** Image ID #1804531 Unavailable **
Note: I am not a professional copy editor. These are just my opinions as a writer and reader. Please except this in the spirit in which it is being offered, as encouraging and constructive criticism. Feel free to respond with any thoughts you have about this review.
OVERALL SENSE:
This is pretty amazing. I really loved what you did here. You created this unique world and drove us on a guided tour right through it. 
GRAMMAR/SPELLING:
Spelling is just fine. 
AREAS FOR IMPROVEMENT:
With your style (which I love) you have some danger areas you need to be aware of. The over use of description which leads to the over use of commas which leads to run on sentences. Like G.I. Joe says, knowing is half the battle. You are an extremely talented writer but sometimes less is more. The important thig is to find the right balance that makes your good works GREAT!
Here is a link that I found very helpful. I hope that you do as well:
| |  | Invalid Item 
This item number is not valid.
#1723955 by Not Available. |
Now, if you join a review group for novels, they will give you "Line by Line" reviews. I have included one for you below. Look for this: <comments in bold> I have noted many things. Keep in mind, I really like this piece. You have something wonderful here. This is just meant to help you. If you disagree, then disregard. 
Line By Line:
Ai'Liel (Walks The High Boughs) was always the most daring of the Branchrunners. He would range farther from the heart of the Homewood than any others, he would climb higher, leap farther, and to less solid branches, than any other of the warriors. <a little long. This can be two sentences>
It was said that he was more comfortable leaping tree to tree, branch to leaf to twig, than even the small, light, nut and seed gathering chitter sailers. <should this be sailors? I wasn’t sure.>
It was truth, too. Ai'Liel always felt a special thrill when he had to move as lightly and quickly as he possibly could, to maintain support and speed from the leaves of mother forest. He delighted in the wind in his hair, when he leaped and sprang above the crowns of trees. <reads easier as: tree crowns> Flying farther, taking longer drops, swinging along the vines, branches, even flexible tops, through the trees.
None could match his shooting, either. On the run, flying tree to tree, branch to branch, at breakneck speeds, he was still able to pick a budding spicefruit off of its stem along a clinging vine, with a single shaft. And <not needed, begin with He…> he was just as deadly accurate with the pocketed flexible shaft of the oh'ona strapped crosswise on his back, used to launch rounded river stones, or heavy balls made of the ch'ai'ira wood, then charred for hardness.
Children who had no hope of being accepted, or who had had <double word not needed, eliminate one> hope, <comma not needed> but had been passed for inclusion, <comma not needed> in the Runners, often played with these same weapons. They were scaled down versions, with stiffer shafts, used in a semi-organized team activity. Passing the "ball", usually made of bound rags of woolbark fiber cloth, from teammate to teammate, until one would see an opportunity to whip the "ball" into their chosen scoring target. <consider naming the ball. You have a talent for that and it could use a fun name>
Ai'Liel, however, had never had any real opportunity to join these hijinks. Both of his parents had been Runners, which meant that he had to demonstrate UNworthiness <unworthiness> in order to be removed from the order. So he'd trained to be a forest guardian, a warrior, from his third new-leafing.
Now, Ai'Liel was in the summer of his 20th new-leafing, one of the area's cs'cutiates, or senior Branchrunners. Acknowledged as the best example of a high demand, high performance, <comma not needed> population, he was sure to be announced, <comma not needed> soon, <comma not needed> as an heir to a tribe. That tribe's warrior representative, <comma not needed> amongst the Runners.
Today, though, Ai'Liel had roamed as far as even he considered to be <"to be" not needed, can be removed> on the edge of acceptability. Right to the edge of the mother forest, <comma not needed> from which he could see, if he climbed to the topmost <needs a space, top most> branches, the plains rolling far into the distance. There was a fairly strong wind kicking up off and across those flat expanses, <comma not needed> and the sky above was darkly brooding. He could smell the rain coming in the air, and felt the electric tingle that was the tell tale of a storm sure to be accompanied by the booming, cracking sky fire.
He began to move lower down the levels of the trees, while also making his way back towards the motherwood. He knew there was slim chance of making it, but the closer he got, the more protected from the storm he would be, sheltered by the thickening armor of the boles of centuries-old forest giants.
The rain began to fall, as expected. Fat drops, hitting with a palpable force on the top layers, even having some fair strength driving them, fat and pounding, to his height. The winds were strong enough to be felt all the way down at his level, causing whole trees to sway, not just the crowns and upper boughs. In very short order, it became clear that this was more than the normally destructive storms that came off the plains, this time of year. This was going to be a rage of nature, an act of violence on a scale rarely experienced by his people. A tree-killer.
He just hoped he could make it into the deepwood before the worst of it caught his fleeing self. <add to the previous paragraph>
The winds picked up, the rain became a constant fall of water, no longer separated into drops by leaves and branches, and the first rolling sounds of far off sky fire could be heard, <comma not needed> at fairly close intervals. Ai'Liel just hoped he could make it far enough into the forest to be protected from the brunt of the anger of the powerful storm. But, since he was still far enough away from the motherwood to be considered "in the outreaches", he knew the chances of that were slim, <comma not needed> and getting more so by the moment.
When the storm was so close to him that even the thicker branches, able to support a woodcutter's weight, <comma not needed> standing solid, were weaving and shaking to the point he was having trouble finding footing along them, much less purchase enough to allow his normal fleet run, Ai'Liel came to a decision. <run on sentence. Consider breaking up> He didn't like it, but he had no other choice.
He took his scythethorn blade from its sheath, and began to cut hanging greenmantle vine. Even with his blade of sharpened thorn, impregnated by the sap of the homewood <should this be capitalized?> tree, then dried to make it harder than most stones, the greenmantle was tough to cut.
But he managed. And, as the sky fire was cracking so close that the flash and the bursts of sound came almost simultaneously, he began lashing himself to the tree, hampered by the cutting winds. This was the best he could do, to defend himself against the storm's maddened assault. He hoped it would be enough. <combine with previous paragraph>
The wind gained fury as the storm raged on, gaining such power that it was whipping branches, and forcing the rain to fall almost horizontally, even this far below the tops of the trees. Ai'Liel could feel the whole tree he was lashed to thrumming with the power transferred to it. The branch his feet were on was creaking and bending, twisting to the wind's beat, while the massive booming explosions accompanying the sky fire were falling one after another, almost a single, rolling, sound. He felt his exposed skin was being cut by the impact of water, then flayed from the bone by the force of the wind.
For an interminable time, Ai'Liel rode the storm, in this manner, whipped, flayed, scoured by wind and rain, and the small debris carried on each in its maddened rush, the storm seeming to draw more and more on the pure and raw energy of the Brown Father, from whence all life grew, and to all returned, <comma not needed> in some form, <comma not needed> to be born again, anew, and different.<comma not needed>
What had already been a storm of generations built upon itself, many times over, <period here and begin new sentence> green leaves were ripped from their branches, even this far down, and all about him thin, weakened, or damaged branches were wrenched from their moorings, to fall in a complex and clattering pattern, through the trees' living arms, to the ground below. There was an incessant thrumming throughout this part of the forest, born of the complicated and ongoing vibrations of living wood strummed by the violent fingers of the wind, playing its strings on that which withstood its onslaught, and percussion with skyfire and falling branches, water making various accents to the dramatic, and brutal symphony Ai'Liel found himself a sole audience of...from the focus of all of its massive pressure, it seemed. <run on sentence, consider breaking up>
As ever, <comma not needed> though, a man, <comma not needed> with the freedom to make his choices, also has the necessitated freedom to face the consequences. For Ai'Liel, the consequences seemed dire enough, <comma not needed> already. The Mother and the Father, though, <comma not needed> liked to heap humiliation upon those who expose more than is their wonted share of pride, and Ai'Liel had come to the conclusion that he had displayed just that, and wondered just how much meekness would be forced upon him,<comma not needed> before this was over. <run on sentence, consider breaking up>
He hadn't long to wonder about this, as just moments after he started reflection on the idea that hubris was the reason for his current state, the sky, herself, <comma not needed> opened, <comma not needed> and loosed a bull-throated roar, <period here and begin new sentence> a flash of light, and a concussion of sound, all together, that stopped <change to: all together stopping> the small part of the world around him with its focused act of retribution. The sky fire had struck his own tree, Ai'Liel felt the fire of it run through him, as it grounded itself in the Father, through its bole, and screamed with agony, only to be silenced by a shattered piece of the crown of his stanchion against the storm fully the size of his leg, coming with a speed born of both gravity and the forcible shattering of the impact of the fire, crashing against his head and body, in its tumbling fall to the ground. <run on sentence, consider breaking up> He vaguely heard an ominous cracking creak, and felt a wider sway, as he was lost to the void of dreamless unconsciousness.
See, that's not so bad. I find them VERY helpful.
Thank you!
Please keep writing and reviewing others. We will grow together!
Respectfully,
Six Gun
"Invalid Item"
** Image ID #1613765 Unavailable **
|
| (4.5)
| (4.0)
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
What I liked:
Suggestions: 
You tell us how the army changed Walt and how he treated Greg differently. It seems to me that Ruiz would have had some effect also. I would have liked to see something about how, prior to the suicide, that Walt seemed changed yet again, then disaster. Something like that. Another hundred or so words would do it and it would add another later of depth to the story.
Favorite Lines: 
Grammar/Spelling 
Em yelled as she place her box in the overstuffed trunk. 
I like Sam Remy. As I have said, He reminds me a little of Sam Axe a.k.a. Bruce Campbell. I find him an interesting sort. I wonder about him, about the things we don’t know about him yet. 
Suggestions:
General Comments and Reader Reaction: 
Favorite Lines: 
In Conclusion
Been there!
Thank you!
add hyphen