This is a chapter where the addition of Ozzy and the larger role of Meander really paid off. There’s so much more you can do with a scene when the main character isn’t alone. Having someone else there allows you to have conversation, and for your characters to voice their emotions and frustrations. Better yet, when you have a lone character, the writing can get bogged down in description and thought, whereas with two characters, there can be more action. Take this as an example.
At first it wasn’t so bad. The light from the outside carried down remarkably well. Buttersby didn’t realize that her eyesight was growing accustomed to the lack of light at close to the same rate as the light was disappearing. The tunnel was even and straight. It had smooth edges, and looked to have been made by humans. They were the only ones she knew who were big on straight things. She turned at last to look behind her. The opening was a distant speck of light, but it was bright enough that when she turned back to go forward, everything seemed too dark. She fought down the urge to panic, and she kept walking.
Then the tunnel turned.
Buttersby found this out the hard way—literally. She ran nose first into the wall. Only by feeling in front of her with her toes was she able to see that the tunnel was now headed to the left. She took another look back at the light, and left it behind.
Now she was in total darkness. She wasn’t walking quickly. If you had seen her in the light of day, she would have seemed quite silly. As if she were walking on a tightrope, without the tightrope. Each step was deliberate and slow. Buttersby had no desire to kiss a wall with her nose again. This turned out to be a good thing, because seventy steps or so past the turn, the tunnel came to an abrupt end.
Buttersby tried to remain calm. She felt around with her toes, thinking at first that the past must bend again. It didn’t. Was this it? Had she done it? Perhaps all that was required of her was to walk down the tunnel and back—proving her courage. There was no way to tell. But the thought of coming back in the light and facing the three Vicunas, only to discover that she hadn’t finished her task after all, was too much. She felt around further, this time using her nose as well.
The wall in front of her was as smooth as the sides of the tunnel. It didn’t appear to have any pattern on it to speak of, and she couldn’t find one of the curious knobs humans were always sticking on doors for some reason. Buttersby turned her focus to the area to either side of the dead end. There she felt a small raised portion of the floor. It was up close against the wall, and if she hadn’t been feeling around for anything, she would have missed it. It felt about the size of one of her toes. She pressed it, and heard a click.
Undoubtedly you would have done the same thing. Video games have taught us all how every time you can’t go forward, it’s likely because you’ve come to a puzzle or have forgotten to pull some lever. But please realize that not everything in life is like a puzzle from a video game. In real life, a click in an unfamiliar place can be a very bad thing. Say you were a tomb robber in one of the great pyramids in Egypt. A click there could be the sound of a trap being sprung, and the walls closing in to crush you. Buttersby wasn’t a tomb robber in a great pyramid, but she had a similar feeling. When she heard the click, she startled backward and thought about running away. But all that happened was the wall in front of her swung away to reveal faint light. It had been a door after all.
At first it wasn’t so bad. The light from the outside carried down remarkably well. Buttersby’s eyesight grew accustomed to the lack of light at close to the same rate as the light was disappearing. The tunnel was even and straight. It had smooth edges, and looked to have been made by humans. They were the only ones she knew who were big on straight things. She turned at last to look behind her. She screamed in terror.
“Howdy,” Meander said. The opening behind him was just a distant speck of light.
It took a few moments to catch her breath and be able to speak. “You idiot! What are you doing here?” Buttersby asked. She had pictured herself as being rather heroic, in a sort of sacrificial way–heading down into the dark with nothing but her courage to keep her company. Having a Suri along for the ride seemed to take some of the heroism out of it. Of course, her irritation lasted only as long as it took for her to see how far the light was now, and how dark it was around her by comparison. She could only see an outline of Meander against the light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe it was a good thing she wasn’t alone.
“Are you kidding? I didn’t want to miss out on this.” Meander looked around. “It’s pretty dark in here. Do you suppose something lives at the bottom of this tunnel?”
“Of course not.” Buttersby turned around to look back down into the darkness.
“That’s good,” Meander said. “Because I’d hate to go through all this adventure only to be mauled by a bear at the end. Then again,” his voice brightened, “maybe it’ll be an anaconda, instead. That might make it more worth my while. It’d be like getting hugged to death.”
Buttersby cleared her throat. “Um . . . right.”
“Shouldn’t we be going on now?” Meander pushed up against her. “Bear or anaconda–anything would be better than just standing here being bored.”
Buttersby stumbled forward a bit at his push. She hadn’t been thinking of going forward. Going back seemed like a much better decision right then, but she couldn’t very well let Meander see her be a coward. “Let’s go,” she said.
There wasn’t room in the tunnel for Meander and her to go side by side, or even switch places so that Meander could lead, so Buttersby stayed in the lead. The tunnel turned soon after. Buttersby found this out the hard way–she ran nose first into the wall. Meander found this out the soft way–he ran into Buttersby.
“Would you give me a bit more space?” she asked once Meander had backed up enough so that she wasn’t sandwiched against the wall.
“Sorry,” he said. “It’s a bit dark in here.”
Buttersby only grunted in response. It was nice to have something to be irritated about. It made her think less about anacondas and bears and how cramped it was in that tunnel. “Let me see what’s happened up here,” she said. Only by feeling in front of her with her toes did she discover that the tunnel was now headed to the left. “Come on, let’s go.”
Now that they were in total darkness they weren’t walking quickly. In the light of day, they would have seemed quite silly. As if they were walking on a tightrope, without the tightrope. Each step was deliberate and slow. Buttersby had no desire to kiss a wall with her nose again. This turned out to be a good thing, because seventy steps or so past the turn, the tunnel came to an abrupt end. She managed to tell Meander to stop before he ran into her again, too.
Buttersby tried to remain calm. She felt around with her toes, thinking at first that the path must bend again. It didn’t. Was this it? Had she done it? Perhaps all that was required of her was to walk down the tunnel and back–proving her courage. There was no way to tell. But the thought of coming back in the light and facing the three Vicunas, only to discover that she hadn’t finished her task after all, was too much. She felt around further, this time using her nose as well.
“What’s happening?” Meander asked.
Buttersby shushed him and tried to focus. The wall in front of her was as smooth as the sides of the tunnel. It didn’t appear to have any pattern on it to speak of, and she couldn’t find one of the curious knobs humans were always sticking on doors for some reason. Buttersby turned her focus to the area to either side of the dead end. There she felt a small raised portion of the floor. It was up close against the wall, and if she hadn’t been feeling around for anything, she would have missed it. It felt about the size of one of her toes. She pressed it, and heard a click.
She startled backward into Meander, sending the two of them crashing to the floor. In front of her the wall swung away to reveal a glowing light. It had been a door after all. The mouse was waiting on the other side.
Sure, the narrator changed as well, but hopefully you can see how the scene improved with the addition of Meander and Ozzy (more on Ozzy next week). Foils have been used by writers for centuries, so why not alpacas? In any case, that’s all I have to say about that, and I’m out of time right now anyway. I had to work today instead of tomorrow, so the commentary this week was a little tight on time. Hope you enjoyed it.