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Hey, folks!

I just saw that three people subscribed to see new chapters from The Sun Long Set on SoFurry. I've got good news and I got bad news, though.

The bad news is that I'm having to take down my previously released content that's in digital format off of SoFurry so I can use Kindle Unlimited.

The good news is that I'm going to, for the next few months and especially after the sequel (that's right, the sequel's in the works already), post bonus content you can't find anywhere else.

We're talking stuff like offscreen events, Anything I wasn't willing to show in the book, snippets that help lead into the sequel, yada yada.

Here's an example of the content to come, a post-credits scene to The Sun Long Set that details the night Monroe died!

SPOILERS FOR THE SUN LONG SET INCOMING. YOU ARE WARNED.

---

The Raccoon-man Monroe Minstrin loved his religious flock. The four kids didn't know how important he was.

They met by chance, as all things are. Far off in the Oldan forest there was a clearing, connected to by destitute and unkempt gravel roads. When looking for a place for himself, Monroe found this clearing, and decided there he would place his livelihood to explore his theological prowess, teaching the Zinian and Prakoti people both the importance of Spiritism. Meanwhile, even further off, through the weeds, was an abandoned Tree-Miner shack that four teenagers lived in. There four kids experienced the greatest things debauchery could offer. They didn't want neighbors.

When Monroe began building his shack, already becoming well-known in the Spiritist community, he heard whispers every now and then in the thicket. He turned, only to hear silence, and turning away he only heard shuffling and the humming of wind through the trees. The trees, their heights boggling the mind, creaked with their song. This continued until he caught them, hiding in the dark.

He pointed them out, and cried "Hey you!"

They came into the clearing, eyeing him. Two tigers, a bear and a rabbit.

"What you want?" the boy of the tigers asked. He looked to Monroe as if he could still have been in lower-education, still going through the school system-- or getting close to wrapping it up.

"How long have you been here?" Monroe asked.

"Why are you wearing a monk garb?"

Monroe looked down, forgetting that he had worn it. He had just finished a teaching at his old home.

"Teaching the good word," he said, a lie due to their words potentially being different than his. He practiced a southern religion, but most people in the Crimson County were Legalists, a discriminatory northern religion. But what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

The group and Monroe eventually got to know each other, over the passing of a season. Soon the kids would get trackcycles, motorized treaded rides that one straddled like a horse. They parked them in Monroe's backyard, which he allowed them to, and they began forging new bonds. Richard was the rabbit boy, a shy but indecisive lad. He had white fur, long white ears, and he always kept quiet. He consoled VanMarco, a bear-boy that some would call a dredge, a word that Monroe never uttered out of respect. Jia and Li, the tiger twins, were rowdy, but seemed to have the most interest in Monroe's work.

But when they found out he wasn't Legalist was the same day the clock came into the picture.

Monroe loved antiques, and for the Prakoti New Year's eve bought a miniature clock, one that ran on handcranks and springs. He went to see a movie with his adopted family's son, his closest friend in the entire world. Then, when they came back, Monroe found someone in his living room, hiding.

It was Jia and Li, who looked cross.

Monroe froze, still wearing his non-preacher clothes. He had a paper to write, and he didn't want to hear--

They stood next to the computer, Monroe realized. That sent a deep worry down his back, like a frantic eggsac of spiders fleeing their home.

"We were looking for you," Li said, "but after what we saw on your computer we can't accept you any more."

"I don't know what you're talking about--"

"You're a sark-lover," they asked, "aren't you?"

Monroe's eyebrows went deep down, and for the first time his steely gaze broke into a rage. "My brother is a southerner! Don't say those slurs--"

"And you're a spiritist," Jia said. He shook his head, the mane-like fur shaking in tandem. "I can't accept this."

The day had come. Monroe didn't want to lose his friends, his miniature garden he cultivated between the two shacks. The breaking of friendship over idiotic beliefs would make him cry.

Monroe didn't trust the way Li looked at his clock.

"We can't have foreigner-lovers in these lands," Li said. She picked up the clock. On the clock was the time, close to midnight. She reset the guard-change spring that stopped the clock for forty minutes following midnight, rotated the arms, and set it to midnight.

"T-That's not the time," Monroe said, stammering.

"Oh?" Jia asked. "You're scared. Interesting."

Li slammed the clock onto the table next to the computer, showing the previous draft of his theological thesis he worked on. He had it on his phone afterwards so he could devote more time to it, but that previous version wasn't locked. His computer wasn't locked.

How could he be so stupid?

"Your last night is this one, and it ends at midnight," Jia said. "You earned this."

The clock began to click again, turned back on by engineered failsafes.

Li slammed her fist into the clock, stopping it for good, still stuck at midnight.

"We will see you then," Jia said.

Monroe, in fear, hid the clock under a Daojin hat, and got to work penning a warning for his brother. He knew that if anything were to happen, his brother would set it right. The country he was born in prided itself on legality, and he knew that no matter how much people didn't like his beliefs murder would never be accepted. The only thing he loved as close to his choice in religion was his love for his country and their history.

After writing the note, Monroe contacted the enforcers, where the only officer working at that time of night was officer Cobswroth. His last name reminded Monroe of VanMarco Cobswroth.

"Yes?" He asked.

"Sir, My neighbors threatened me. They broke my clock."

"Where are you?"

"The oldan forest."

There was silence.

"There's no one that stays in the Oldan Forest. This has to be a prank call. And, by the way, your connection says Zinia. How can I trust you?"

"Sir--"

The line cut off. The enforcement ministry failed to pick up any more calls.

Midnight passed. Monroe waited. Holding his breath. He was only a priest. A very famous one in a foreign country, yes, but still just a priest. He wasn't a famed fighter, or one willing to fight. He disagreed with the TransNationalist of his area on using anger to fuel themselves. Spiritism, in Monroe's mind, was a religion of peace.

One he'd be willing to find martyrdom in.

There was a knock at the door. Monroe answered it.

"Oh, VanMarco, it's good to see you!" Monroe cried, finding his best friend out of all the people he knew that wasn't his brother Jack Minstrin.

"I've got a gift for you," the bear-boy replied.

Monroe looked outside, didn't see Jia or Li, and sighed in relief. He thought he would be safe.

"Come on in!" he said, uttering his last words.

---

I hoped you enjoyed this small snippet of the work to come! If anyone is interested in more about Monroe, I could write about Monroe's prestigious theological career, or about the life of the gang of four!

Meanwhile, if you'd like to buy the book this came from, I have it on Amazon here:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BNTSY44S

I hope you enjoy the book as well if you get it!

Thank you for reading,

--Jaeger Dominus