer soon.

Sky made her way over to the refrigerator. She knew she should eat breakfast and she had some bananas leftover from the day before, yet all she did was stare at the little white door handle. Breakfast wasn’t happening.

She eyed the razor on the counter. Sky had forgotten to put it away the night before, but perhaps she could do with a morning touch up. She grabbed the blade and went over to the mirror, scanning herself for any unwanted stubble. She ran her other hand down her side and then over her legs, but she had done a top-notch job the other night. Other than the ceremonial patch left atop the crown of her head, there was not a hair to be found.

There was nothing to do but wait. Sky sat back down on the bed, twitching her tail as she did. After a moment, she reached back and took hold of her tail, bringing it around for a closer look. She flipped it back and forth within her fingers, almost chuckling at how silly it looked. She thought back to when she was a child, to when she would stage puppet shows for her family and use her tail to operate the third puppet.

Still holding her tail, Sky turned back to the window. There was still no sun, yet it was even brighter than before. It could be any moment now. She would witness the change take place.

There was a harsh knock on the door and Sky immediately let go of her tail and stood up. She walked over and opened it to find the face of an elderly monkey staring back at her. Sky bowed.

“Good morning, Master Nyah.”

“Good morning, Sky,” said Master Nyah. “It is time.”

Sky nodded. “I’m ready.”

“Leave everything behind,” said her master. “You will not need your belt or your thermals.”

“I understand.”

As Master Nyah turned around to leave, Sky noticed a thin strip of yellow across the walls and doorframe. She stole a glance back to see that the sun had risen; she had missed it. There was nothing to do now but follow her master.

Nyah awaited her by the front door of the lodge.

“Hurry along now,” she said. “If you arrive too late, the initiator will not proceed with the ceremony.”

“We’re not going to be late, are we?”

“Never has a pupil of mine been late to her own initiation. I don’t intend to sully that record.”

Nyah stepped out the door and Sky followed. It was even chillier outside, but the rays of the sun felt warm, hot even, against her bare skin. The morning had the makings of another beautiful day in Bear country. The priests back home had told her stories of the endless rains of the big island, but Sky’s own visit had been everything to the contrary. All she could see were picturesque grassy hills spotted with bushes and trees. The only clouds were the ones far off on the horizon.

As they hiked through the fields, Sky found herself staring at the tattoo on her master’s right hip. It was a simple design, three lines forming an upward pointing arrow.

“Sky, we need not walk in silence,” said Nyah. “You can talk to me.”

“Forgive me, I’m just a little—” Sky paused. She did not want to say she was nervous. “Preoccupied.”

“Understandable,” said Nyah. “Would it ease your mind to discuss the ritual?”

“We’ve already been over it a dozen times. Is there anything you haven’t already told me?”

Nyah shook her head. “Your part will be quite simple. It’s the initiator who will do all of the talking, and he’ll tell you what to do. Just let him perform the ceremony, and you will walk away with your mark of honor.”

“And what if he deems me unworthy?” asked Sky. “What if he gives me a mark of disgrace? It will all be for nothing. The initiator will see into my spirit. If there is any fear in me, he will know.”

“Sky, you’ve completed your training. You’ve done the difficult part. All that remains now is to focus on what you have learned.”

“I will.”

“Listen to your old master,” said Nyah. “I have no doubt that you will pass this final trial. You are one of the finest students I have ever had the privilege to instruct.”

“And what about Soy?”

“Don’t worry about Soy. This is about you, only you.”

The unmistakable array of stones took form in the distance; the Ancient Circle had come into view.

Master Nyah stopped. “This is as far as I go.”

Sky nodded. “I’m ready.”

“It will go just as we practiced,” said Nyah. “Remember that you’re allowed to talk to the initiator. Ask him a question if you must, though I wouldn’t advise interrupting him.”

“I know,” said Sky. “I think I’d prefer to stay quiet.”

Nyah gave her a smile and put her hand on Sky’s shoulder. “May the Celestial Monkeys watch over you, Sky. I’ll be back at the lodge when you’re finished. Don’t keep the initiator waiting.”

With that, they parted ways. Sky continued forward with a moderate pace, not too slow as to make her late, yet not too quick as to begin the ritual earlier than she had to. She did this even as she knew it wouldn’t make a difference; the ceremony would begin when the shadows reached their mark, whether she was early or right on time.

She couldn’t see the initiator yet, but she could see a cloud of smoke rising from the center. There was a flicker of orange between the pillars, a flicker that disappeared and reappeared as though a distant someone had walked by.

In spite of herself, Sky’s mind turned back to the ritual and the verdict. Anxious thoughts exploded in her mind before she had a chance to snuff them out. Why would anyone base such a crucial decision on whether or not one felt fear? If the Gods really had contrived this ceremony, the Gods had a sadistic sense of humor. No, she told herself, the Gods were not sadistic. They were fair and kind, mysterious, but fair and kind.

It wasn’t the pain she feared. She could handle pain. They had trained her to handle pain. What really bore into her head was the thought of losing everything, the thought of never becoming a priest, all because of some spark of fear she couldn’t extinguish. The thought of that fear undermining her would itself become a fear, until that spark was no longer a spark but a blaze, a self-fulfilling prophecy that would brand her with a mark of disgrace. Who thought of such trials?

Sky stopped and took a deep breath, fighting to come back to her training. She closed her eyes and exhaled, clearing her mind and calming her heart. The corrosive thoughts quieted until all she heard was the breeze. Her focus was her own. The slip up had never happened. Sky opened her eyes and continued.

One step after the other, she made her way to the Ancient Circle. A blazing bonfire roared in the center, coughing smoke up into the heavens. Beside the fire stood a wooden stump with a sharpened saber resting against its side. Beside the stump stood the initiator.

The initiator was older priest, not nearly as old as Master Nyah, but at least old enough to be Sky’s father. He was one of the biggest monkeys Sky had ever seen, with an enormous belly hanging over his feet and thick, fat arms at his sides. The initiator looked at Sky but said nothing. He was waiting, thought Sky, waiting for the sun to align itself between the stone pillars.

And then he spoke.

“Not even stone is eternal.” His deep voice boomed in Sky’s ears. “Not even stone can withstand the trials of time without crumbling to dust and floating away with the breeze. Yet the Ancient Circle lives on forever. Its primordial pillars have endured all, be it wind or rain or the fires of mortals. The Celestial Monkeys built the Ancient Circle, and in doing so, they blessed it with eternity. Now the Ancient Circle beckons you, Sky, just as the Celestial Monkeys beckon you to enter their service.”

He picked up the saber with one hand, and with the other, a stick from the fire. He turned back to Sky.

“Step into the circle.”

Sky did as she was told. She now stood face to face with the initiator, close enough to the bonfire to feel its searing heat.

“The Celestial Monkeys made the world as it is now,” said the initiator. “They gave the gift of life to many, the gift of wits to some, but only to us did they give the gift of their likeness. A blessed few advance further still to take the image of the Celestial Monkeys, and pledge to serve them for life. That is why you are here.”

The priest pressed the flat end of the saber on Sky’s shoulder and ran it down the side of her arm.

“Though we shave our hair, we cannot stop our hair from growing back. Though we devote our lives to serving the Celestial Monkeys, we cannot stop ourselves from yearning for earthly joys. The Celestial Monkeys do not ask us to stop doing either of these things. They only ask that we continue doing that which is within our power.”

The initiator turned to the cutting block.

“However, the Celestial Monkeys do ask that we leave behind a symbol of our worldly attachment. We our born with our tails, and those of us who choose to enter a life of service must separate from them. Our tails do not grow back, as this is a sacrifice that cannot be undone.”

He turned back to Sky.

“Sky, you have trained in our sacred martial arts. You have studied the history of our people and the teachings of the Celestial Monkeys. Your master has deemed you worthy of the priesthood. All that remains is this final sacrifice.”

He paused for a moment, the wrinkles on his face shimmering in the raw heat of the blaze.

“As you undertake this sacrifice, I will judge your spirit and bestow upon you my mark. Be it a mark of honor, you will become a servant of the Celestial Monkeys, and a warrior, teacher, and leader of your people. Be it a mark of disgrace, you will become a servant of the Celestial Monkeys, and nothing more. Whichever mark it be, to run from your vow carries the punishment of death. Do you, Sky, offer this final sacrifice and swear to serve the Celestial Monkeys in whichever way they see fit?”

“I swear.”

The initiator pointed the saber at the wooden block.

“Proceed.”

As Sky turned her back to the block and laid her tail across it, she heard a faint rumbling sound. At first she figured it was only the bonfire, but then she heard it again, louder, deep and echoing. She looked up to see that the clouds in the distance had grown darker, and flashes of white danced between the shadows. The initiator looked up as well.

“Thunder on the morning of an initiation,” he said. “A bad omen.”

“An omen?” asked Sky. “What do you mean? Can we still go on?”

“You have already sworn your oath,” said the initiator. “We cannot stop the ceremony now.”

He turned back to the wooden block and slowly raised the saber. In that moment, the thoughts broke back into Sky’s mind. What did he mean about it being a bad omen? Why would he even say anything if it were already too late to turn back? How could he expect her to be calm about the trial after knowing something like this?

Sky closed her eyes and took another deep breath. The thoughts were gone, locked somewhere far away from her conscious mind. As she opened her eyes again, the blade fell.

She heard the chop, but felt nothing. Then the pain hit her, a searing, throbbing, unfathomable pain, far worse than she had foreseen. She shut the pain out, locking it away with the anxious thoughts in the back of her head. The pain hammered behind the locked door, begging to be let back it, but Sky wouldn’t let it. The worst was over, she told herself.

The initiator applied the torch to the wound, cauterizing the stump and twisting Sky’s world with a whole new kind of pain. This was not another clean, precise pain, but one where each cell screamed in agony as it turned to charcoal. The worst was over, she told herself, the worst was over. No, the worst was not over. Sky had never feared the pain. Sky feared the judgment, and that was yet to come. The unwanted thoughts had returned.

Sky tried to take another deep breath, but it turned out shaky. The trauma had weakened her, and weakened her ability to control her focus. Her grip on her mind loosened, and one by one the thoughts slipped back through the door. She was shaking visibly by the time the initiator stepped around to look at her.

The initiator stared into her eyes, and somehow, the shaking was gone. The thoughts were gone. The pain was still there, but it didn’t bother her. By some miracle, her mind filled with complete clarity.

“Turn around.”

Again, Sky did as she was told. The initiator held the saber to her hip and whipped it up and down. The motions had been so swift that it took Sky a moment to realize that the priest had made three slashes in her skin, although she could not say whether or not they converged to form an arrow. Finally, the initiator extinguished his flaming branch, crumbled a chunk of charcoal from the tip, and rubbed it over the cuts.

“It is finished.”

Sky turned to him once more.

“I have seen your truth and given you your mark,” said the initiator. “May the blessings of the Celestial Monkeys be upon you, Friar Sky. You are the newest priest of our sacred order.”

Welcome!

I’m so excited to be up and running on my website! From time to time I will post updates and information, previews from upcoming stories, and maybe even short fiction. Thank you for visiting my site, and I hope you find something that speaks to you.