By italychick

The young woman flits through the nightly spring festival like a fish through water, nimby, swiftly, impossible to grasp. Her hands never rest. They touch the wares in the stalls, caressing the brightly coloured silk at a cloth merchant's, probing the crispiness of the sweet cakes on a baker's table, and prodding the bracelets guarded by a goldsmith's stare. An intricate dance of fingers, accompanied by the music and hubbub that lies in the air.

The watcher stands in the shadows at the edge of the square, his eyes following her. A smile plays on his lips. She's a swift one.

She weaves her way through a throng assembled around a red-haired dancer while she fingers the fabrics, felt and leather of their clothing.

And her hands not only touch. Sometimes, they grab, pinch, hold, and retrieve. They deftly take possession of this and that, letting gold, food, purses and other items disappear in the voluminous folds of her skirts or in the depths of the pouch she carries. And no one notices.

The watcher's smile broadens. What a lass.

She approaches a row of tables where swords and daggers gleam and glitter in the light of the fires. Smiling at the swordsmith, she takes up a small poniard to adore its gem-studded hilt.
The smith steps towards his presumed customer, opening his mouth to greet her.

She quickly rubs her left hand over the right one holding the dagger, producing little sparks of golden magic. The smith's mouth closes and his eyes becomes vacant. She pockets the weapon, turns and disappears into the crowd, leaving him standing, staring at nothing.

The watcher's smile turns into a grin. She's the one I need.

He disengages from the shadows and follows her.

***

"Release me, ye son o' a two-headed goat." She sits on the ground in a dark room. Her glare at the man glitters dangerously in the light of a single lantern. A leather strap is wound around her wrists and binds her hands. She moves them to her head and gingerly fingers the bump his attentions have left there.

"Sorry 'bout that," he says. "Had to put ye to sleep for binding yer hands. Me name's Rainer, by the way. What's yer's?"

"That's none of yer concern, ye sulphurous toad fart . Why did ye drag me into this manky hole?" Her eyes wander the walls of what is obviously a storeroom.

"Look, lass, there's no need to use such language. I'm here to make a business proposal, ye know. One that'll benefit the both of us."

"There's nothing that a troll stook such as ye cold offer me."

He points at the leather band tying her hands. "I could offer ye yer freedom, and—"

"Ye gobshite! Ye must be mad as a box o' frogs if—"

With a grin, he takes up the pouch that she carried and shakes it. The clinking sound of gold, silver and coins is unmistakable. "Where I go, there might be more of that—a lot more, for both of us."

She tilts her head, studying him. "And why would ye need a poor, wee lass like me for whatever ye wanna do?"

"I'd need yer ... special skills, ye know."

"I don't have no special skills, ye know." She imitates the melody of his voice almost perfectly.

"What about thieving?" He opens the pouch and peers into it. "And..." His eyes go to the leather band that ties her wrists and prevents her from doing magic with her hands, "... what about witchcraft?"

"How do ye know?"

"I saw ye going after yer trade at the fair." He upends her pouch, and its contents fall noisily to the ground between them.

"How much more?"

He pulls his gaze away from the twinkling, colourful items cluttering the floor and looks at her. "How much more of what?"

"Ye said that where ye go there would be a lot more of that, for both of us." She motions her chin towards the former contents of her pouch.

"Hmm..." He scratches his stubbly cheek. "Like a dragon's hoard, maybe?"

Her eyebrows jump upwards. "Me name's Emma."

Emma's sudden smile, all teeth and eagerness, makes him hesitate. "Er... Pleased to meet ye, Emma. I knew we—" He stops, then reaches for a small book that lies among her items and studies its black and green cover. "Hey, what's this?"

"Don't ye touch that!" she screeches, scrambling ineffectively across the floor towards him with her bound hands. "It's mine, ye stinkin' midden!"

'The Witch's Way'!" He studies the emerald green cover. "Have ye read that?"

"Aye. Ye know it, too?" She leans forward, ogling him with interest. "What did ye think about it?"

1) Story: Did we like it? Did it draw us in? Was it believable? Did it bore us? What did we think of its plot?

"Ye're in luck, I keep notes of what I read and of what I think of it." He digs into his pockets and retrieves a crumpled piece of paper. He studies it, then continues.

"The story's about a witchy girl with a wild, untamed spirit and a fine heart. She grew on me quickly. She alone did draw me in, but the smooth dialogues and the precise, polished writing helped me along. It is a highly entertaining read, especially once that a certain young man makes his appearance."

"Some parts were a bit quick, maybe, but I'll get back to that when we talk about pacing.

"What about ye, did ye like it?"

"Aye, that I did." Emma nods. "Like ye say, that protagonist! She's a fine one alright. Probably one of the best an' most memorable I've met in Wattpadlandia. Speaking o' which—or should I say witch—the world was so rich and immersive. I found them environmental descriptions particularly good. I almost felt like I were in that forest, I did."

She inches on her bottom across the dusty floor towards Rainer. "I wish there were more o' that book, that I do. T'weren't long enough to satisfy me. I've been readin' all the updates. I were quite disappointed when I got to the end. I wish it were finished. I'm itchin' to know what happens like I slept in the dirtiest bed in a ha'penny inn. I'd like to enchant that writerly lady to work faster, fo' sure."

2) Characters: Are your characters plausible, tangible, and relatable? How do they grow and change? Did they work out for us?

"Och, them characters! I loved the characters." Emma rolls her eyes affectionately, rubbing at her bound wrists. "They were rich and strong and immensely likeable. As an aside, as I read I found myself 'avin certain feelings, if you will, an' it really made me philosophical on the difference between truth an' fiction." She narrows her brow.

"Oh aye?" Rainer says mockingly. "Philosophical? You?"

"Yes." Emma frowns at her burly captor. "Like I said, feelins. 'Ere in Wattpadlandia they calls 'em 'shippins'. I had me some real strong shippins wi' this story, I'll tell you that. There were some strange alchemy goin' on 'ere wi me and me feels, I tell you true. I were shippin' to high heaven!"

A gooey smile breaks the captive's frown. "Which made me think how passin' strange it is, the difference between truth and fiction. In real life, if some strong, brave, gutsy lady were to encounter some badger-arse who treated 'er as brutally as 'im what won't be mentioned for t'sake o' summonin' the spoilers,"—Emma glowered pointedly at Rainer—"I wouldn't never be hopin' and wishin' they might be makin' romance. But in this book? I were plain gaggin' for it, like a drunken plough-hand at an ale barrel." She shakes her head, mystified.
"Enchantment. Must be."

"One thing though," she went on. "An' I'd like to know yer thinkings on this too. I felt like I couldn't quite get mesen right inside Gwyn's head at first. Not until she met...you knows who. I was tryin' to think why, an' I think it's cos I didn't know what she wanted. Not in general, like, wi' 'elpin her friend an' all that, but what them what knows oftentimes calls yer 'fatal flaw'. Ye know—like 'er inner struggle. I wasn't sure what her inner struggle were from off the bat. Now, the writerly lady outlines it nicely in the blurb o' the book—her relationship wi' her magic an' everything—but I think I'd like to see more o' it in the start, when we're gettin' acquainted."

Emma sighs and screws up her eyes. "That said, I've been somewhat indisposed the last few weeks, an' it's been a few sunrises since I started the book, so I might o' missed something, or it might o' been edited already."

"Aye, I see ye." Rainer nods, then picks his nose. "I felt an itch with the first few chapters, too, and I wasn't sure what 'twas. I thought it might be the pacing, though, but as I said before, I'll come back to that later."

He studies Emma. "Ye look tired, lass. All that philosophing seems to get to ye. Anyway, in the later chapters, I felt that her character's strong and fiery, solid. As to Wren, though, whom we meet early on, he remains sketchy. The other man, the one whom we don't mention, he's stronger, his character, I mean. Even though the two blokes don't seem that different, probably because Wren was a tad sketchy. Might be good to distinguish them more clearly."

"Aye, am inclined t'agree wi' yet there. Don't go making nothing of it though."

3) Feelings: How does your story feel?

"To me," Rainer continues, "the story felt somewhere between Lord of the Rings and a fairytale. Aye, I know, there's not a long stretch between the two. And 'twas definitely way funnier than LOTR. The author does love her characters, that's evident."

"It made me feel cracking good. It were a right uplifting read," Emma adds. "An' them strange inexplicable shippins, like I said afore."

4) Pacing: are there any parts of your book that feel slow, or rushed, or superfluous to the movement of the story?

"I feel like I couldn't entirely get wi' the pacing before our odd couple was united," Emma says, looking away from Rainer at the earthen floor. "It were addictive after. A right pacey read. The stuff wi' Wren didn't quite work for me—I didn't get right invested in him like I should. I preferred that fancy snatching brute for some reason."

Rainer moves closer to the lantern, it's light illuminating his face from below. Emma moves back against the wall.
He takes a breath then nods.

"Absolutely. Pacing is me big gripe with this book. Well, there's always something going on, don't get me wrong. But parts o' the book felt rushed, as if the author were saying 'pack things tightly here, so we can get o'er with it and go to the interesting parts quickly'.

"In particular the first chapters have a learning curve as steep as the slopes of Golguruh mountain, with droves of facts and names. Take the chapters 1.1, 1.2, 3.2, and 6.1, see. I'm not sure all of that information is required there and then. This may be part o'what made the gal hard to grasp at the beginning. Keeping the facts and story more simple an' concentrating on the gal and what happens under her shock of red hair might help."

He leafs through the book in his hands, stopping at a certain page to put his finger on it. "An example of steep reading, I thought, is this the one where she gets to a certain castle that's populated with a whole bunch o'motely characters. They're all described by name and trait, straining the reader's mind to find a place for them all. But hardly do we know them, off she goes again. I would have liked to see more of them—or nothing at all. It's hard on the reader to introduce a bunch of characters just to discard them again in the next chapter. Well, they may pop up later again, but the reader will have forgotten them at that time."

"Aye, I gets yer meanin'." Emma nods.

5) Spelling & grammar: What's our impression of your spelling and your grammar?

Rainer picks up a gold bracelet that came from Emma's pouch. She glowers at him. He puts it down quickly.
"The grammar and spelling are fine," he says, "and a few misplaced commas don't mar the picture."

Emma nods. "It were really good, I found. I felt quite sad that t'author obviously felt t'need to point out t'dialogue quirks in a sort o' introduction gubbins right at the start, so it were the first thing ye read. I would o'enjoyed getting stuck straight in wi'out that there, but it seems to 'ave been born o'necessity, like."

6) Suggestions: Do we have any suggestions for improving the book?

"Only that what I said earlier," Emma says. "I want Gwyn's inner conflict made explicit right up front. An' I need more feels from her relationship wi' Wren—he just weren't as important to me as he were to her. But I ain't got no suggestions how you could do that, all the components were there. I dun't know why I di'n't feel 'im so much."

Rainer nods and strokes the hilt of his sword with a grin. "Slashing, I'd say. Kill some o'the characters, or cut back on them, at least. But flesh out the important ones, such as Wren, in more detail, give them a bit more time."

Emma eyes him and his weapon warily.

"Another thing," he continues. "I like books sporting a map, can't say why. But books that start with a glossary feel daunting to me, and I'm sure I'm not the only one. And in this case the glossary is not needed. I'd strongly recommend stowing it away safely somewhere towards the back o'the book. Or, at least, add a fat disclaimer at its beginning, something like 'In case you're interested, here's a couple o'words, with some hints on how to pronounce them without permanently damaging yer tongue. If ye're not interested, just skip this part, ye won't need it for understanding the story.'"

7) Highlights: What did we enjoy most?

"I love the narrator's perky tone of voice," Rainer says.

"One of the best parts of the book is where she argues with that highly-skilled yet brutish swordsman who's nearly as arrogant as she is. Chapters 8.2 and 9.4 had me lolling on the ground.

"And the whole book is done with an amazing care for detail and lovely artwork."

"I loved the world, and the environmental descriptions, and that sparkling voice." Emma adds. "It really is a grand book. Such a ride."

8) Audience: Who do we think would most enjoy this book, and why?

Rainer smiles. "If yer looking for light fantasy—I mean fantasy that's not of the sinister kind—if ye like funny characters with a strong voice, this is a fierce fine book for ye."

"Well 'appen I don't read fantastical stuff, but I really liked this anyways," Emma says, as if she's going out of her way just to disagree with Rainer. "If ye like quick-witted, sparkling dialogue and a romping, thoroughly enjoyable plot, look no further."

Emma studies the intricate knot of the leather strap binding her wrists then glowers at Rainer. "So, now, what about that business proposal ye've talked about?"

"Aye, lass. Listen carefully..."

And the two of them sit and talk, planning for an adventure whose tale is as yet untold.