Muffy Meets the Assistants

Such was her resolve to leave her comfortable burrow that Muffy had efficiently packed all her worldly belongings and bundled it up in a little red scarf, and then tied it to the end of a stick. This had happened several days ago, but unfortunately, over the langorous Bank Holiday weekend, Muffy had drunk too much Sangria from discarded bottles in the field left behind by a group of Spanish picnickers, and thus was in no fit state to travel very far, or even to hop to the nearest bus stop.

But today, she was finally ready. Clutching onto her luggage with one white paw, she trudged across the field quickly, determined not to turn back and look at her burrow, where the faint aroma of burnt carrot toast still lingered, as if beckoning her to return. The sun shone relentlessly overhead, and it became increasingly difficult and wearisome to hop across the vast field to the road. The horizon shimmered tantalisingly in the distance, but no matter how much energy Muffy expended, it seemed that the bus stop was still many miles away.

She began to contemplate the possibility that the world was indeed, very vast, and that she may never even find the Photographer unless he returned to Blea Tarn. Until now, she had not considered the possibility of never seeing her dear Miffy again, and the thought made her little bunny heart shrink with fear. Perhaps our little heroine's task was doomed to failure from the beginning, like the attempts of K the land surveyor to penetrate the elusive Castle, she would live out her life hopping about in circles, chasing a chimera - perhaps Miffy (if she had not ended up in a tasty stew by then) did not even want to be found. However, Muffy rather fancied the thought of being caught up in a "Kafkaesque" situation; it vaguely appealed to her romantic-bunny sense of imagination. For now, she wanted to be known simply as "M"... a sort of Everyrabbit that is identifiable to most everyone who has ever been on a futile search for something.

No sooner had these thoughts passed through her mind than our intrepid bunny M suddenly spied two distant figures, both slightly bent over, hauling big packs on their backs. From this distance, M thought they rather resembled pack-carrying camels across the Sahara; not that she had ever been to a desert herself. M thought that if her search for the Photographer and Miffy took her to the Sahara, she'd have to get some sunglasses, and perhaps a hat. The figures soon loomed larger, and were heading towards her. They weren't camels, though - they were men - two of them, rather average and non-descript in all aspects of their appearance. Both were slightly bent and carried enormous packs on their backs, as if they were on an expedition across the English Lake District. But no one ever went on such expeditions across the Lake District, even a humble, unschooled Cumbrian rabbit knew that much. M eyed them suspiciously, even going as far as hopping near their feet to sniff their boots, but they barely noticed her. Both of them struck her as looking astonishingly alike, and in fact the only way she could tell them apart was that one of them wore a small earring in his right ear, and the other in his left. And they both stopped walking to wipe their brows almost in unison, and one of them spoke in a breathless voice.
"Looks like a good spot?"
The other one merely nodded, too red-faced and breathless with exhaustion to speak.

After a few moments to gather themselves, they both started unpacking their rucksacks and bringing out all sorts of fanciful equipment that M had never before had the opportunity to examine at such close range. Complicated contraptions that took at least a few hours to set up, by which time the sun would have disappeared behind the horizon, M mused, as she watched one of them carefully screw a piece of glass into the machine. Not having seen a camera from so close before, M cleverly surmised that they must be photographers themselves. She considered the possibility that the might even know the Photographer she was after. Perhaps they were his Assistants! She started to clear her throat to get their attention, but all that garnered was a quick, disinterested glance from one of them, who was more absorbed in setting up his gear.

"Whatcha shooting?"
The other one shrugged, and then swept his hand in a dramatic gesture, indicating the entire landscape before them. "Dunno. The trees, lake, mountains. Everything."
And then he punctuated this reply with another non-committal shrug, as if to put an end to that discussion. They were very busy, after all, setting up their large and complicated cameras. There was no time for idle conversation.

M felt crushed that she had been ignored by such an inarticulate buffoon. Even with her limited rabbit vocabulary, she felt that the question warranted much more of a soul-searching answer. She did not have to search deep within herself to find it. The landscape was Home to her, it was where she belonged, where she grew up, and it was everything that she knew. And it had provided carrots in abundance. Again, she sadly recalled her little carrot toaster in her burrow, and forced herself to think of something else.

It was the mid-afternoon by then, and neither Assistant had taken any notice of her despite M waving her paws frantically at them, trying to get their attention. By now, both had disappeared under thick, black cloths to peer through their enormous cameras, and from M's perspective low among the tall grasses, they resembled rather menacing 5-legged monsters in hibernation, which twitched only occasionally. She sighed and wondered if she would miss the last bus to Windermere. It was nearing 4 o'clock by the time one of them emerged from behind the cloth, only to declare, "I need a red filter".

Who are you? Do you know the Photographer? You know, the one who has abducted my baby sister, Miffy. I need to find him!
M desperately mouthed this to the Assistant, but he merely yawned contemptuously in her direction before rummaging in his rucksack.

At this, M disdainfully gathered up her belongings and continued on her slow journey towards the road. She could see a bus parked by the roadside, but it was already starting to pull off by the time she reached the road. Stop, stop! Wait for me! she found herself shouting, but no sound came out, only little gasps of exertion as she was finally left behind in a cloud of exhaust fumes. Again, she shook her white paws angrily at the retreating bus, until it was a mere speck in the distance. Oh well, she thought. Her departure would have to wait another day. She was too tired to hop back to her burrow, but she could always seek shelter behind a rock - there were plenty of those at Blea Tarn. And to comfort herself, she would sneak a bite of the carrot toast she'd packed away in her red bundle.

Hopping back to the nearest rock, she found herself again in the vicinity of the Photographer's Assistants, who resolutely failed to provide her with any clues to the whereabouts of the Photographer. They were just mostly silent, or sometimes they uttered soft curses to themselves and shook their heads. The sun was starting to sink behind the mountains, and still, they were fiddling with their cameras. M hopped onto a rock to sit down and watch them. She was just out of earshot, but could hear snatches of voices as they argued with each other over which film to use, and which exposure was correct. Darkness finally fell and still, the two figures stood there, bathed in bright moonlight, adjusting the lenses on their great big cameras and peering through the viewfinders. Her curiosity by this time was also tinged with annoyance - but obviously this curiosity wasn't enough to keep her awake to continue watching them, and just before midnight, M fell into a deep sleep in the comforting shadow of the rock, still clutching at a nibbled piece of carrot.