Tammy: ::scratching head in much consternation for her beloved crow-man::
I guess he’s one of those characters people love or hate . . . I liked him in the first book, when he was more very intelligent bird than man (they are ferociously smart birds), trying to make sense of both his new state and of the odd creature he had bonded with in terms of a mate, and I liked him when he made the hero’s journey in the second book, using what he had as a crow to find his place in the revolution, but also to grow more into his man skin–to become a man.
Maybe I wasn’t clear enough about what Nawat has been doing all the time he’s been away. He has been on the move–fighting, rescuing, watching his warriors get hurt, die, train, move with him, grabbing kids and women and men from burning villages, having arrows pulled out of him and wounds sewn up, sick from bad food, sitting up late over maps and plans, meeting in the jungles with suspicious rebels, flying from place to place on little food on less sleep. In all that time and action and movement he’s come to understand a few things. One of them is that if he lets Aly keep putting things off until the time is right, they may never happen, because one or both of them will probably die before this is all over. He’s learned to grab the good stuff while he can, because he doesn’t know if he’ll always have it. He’s also learned to read people, and he can see it’s not that Aly’s not interested; she’s busy.
Do any of you think I’d write a good guy who overpowers a girl who objects? Do you think if Aly really objected, Nawat would have survived the encounter? Sometimes you have to grab the moment, because you might not get another, particularly when there’s a war on.