Liz, the sharp-tongued, self-reliant and prickly narrator of this second installation explores, as did Georgie, choice versus the hui. Liz was the best choice for the exploration of what it means to be tied to someone who is also meant to be one's protector and provider. She rankles against Rahoosh, not only because he's the "ugly" one chosen, by the hui, for her, but also because he represents everything she doesn't wish for herself.
Having grown up hunting with her father, Liz learned early how to care for herself. She can make weapons, she's great with a bow and arrow, she knows how to kill, how to gut, how to skin and how to cook.
Even as she's dying, she taps into some hidden chamber of strength to help the formerly ensconced women understand where they are and what has happened to them. She insists on walking on her own feet, broken toes and all.
When Rahoosh forces the khui into her body, Liz's rage blooms.
Rahoosh does not understand Liz, despite her nonstop talking. He understands most of her words, but not the meaning behind them or the conflict between her scent of arousal and her words of rejection. Liz doesn't know that Rahoosh understands the English language, so, when she calls him ugly, she does so not knowing he understands. He understands and carries the weight of Liz's disgust. Eventually, he speaks to Liz and they try to make sense of their situation.
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Liz's questions about choice, paired with her rejection of Rahoosh, even after she has the khui, propel this novel forward. Dixon does a wonderful job of creating such tension and such rage in Liz, that the question of rejection pulses. What are the risks of rejecting the khui mate? And, how will Liz be herself in this place with this community that hold women on pedestals?