ooooh what a pleasure it is to come here and find competent, polished prose - much less to find lyrical, compelling, and AWeSOmE prose! This is off to a great start:
Karim Mustafa had nothing. No living family, no organization, no pack. Without a group, he was vulnerable. He was meat. If he remained static, the New Gods and their pet monsters would find him. He had to stay on the move, all the time.

The highway lights stretched endlessly into the night. Lonely taillights burned in the darkness before him. The growl of the engine filled the interior of the car, a soft undercurrent of white noise underneath the non-stop chatter from the radio.
#loveit! Thank you for joining us at The Inkwell!