Reddit reviews Fur and Feather: Book One of Heralds of Shadow

Hi all!

I recently published my first novel on Amazon, and the story's supporting character had lost his voice to a stutter, and much of the story involves his battles through the difficulties that we all know comes with a stutter. He embodies a lot of what I go through when put in certain situations, like when faced with an active tavern or a tense conversation. I don't think there's many strong characters out there that have a stutter, and I believe it's a missed opportunity, because it was so much fun to write (and easy to relate for me). The Amazon link is below if you want to check it out!

For this subreddit I'll include a scene from late in the book. Wolf, the perspective, is with Wren in a hollow deep within a snowy sierra. I really liked this scene, as there are parts that I feel as a stutterer myself. Enjoy!

https://smile.amazon.com/gp/product/0578575213/ref=ppx_yo_dt_b_asin_image_o00_s00?ie=UTF8&psc=1

"

Now minutes went by without another word. Though I could still tell that his eyes stared at the same point above as mine. The moment of silence was ineffable. Wind was the only thing to whisper in, and even that struggled to breach the lull.

“Wolf,” Wren started, “w-would you take a hit f-for me?”

I raised a brow, though no one could had seen it. “Why would you ask that? Of course I would. A hundred blades to the gut, right now, where are they?”

“No, no,” he chortled. “It was just a qu-question. I ask because… I ask because, if we r-run into anything these l-last days, I’m not sure how m- much fight I have in m-me right now.”

“I would throw an eye in front of you if I had to,” I assured. “My left eye though, not my good one.”

I heard a smile creep on his face.

“I’m serious. Damn to the person, or creature, that wants to harm you.”

“What are y-you going to do, use y-your sword?” he asked sardonically.

“I just might.”

“That would be a day…”

“Don’t make me swallow my words, boy. I’m all you have out here.”

Another long moment of quiet filled the nook. It was a moment without words, though many could be felt from the songbird. It was an ostensible silence, a stutterer’s silence. Something that urged many sentences and thoughts, but those that never came into fruition, prevented by a puppet master of sorts. I was only left guessing what the silence meant.

Eventually the stutterer managed the easier rhythm of words.

“We should sleep.”

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