Wit’s book

[ΨιτιsτηεΒέsτ he/him]

So I did say that I would put stuff down on here. So here is the first chapter of the book I am writing. It is called FITHALDER. 

I actually have more written but this is what I will put out for now. Tell me what you think!

Chapter 1

Spoiler

1

I’m not sure if this is good or extremely bad. But in both cases, if they couldn’t, what makes us think that we can— a lesser generation— against an even more formidable adversary?

 

Another one came in. Peter looked up, and saw Branger, Frondon, Palmey, and Derv come in and shut the inner door behind them. 

    Peter turned and told Liam to tell the kitchen they had four more. “They’re all coming in tonight.” He mumbled as he started weaving through the tables toward the kitchens.

    The Bighouse’s roof  stretched up like a tent; it rose up from the walls to a high top in the middle. It had tables scattered all over, some small, some huge. From the desk Peter was at, past the stove were the kitchens. They jutted out from the far wall, and came all the way, almost, to the stage. They took up nearly a fifth of the whole room, and because of their position, they created two corners in the circular room. Most people tried to sit farther away from the cold room, but not in the corners. The cold room was the entrance to the Bighouse. There was the outside door and the inside door. Between them, there was a small room. At night the room was kept at the coldest temperature they could manage. They did this so that when someone opened the outside door, the wind would blow out of the room- keeping the mist out, and the fires safe.  The rest of the room was warmly lit by four coal fireplaces spaced throughout the wall all around. In between the fireplaces there were beds that visitors and locals could use freely for sleep or to relax and eat. . 

As Peter turned back toward the new ones, another came through the door. Peter thought he seemed familiar. He was a young man in his late twenties or early thirties, and had calculating green eyes, which took the room in before looking straight into Peter’s. He had thick brown hair that was cut over his ears, and the body of a traveler. He wore travelers clothes too. On his waist he wore a horn, a sword, and a small pouch, most likely for money, that hung down in front of an even smaller key.

Whispers flew quietly through the room.

    “Welcome in, Brandger, Frondon”. He held up his hand as they passed. “Palmey”. He marked them down. They went past him and the newcomer came up to the table. 

    “My name is Bard,” he said. “And yes, um, I am also a bard.”

    “You can perform, I assume?”

    “Yes.” he nodded.

Peter was going to ask more, but he stopped. He felt somehow that the man had a lot going on and was ready for some rest. He marked him down then turned back to him.

    “Go to the kitchens and ask for Bondy. Tell him you can perform.”

Bard nodded and walked past Peter. Peter stared at him as he walked. There was just something about him that caused him to hold his first impression judgments back. There was something in the way the man moved too.

    Another person opened the door, and came in Kessian and his wife Finny, then their children Drebb, Sanny, and heave. They nodded to him as they walked to their normal table, next to the Druuans, who always played with the children, giving Kessian and Sanny time to talk with others. Peter tapped Drebb on the shoulder as he passed, then turned, facing the other direction. He glanced back in time to see him look around in confusion, then catch up to the rest of his family. 

As Peter welcomed more people in, he noticed that the bard was sitting in one of the “corner” tables alone. He was reading some old looking papers that were wrinkled and tearing at the edges from seemingly constant attention. 

    Liam came back up to him at that point, and Peter told him to take the desk for a second. He walked through the crowds of people. There really were crowds, he thought. There was nearly everyone in the clearing there tonight, except those who never came all of course. He pretended to head to the kitchen first so as to not make it seem as if he was going straight to the bard, but when he glanced up, he found the bard staring intently at him, the papers gone. Deciding that it would be awkward not to go to the table at that point he headed over. As Peter came up to the table, the bard spoke first.

    “Um, Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

    “Of course”

    He thought for a moment, and Peter watched his hands snap and then bring his finger back up to pinch his pointer down. He did this rapidly, then asked, “Do you like history?”

    “Yes.” Peter leaned closer, interested.

    He waited for another moment, again, fiddling with his fingers. “What are you most interested in?”

    “Mostly the old clearing war, when Sansiadeth the first conquered the Kian capital and united eight clearings.”

    He looked disappointed somehow.

    “I don’t have much time to study, Bondy, you see, runs this Bighouse, and I am his son, so I take on parts of the load.”

    “Yes, of course.” He nodded.

    They waited again, then said, “Have you been outside the clearing?”

    Peter looked at him incredulously. “No! I’m no traveler, and I don’t have a death wish.” He mumbled the last part, then looked up and realized he had clearly been heard, and the bard now had his eyebrows raised and was staring at him.

    “Death wish?”

    “Well…”

    “I jest. The forest is extremely dangerous, but you can survive. I’m not sure about thrive… but the ones who don’t are the ones who don’t know what they’re doing.”

    “I don’t know what I’m doing.” Peter replied.

    The bard waited another moment, then said. “The last song I sing, I want you to tell me if you’ve ever heard it.”

    “Ok.”

    Then the bard leaned back as Peter's father came to the table, steaming food on a silver platter. Peter headed back up to the desk confused. 

    As the night went on twenty four more people came to the Bighouse. Peter kept making bets with Liam that it was going to stop at the next person then the next, but they kept coming.

When the capacity was stable, and everyone had their food, Peter went to sit next to Gerwb and Tere. They were good friends. Both of them had been working at the Bighouse for at least five years. Gerwb was tall and lanky, but had more muscle than most his age. In the mornings, after they finished working, some days he would help the planter’s with their difficult jobs. Tere usually stayed and helped the cooks finish before talking with travelers and with anyone she could find taking a break from anything. They got up and moved the Drever-stove from the center, and rolled it to the back. The Bard came up to the stage and introduced himself.

    “I am Bard, I can sing, dance, tell stories and can do a few tricks. In a little bit, I’ll take suggestions from you all.”

    With that he launched into a song. It told of a young man whose parents and his sister died. He wandered through the woods mourning and found an old man who lived outside a clearing. The old man taught him, and he became a warrior. When he returned to his clearing years later, he found it being attacked by kians. He fought off the entire band, and became a hero to the clearing.

    After the song, Peter turned to Liam. It was as he had just woken up from a small sleep, but he didn’t feel groggy, just inspired. Peter applauded the bard and he went back to eating his meal. 

Next, Bard told stories. The people listened in silence as land of huge mile-long clearings with no mist at all, and large bodies of water, with wooden houses floating on them were described. They heard about people who lived in the sky and flew through the air. As they heard about great fires they could feel the heat, and smell the burning stench of wood. As he described the roaring flames they could hear them outside the room. When he wrapped up the tales they felt a yearning for these distant lands they had seen and heard and felt, and when he ended, they each sat there, reflecting on their feelings.

    Then the first cheer went out, and they snapped back to reality in the warmly lit, large room, full of the smell of good food. The bard announced that he would eat, and everyone turned back to their own tables.

    “He really is good, isn’t he?” Said Grewd. 

    “Yeah.” Peter mumbled, still a little dazed.

    “I wish I was a traveler.” Tere said, her eyes distant. “Then maybe I could find a fifera. I wish so much I could have a fifera.I bet there are fiferas there, in that land. I’ll ask him about it later.” She looked in every merchant's cart that came to the clearing no matter what they sold. Sometimes they thought she was a thief as she dug through their things.

    “He didn’t say he necessarily had been to all those places…” Grewd’s tone indicated that he didn’t believe what he said.

    “Wouldn’t it be nice to see all of them though” Tere said, turning to Grewd. “I can’t think of anywhere nicer.”

 Grewd thought for a second, then reluctantly agreed. “It’s dangerous though. No one ever comes back from leaving the clearing.”

“It’s only dangerous if you don’t know what you're doing.”Peter said thinking back to his earlier conversation with the bard.

“And none of us know what we're doing.” Said Grewd triumphantly.

They sat for a moment in silence. There was something in the way the bard did everything: like he had been doing it for a thousand years and just knew how with infinite familiarity. 

“It's always fun when performers come. It makes the night so much more interesting. Not that it's not normally interesting, but that it's exciting when they come.” Peter said then took another bite of his food. They were eating beef stew, which was slightly more seasoned than normal. Peter suspected the bard had made the kitchens excited.

“It is fun, but he is also special. Isn’t there just something about him?”

“Yes but it’s definitely not ominous or threatening.” Tere replied.

Then they noticed the bard get back up on the stage with some sort of instrument that had a large, shallow, oval bowl, with a dozen or so strings stretching across it. He began playing a soft melody, plucking the strings in a smooth way. He played with the same power he performed with before. The audience was drawn into a daze, following his melody up and down and through winding pathways. They were drawn back to the green fields spoken of earlier, where they were happy and content. As they dreamed, many of them didn’t even notice when he ended the song softly, letting a note hang. 

The silence was untouchable. Peter felt as if one sound was made, the whole building would crumble.

Then someone fell off their chair, and every head in the room stared down at poor Drebb. He sat on the floor, embarrassed to have punctuated the silence. However the damage was done and the small whispers started back up. 

The bard cleared his throat. “Suggestions?”

“Fuller’s dream!”

“The tree man!”

“Fevers and leaves!”

“Summer’s rain!”

The bard stood there confused. In the jumble, Peter didn’t hear any distinct words and he assumed the bard felt the same way. After a moment of silence, someone shouted, “The antsy pig!” 

The bard, having heard a song named, waited a moment then began the jumpy, rhythmic tune, using his strings and his feet. The rest of the Bighouse clapped the beat, and sang the chorus with him. This was what they enjoyed most, and they joined in energetically.

 

    One day one pig had nothing to eat.

    He grew restless and danced on his feet.

    But that only made him fall on his seat.

    Then he opened the door through some old cheat.

 

    The antsy pig! That raskly thing!

    That genius thing of now we sing.

    The antsy pig! Never been caught!

    Through the hands of those who sought!

 

    He ran out of his little pen.

    He ran where no pig’s ever been.

    He ran on tools, crops and men.

    (They don’t like it, now or then!)

    

    The antsy pig! That raskly thing!

    That genius thing of now we sing.

    The antsy pig! Never been caught!

    Through the hands of those who sought!

 

    The farmer chased it off his crops.

    His work. His tools- it all he drops

    To get that pig, he dives and flops!

    The pig again did end on tops.

    

    The antsy pig! That raskly thing!

    That genius thing of now we sing.

    The antsy pig! Never been caught!

    Through all the hands of those who sought!

 

    And so the whole place joined the fight!

They sought the pig now out of spite.

All through day and all through night.

Never thinking to set it right.

 

The antsy pig! That raskly thing!

That genius thing of now we sing.

The antsy pig! Never been caught!

Through all the hands of those who sought!

 

Then with a bolt he ran right out!

Out the clearing sure and stout.

He was gone without a doubt-

Set upon a new wild route.

 

The antsy pig! That raskly thing!

    That genius thing of now we sing.

    The antsy pig! Never been caught!

    Through all the hands of those who sought!

 

 

When the song ended, they all cheered and the bard launched into ‘the old hat’, then when he finished that, another song Peter had never heard before, but a few of the older men softly sung along to. 

When he finished, the bard started a sad, flowing song in some other language. Peter had never heard it, and he looked around at the faces of the others listening, but didn’t see recognition in them either. Although he didn’t know the meaning of the words, the song captured him like none of the others had. It made him imagine a land of peace, where the forest was safe. Where the forest had no mist. It made him see peoples that. Worked wonders through unseen technology. As he walked through These places, he then started to feel tense. He felt as if beneath the peace and quiet was something not wanting to be seen. Then he was drawn back into reality as the bard continued in the calming, reassuring voice. When he ended, once again the audience was left in a silence. This time though they did not feel sad, they felt happy. Then they applauded. The bard bowed and thanked them unheard over the hands. He left the stage and went to sit in his back table. 

Peter looked at Liam, Grewd, and Tere. They said no words but gave earthier a look that said the same thing. Wow.

All around, everybody had finished their food and were heading down into the lower floor to sleep in the forest of bunks.

Peter decided to thank the bard personally, so he got up and weaved through the crowd, making his way to the other side of the room. He couldn’t see Bard through the people and when he finally got to the table he had been sitting at, he was no longer there. 

Peter looked around and saw the bard walking through the room. He called up to him, but the bard didn’t turn around. So he began weaving through the people again, trying to catch up to the bard. He didn’t know where he was going, until he saw the bard go out of the inner door. Had he left something in the cold room? Why…Peter got out of the thick of people, and opened the door. The bard wasn’t in there.

“What?” Peter said, surprised. Had he gone out?

Peter waited a moment thinking, and decided to go inside. Then he hesitated; the bard obviously didn’t understand. No one would just go out.

He opened the outer door and looked around. The black mist swirled around his feet. That feeling closed in. He felt like there was someone behind him. He felt like there was some danger, moving unseen. He strengthened himself. Closing the door behind him, he saw movement to his right, and recognized the dim shape of the bard, his cloak billowing behind him. He ran after him and only after half a minute realized the bard was running too. It was dark outside, and he was close to the bard. He called out. The bard slowed down and stopped. Peter caught up.

The bard looked at him incredulously.

“What are you doing!” He whispered. 

“I…” Peter was about to explain when he realized that… there were trees… all around him.

Peter stood shocked. How had he been that dumb. There was no way. Had he really not noticed the trees around him in the night. Then he began to panic. There were trees… he stared at the dead black mist swirling around him, then, trembling, he slowly looked up at the bard. 

Peter then noticed a large sideways tree trunk- no- tree branch, swing down next to them.

“Get up!” The bard practically shouted while still in a whisper. He jumped up onto the branch and held out a hand.

Somehow Peter knew that if he didn’t get on the branch in the next few seconds he would join the taken. He scrambled up to the bard, and hugged the branch as, while he was on it, it began moving again, and raised them both out of the mist. When the tree branch stopped moving, the bard stared down at Peter, who continued to hug the branch and tremble. After minutes passed, Peter finally got up slowly. He was balancing on a tree branch. The tree branch wasn’t like anything peter had seen. It was big. It was a yard thick. He marveled at it. The trees in the clearings: those that grew produce, only had branches a few inches thick. And, outside the clearings, they only reached a foot or so. 

The bard continued to stare at him. Peter looked up onto his eyes.

“What are you doing!” He repeated.

It was Peter’s turn to look at him as if he’d seen black mist in the sun. 

“I was trying to save your life! You ran into black mist! Everyone knows…” he trailed off. The bard looked at him. And raised an eyebrow.

“Including you?”

“I was trying to save you, and I had no intention of going out of the clearing!” Peter recovered himself for a moment, then continued. “I didn’t see the trees in the dark.” 

    “You were trying to save me?”

“Yes”

    “Huh”

    They waited. The bard was obviously thinking about something that peter didn’t know about, and Peter himself was starting to think about what he was going to do now that he was stranded-who-knows how many feet in the air on a tree branch in the dark outside of the clearing.

    “Bard, how do I… get back?”

    the bard snapped out of his thoughts and looked at peter.

    “I can get you down to the ground, then you walk through the mist all the way back.”

    Peter stared. “How do I actually get back?”

    “There is really no other way, unless you want to run. But I would recommend walking.”

    Peter, not sure where Bard was going with this, didn’t see walking into the mist as an option. As he thought about it, a thought struck him.

    “ Why did you go into the mist out of the clearing? Why did you leave?”

    The bard hesitated. “You should never walk into mist if you don’t have to.” I came to your Bighouse for a reason that I see is worth the risk.”

    “What could be worth the risk of dying?”

    “That, unfortunately, is not for you to know. But as for going back I would not recommend it tonight. Trying your luck in the mist isn’t worth it unless you know what you're doing. Even then, nearly all travelers don’t. You have options though. I must go on, but you can stay here until light, then find your way back to your clearing alone, or,” He hesitated as if battling with himself. “You can come with me.” 

          Peter contemplated. He was angry that he had followed the bard outside. He was angry that the bard seemed to care so little about what happened to him. Why did he even have to go?Although Peter felt this way, he shivered at the thought of being left alone in the dark and mist. 

          “If I come with you, can I still go back to my clearing?

          “I’ll send you with the best merchant.”

Peter decided any company would be better than none. And how would he even get down from here. What direction was the clearing? If he could find his way back, it would be much worse.

          “I’ll come with you.” He said in a defeated time.

    The bard turned and started walking on the branch away from peter.

Peter stood there. He hadn’t thought about how they would go. so he, feeling very insecure, took his first few steps. Then almost tripped. When he was stable again, he took a few more steps. Balance- walking on a tree branch was much harder than he thought. And it was not smooth. There were bumps and ridges and valleys, not to mention the bark growing in various patterns and bulges.

As Peter concentrated on not falling off, he realized that Bard was not in front of him. He stopped at a decently stable part of the branch.

“Bard!”

There was no answer. He looked around frantically. Had he really been deserted? Now he was even further from home. There was no chance of return. Then he heard someone clear their throat behind him. He whirled around to empty air. Had he imagined that? He looked around again and saw Bard on another branch, running in a different direction, beneath him. The branch was about seven feet down, and ten feet away.

Of course. The bard's eyes told Peter that he already knew what he had to do. Jump. A resolve like black mist entering a clearing settled in his mind for a fraction of a second. He wouldn’t jump. Then, like black mist at dawn, he dismissed it. What else could he do? So before he could talk himself out of it, he leapt off the branch. 

He was way too short. He hit the side of the branch with his chest, and luckily found deep grooves in the bark that he shoved his hands into. This branch was even bigger than the other, which didn't help. It was like a wall, but with no definite top to get a foot on. Peter screamed and hung, straining to hold on. The bard stuck his head over the side and looked down at him. 

The bard spoke quickly. “Need a hand? Sorry. Sarcasm. When I give you my hand do not let go of the branch completely or you'll pull both of us down. Hold on to it and use your other hand to help pull yourself up.”  

The words fell uselessly to Peter who was still screaming, and impatient for help. He nodded, not caring what the bard said. The bard lowered his hand and Peter let go of the branch completely and put both his hands on the bard’s. He felt Bard lurch down. Somehow still on the branch, Bard grunted as he was squeezed into it by the weight of Peter pulling him down. Bard wheezed out something indecipherable. He blinked. Then again then again. On the third he hoisted at peter. Peter hoisted back, and they managed to lift him a foot. The bard had lost leverage somehow. And Peter was slowly being lowered. He groped for something his foot could go on, and found a small stumpy branch. He kicked at it and got a foothold  successfully on the second try. With that he managed to lessen the strain.

“Pull- now!”

They heaved and Peter went up another foot and a half. Then the bard had his leverage again, and he was able to pull him up all the way.

They sat on the branch for a minute. Peter felt the full shock of almost dying, again. When he began to recover, he saw that Bard had been standing on completely smooth wood with no holds. He wondered how Bard had stayed on. Then the bard got up abruptly and started walking.

“Sorry about that. There shouldn’t be anything too bad from now on.”

He waded away through the darkness, and Peter once again questioned what he was doing there. He also was once again reminded that he didn't have an option. So he got up and followed. 

There you go and congratulations if you got here with the spoiler box open!

[Scars of Hathsin he/him]

That is really good, and I really enjoyed it.

Good Job on putting on the shard, I want to one day put a book on here.

[RaeTheRaven]

Nice. Would you like some feedback?

[Edema Rue she/her]

Bravo, Wit!! 

(yes I’m in class)

(yes I read that whole thing anyway)

[ΨιτιsτηεΒέsτ he/him]

5 hours ago, RaeTheRaven said:

Nice. Would you like some feedback?

Give all feedback! Although I do know there are a few grammar mistakes.

But please give feedback. And note that I already have a very detailed outline for the entire book, and quite a few more chapters written after this one, so some things that don’t get explained will get explained later. However still ask about them because they might be something that I do need to explain more.

[RaeTheRaven]

4 hours ago, ΨιτιsτηεΒέsτ said:

Give all feedback! Although I do know there are a few grammar mistakes.

But please give feedback. And note that I already have a very detailed outline for the entire book, and quite a few more chapters written after this one, so some things that don’t get explained will get explained later. However still ask about them because they might be something that I do need to explain more.

Nah, I don't consider pointing out typos to be particularly useful feedback, especially in earlier drafts. 

I also don't think there is any issue with things not being explained. Nobody picks up a book and expects everything to be explained in chapter 1. There would be no point in reading the rest of the book then!

I actually think the opposite. There is a little bit too much information and I found that it hindered the flow of the chapter a bit and it took away from the things that are really important. Obviously, I've only read this one chapter, but it seems to me that there are 3 main points of interest in this chapter. Three things that it's important for the reader to take away.

1. This inn/bar/whatever it is is unusually crowded on this night for some reason.

2. There's something strange about the bard.

3. The fog is evil. 

These to me are the things that stood out and that caught my interest. You start with "Another came in." This to me suggests that this is a somewhat unusual occurrence or something noteworthy. I think it's a good way to start, it grabs the attention and makes me wonder "Oh, why is this something noteworthy?". However, you then proceed to name 5 characters that do absolutely nothing the entire chapter and are (as far as I can tell) completely irrelevant (at least in this chapter). When I start a book and the first few sentences contain the names of 5 characters, I expect (and I think this is generally what most readers would expect) that those characters matter and I dedicate some amount of brain space to remembering their names and looking out for why they might be important. So generally, I would say it's a bad idea to introduce irrelevant characters by name so early on. I wouldn't even introduce more prominent side characters by name until they at least have some role to play in the story.  

The next thing you do is have a really long paragraph in which you describe the layout of the room and why it's laid out like this. I know that this is information that is relevant to the story and even to what happens later in the chapter, but just having it in a big chunk of text really pulled me out of the story. And all the interest that the first sentence generated was lost by the time I was done reading it. It would be a lot more engaging if this information was presented in a way that actually kept the reader in the story and that also amplified that initial curiosity sparked by the beginning. One way you could do that would be to have the four newcomers maybe linger in the doorway a bit too long. Peter could get impatient with them and wave them in, maybe gesturing to shut the door to prevent the heat from going into the cold room. Then perhaps as he greets them or writes their name in the ledger or whatever, he could maybe make some remark to them about always leaving the inner door open or about how difficult it is to keep the entrance cold. Or maybe some banter about not letting them in next time or something, since these people know each other (as far as I can tell).

This would also just make them seem more like... people. More relatable. And that kind of ties in with my second piece of feedback. Which is that the characters don't really act very naturally. Like for example, when Bard comes in, peter immediately notices him and notices that there's something strange about him. But we don't see anyone else really react to him until the music bit. It would make sense for a bunch of people who all know each other to be curious about the arrival of a stranger. Especially of one who behaves in an unusual way (like sitting in the corner, which everyone clearly avoids). Having the room at large react to him, maybe some muttering going on, people craning their necks to see him or whatever, would make Peter's curiosity about him seem more natural and it would also build up anticipation.

Another example where Peter's behaviour just feels very unnatural and makes it feel contrived is when he runs out after the Bard and doesn't even notice he's run out of the clearing. First of all, he barely had any interaction with the Bard. It doesn't really make sense that he would risk his life to go after him. But even if let's say, Peter is just a very altruistic person and would do that, his father owns the inn. He's lived or at least worked there perhaps most of his life. It would take a lot more than a stranger running to make him forget how big his clearing is. Especially that from the text, it feels like there was barely any time between him leaving the inn and him ending up among the trees. It kind of feels like they ran 10 steps or something. It also doesn't seem to me like the natural choice that he should want to follow a stranger with unknown motives to an unknown destination instead of sitting in a tree that isn't far from home and where he knows he's safe for a few hours. It just doesn't seem like the way any sensible person would behave. 

So yeah, to summarise all of this in two concise points that I think if you kept in mind, it would really improve the story.  

1. Only deliver information that the reader needs to know and not too long before they need to know it and try to deliver it in a way that is engaging and that maybe showcases your characters' personalities a little.

2. Think about getting your characters to where you want them to be in ways that feel natural and believable that a real person would act in that way or do the things that they do. 

Hope this was helpful

Edited October 12, 2023 by RaeTheRaven

[ΨιτιsτηεΒέsτ he/him]

8 minutes ago, RaeTheRaven said:

Nah, I don't consider pointing out typos to be particularly useful feedback, especially in earlier drafts. 

I also don't think there is any issue with things not being explained. Nobody picks up a book and expects everything to be explained in chapter 1. There would be no point in reading the rest of the book then!

I actually think the opposite. There is a little bit too much information and I found that it hindered the flow of the chapter a bit and it took away from the things that are really important. Obviously, I've only read this one chapter, but it seems to me that there are 3 main points of interest in this chapter. Three things that it's important for the reader to take away.

1. This inn/bar/whatever it is is unusually crowded on this night for some reason.

2. There's something strange about the bard.

3. The fog is evil. 

These to me are the things that stood out and that caught my interest. You start with "Another came in." This to me suggests that this is a somewhat unusual occurrence or something noteworthy. I think it's a good way to start, it grabs the attention and makes me wonder "Oh, why is this something noteworthy?". However, you then proceed to name 5 characters that do absolutely nothing the entire chapter and are (as far as I can tell) completely irrelevant (at least in this chapter). When I start a book and the first few sentences contain the names of 5 characters, I expect (and I think this is generally what most readers would expect) that those characters matter and I dedicate some amount of brain space to remembering their names and looking out for why they might be important. So generally, I would say it's a bad idea to introduce irrelevant characters by name so early on. I wouldn't even introduce more prominent side characters by name until they at least have some role to play in the story.  

The next thing you do is have a really long paragraph in which you describe the layout of the room and why it's laid out like this. I know that this is information that is relevant to the story and even to what happens later in the chapter, but just having it in a big chunk of text really pulled me out of the story. And all the interest that the first sentence generated was lost by the time I was done reading it. It would be a lot more engaging if this information was presented in a way that actually kept the reader in the story and that also amplified that initial curiosity sparked by the beginning. One way you could do that would be to have the four newcomers maybe linger in the doorway a bit too long. Peter could get impatient with them and wave them in, maybe gesturing to shut the door to prevent the heat from going into the cold room. Then perhaps as he greets them or writes their name in the ledger or whatever, he could maybe make some remark to them about always leaving the inner door open or about how difficult it is to keep the entrance cold. Or maybe some banter about not letting them in next time or something, since these people know each other (as far as I can tell).

This would also just make them seem more like... people. More relatable. And that kind of ties in with my second piece of feedback. Which is that the characters don't really act very naturally. Like for example, when Bard comes in, peter immediately notices him and notices that there's something strange about him. But we don't see anyone else really react to him until the music bit. It would make sense for a bunch of people who all know each other to be curious about the arrival of a stranger. Especially of one who behaves in an unusual way (like sitting in the corner, which everyone clearly avoids). Having the room at large react to him, maybe some muttering going on, people craning their necks to see him or whatever, would make Peter's curiosity about him seem more natural and it would also build up anticipation.

Another example where Peter's behaviour just feels very unnatural and makes it feel contrived is when he runs out after the Bard and doesn't even notice he's run out of the clearing. First of all, he barely had any interaction with the Bard. It doesn't really make sense that he would risk his life to go after him. But even if let's say, Peter is just a very altruistic person and would do that, his father owns the inn. He's lived or at least worked there perhaps most of his life. It would take a lot more than a stranger running to make him forget how big his clearing is. Especially that from the text, it feels like there was barely any time between him leaving the inn and him ending up among the trees. It kind of feels like they ran 10 steps or something. It also doesn't seem to me like the natural choice that he should want to follow a stranger with unknown motives to an unknown destination instead of sitting in a tree that isn't far from home and where he knows he's safe for a few hours. It just doesn't seem like the way any sensible person would behave. 

So yeah, to summarise all of this in two concise points that I think if you kept in mind, it would really improve the story.  

1. Only deliver information that the reader needs to know and not too long before they need to know it and try to deliver it in a way that is engaging and that maybe showcases your characters' personalities a little.

2. Think about getting your characters to where you want them to be in ways that feel natural and believable that a real person would act in that way or do the things that they do. 

Hope this was helpful

I love it, and I totally agree with these points. Anything you say is really helpful to me. So really thank you. I am off to do some edits!

[RaeTheRaven]

My pleasure. Sometimes having people point out this stuff helps a lot. So I'm glad I could help. I look forward to seeing how this evolves.  

[InvestedDragonLJ]

First off, I really enjoyed your writing style and Peter’s adventurous spirit is really well written. The bard and the mists are both mysterious. I am excited to see where this goes.

[ΨιτιsτηεΒέsτ he/him]

20 minutes ago, InvestedDragonLJ said:

First off, I really enjoyed your writing style and Peter’s adventurous spirit is really well written. The bard and the mists are both mysterious. I am excited to see where this goes.

Thank you!

[ΨιτιsτηεΒέsτ he/him]

Here is chapter two! Sorry to make you guys wait for 4 months… I appreciate all feedback, and there are grammar errors. 
 

Spoiler

2

 

 

 

 

 

I think, when I finish my project— well, when I finish my quest, I will pay Olden a visit. After all, he may be my only chance to retrieve what has been broken and neglected. And I am more and more convinced that it is necessary.

 

 

They switched branches many times as they made their way through the huge forest, but like bard had said, none of them were as big  distances as that one. They had no major problems other than Peter being slow, which was due to his lack of experience walking in trees. When the first sign of light began to show through the branches seemingly miles up, the bard announced that they were near his camp. At this, Peter felt an inexplicable feeling of relief. He figured one of the travelers down there could guide him back to his clearing. 

The light had another effect. What was shrouded in darkness before now sprang to life around peter. He saw huge trees, twisting in and out of each other, creating a three dimensional labyrinth. They were huge, some stretching hundreds of feet in all directions.the morning sun made them seem like streams of light, ripping through the air like lightning. 

Peter looked downwards and saw the camp. It was on a particularly big tree, where the trunk split up into five main parts, there was a moderately level and decently sized open area. There were  seven or so tents scattered over the plateau, both in the middle and on nearby branches.

Peter had been expecting a group of thirty at least. Not a few tents. They went down to the camp, jumping from branch to branch. They had to go on a particularly small one as a half step to reach a larger one. Peter was getting used to the way you could trust these branches; They Were different from those in clearings. When they got to the bottom, Peter looked around. He didn’t see anyone. Then Bard muttered something and they heard a clash behind them. A man about the same height stepped out from behind the furthest tent. 

“Conor!” The bard called to him. “Where is everyone?”

“Mind your own business!”

“No…” The bard said, looking exasperated.

“You really think… you fool.” Conor spat at him, then turned away. “I had to wait here for you! And of course, you brought a guest.” With that he walked into one of the green tent, on the outside of the area.

The bard sat down in a ring of mats in the center of the camp that Peter hadn’t seen earlier. Peter joined him. They didn’t talk but just sat there. The bard pulled out a block of some sort of rock, and began sharpening his sword. The sound of this stone scraping along the blade, steadily and piercingly, summoned a cry from inside the green tent, but Bard ignored it. Peter sat, looking around and absorbed his surroundings. 

As he was admiring the forest, he heard a noise out past the camp. Then he heard faint talking from the ground below. He went to the edge of the camp, and peered down. He saw three people climbing onto a branch that led  up to another branch— to the one that where Peter and Bard. They came towards the camp, carrying logs and tree branches walking as if they owned the place.

As they got nearer, Peter watched the man in front of the three hand back his small bundle of sticks to the man behind him, then came up to Peter wiping his dark black shirt and pants off. He looked at him confused for a moment, then spoke.

“I’ll just take the message. We're doing great. Whose is it from?”

Peter blinked. The man stood in front of him. They were about the same height, but this man gave off an air that he didn’t not like to be disobeyed.

“Hello? Who is it from?”

“Uh…”

“He is not a messenger. He is a companion that I have brought to join us until we go back to Erber”

“Well he is not welcome.” The man went into a tent.

“Ignore Donarin,” The bard told Peter. “He is just like that.”

The other three men came to camp. They had heard Bard’s introduction and two of them came to Peter. The third went to another one of the tents.

“A new member of our company eh? We’ll have to change the name.” He said sadly. What do you think, Penny?

It took Peter a moment to realize they were asking him.

“I’m not penny…”

They waited. Then the one who hadn’t spoken yet lowered his head and shook it. 

“No… Sewdor… no…”

The first turned to the other.. “Why else would he have come?”

“No…”they both turned back to Peter. 

“I am Sewdor.” said the first one. He was wearing all white, and had a sword in his belt. 

I am Sewdervor, his brother.” said the other. He was wearing a brown shirt and dark brown pants. He had a bow sling on his back, and a quiver of arrows over it. 

“Welcome” Sewdor told him “to our group of travelers, who are set on a dangerous quest of… what are we doing again?”

“We are returning from a trading route. And running from an Ugna, who are currently tracking, and chasing us as we try to get back to the Erber place as fast as we can.” Sewdervor said.

Peter looked at them. “An Ugna! What are we doing here then?”

Sewdor turned and started towards the ring of mats, where the bard was sitting, having finished sharpening his sword.”Nah, we’re fine.” He sat, put his hands behind his head and leaned back  to a log. Sewdervor joined him.

Peter didn't know what to do. So he stood. He just waited. He watched another person come  into the camp, and go into tents. After what felt like hours, he sat down next to the bard.

The bard looked at him, and quickly put away a paper he had been scribbling on. “Do you want to know who everyone is?

“That would be very nice.” Peter replied. 

The bards sat up. “You have met Conor, Donarin, Sewdor, and Sewdervor, but you have not met Dearkavel– we call him Deark. He is back there in his tent. He plans out most of the stuff we do. You also have not met Pris or Gris. They are climbing above us keeping lookout for that Ugna Sewdervor mentioned earlier. 

“On that topic,” Deark, Peter presumed, said as he emerged from his tent. “Why is a group of Kians chasing us? It kind of messes up our plans. Those guys never just follow travelers unless it is for a reason.”

“Yes, he’s right,” Sewdervor said. “They only follow people for a reason.”

“Conor’s stench is so bad that they probably find it appetizing.” Sewdor supplied, only to get an annoyed growl from one of the tents. 

They each looked at the bard.

“What? Don’t ask me. If anyone would know it would be the leader of this group, and that is not me.” He said.

“You should be…” Sewdor mumbled under his breath nearly inaudible. His brother glared at him.

They all turned to Donarin emerging from his tent in a storm of rustling . Peter noticed the bard put a hand on the side of his shirt, under his arm, like he was feeling something. 

“I happened to hear that last thing.” He spoke, walking towards them. 

Sewdor paled. 

I should know the answer because I am the leader. If anyone would it would be me. 

Sewdor regained color.

“So why do they follow us?” Sewdervor asked, even provoking the interest of Conor head poking out of his tent.

Donarin hesitated. “It doesn’t matter.” He walked back to his tent, then walked back and sat down in the same ring the rest were sitting in. Sewdor rolled his eyes, then he and Bard seemed to sense Peter’s nervousness and they both turned to him.

“Don't worry they are a few days behind us so if we travel easily but steadily we will beat them back to Erber place.” The bard looked into Peter’s eyes. “Don't worry,” he repeated. You… will make it back to your clearing safe and timely.” He looked down.

It was beginning to grow dimmer under the many layers of tree canopies overhead. The days almost felt shorter to Peter, with the late dusk light never reaching the ground, and the early rays likewise. 

The two people that Bard mentioned earlier came down from the overhead maze. They were both large. Like really just buff. They wore the same simple brown clothes like the bard. As they passed Peter they each gave him a nod, but besides that,  they carried the wood the others had brought to the middle of the circle of mats. 

The bard opened his mouth. 

“No Donarin said forcefully. We will burn this wood and have a campfire.” He looked Bard in the eyes. 

“Please.”

Donarin looked irritated. “I’m tired of this fight, Bard. Apparently my command as the leader of this group is not enough. It should be. I grow tired of your pleadings.” he paused, then cocked his head. “You know what? If you give me one good reason,” He mocked kindness. “To not have campfires, we won’t. The kians are far behind so it isn't that, and they really don't need a fire to know where we are, so what is it? Is this just selfishness? A petty fight with your betters?”

All looked at Bard. He said nothing.

 “He don't really need a fire…” Sewdor’s comment was ignored, and the silence continued.

They started the fire and the rest of the group came out. Bard left into the darkness. A moment later, Sewdor left as well.

For Peter, the fire was heavenly. It reminded him of the Bighouse— his home. The flames brought back memories of warmth that seemed like months ago, not a day. The warmth gave him a sort of safe feeling. He could retreat there. Outside of the forest he longed for the cozy room. He longed for the smell of good food. He sat there, entranced. Why would people not want a fire?

He sat there much longer than he realized. Eventually he snapped out of his imaginary place.. Bard stood over him. Peter jumped and when he looked at the fire, there wasn’t one. Somehow. But before he could wonder, Bard took him by the arm and pulled him to his feet. It’s been a long time that you have been sitting there. Peter looked around and realized he was the only one outside besides the Bard. 

“Why don’t you want a fire?” Peter blurted.

Bard looked at him. “It’s complicated, but maybe I’ll tell you sometime. You must be tired though.”

Peter felt a wave of drowsiness wash over him. He did feel tired. Where was he going to sleep? The bard ushered him towards a tent. Peter, barely awake now, stumbled in. He fell onto a mat, where he lay down and closed his eyes. Then he fell asleep inside of his head, surging.for some reason he fought it. He lifted his eyelids. There, outside the tent, through the slit of two curtains, the bard wrote in a price of paper. He finished, and raised it into the air. He held it there for a moment, then, in a flash, it burst into a flame which vanished into the air. Then the bard walked away, and Peter let sleep overtake him.

Thanks for reading!

[The Stormfather He/Him]

On 10/12/2023 at 10:22 AM, Edema Rue said:

Bravo, Wit!! 

(yes I’m in class)

(yes I read that whole thing anyway)

SAME!!!!!!

[ΨιτιsτηεΒέsτ he/him]

28 minutes ago, The Stormfather said:

SAME!!!!!!

Thanks!

[RaeTheRaven]

On 1/24/2024 at 5:58 AM, ΨιτιsτηεΒέsτ said:

Here is chapter two! Sorry to make you guys wait for 4 months… I appreciate all feedback, and there are grammar errors. 
 

  Reveal hidden contents

2

 

 

 

 

 

I think, when I finish my project— well, when I finish my quest, I will pay Olden a visit. After all, he may be my only chance to retrieve what has been broken and neglected. And I am more and more convinced that it is necessary.

 

 

They switched branches many times as they made their way through the huge forest, but like bard had said, none of them were as big  distances as that one. They had no major problems other than Peter being slow, which was due to his lack of experience walking in trees. When the first sign of light began to show through the branches seemingly miles up, the bard announced that they were near his camp. At this, Peter felt an inexplicable feeling of relief. He figured one of the travelers down there could guide him back to his clearing. 

The light had another effect. What was shrouded in darkness before now sprang to life around peter. He saw huge trees, twisting in and out of each other, creating a three dimensional labyrinth. They were huge, some stretching hundreds of feet in all directions.the morning sun made them seem like streams of light, ripping through the air like lightning. 

Peter looked downwards and saw the camp. It was on a particularly big tree, where the trunk split up into five main parts, there was a moderately level and decently sized open area. There were  seven or so tents scattered over the plateau, both in the middle and on nearby branches.

Peter had been expecting a group of thirty at least. Not a few tents. They went down to the camp, jumping from branch to branch. They had to go on a particularly small one as a half step to reach a larger one. Peter was getting used to the way you could trust these branches; They Were different from those in clearings. When they got to the bottom, Peter looked around. He didn’t see anyone. Then Bard muttered something and they heard a clash behind them. A man about the same height stepped out from behind the furthest tent. 

“Conor!” The bard called to him. “Where is everyone?”

“Mind your own business!”

“No…” The bard said, looking exasperated.

“You really think… you fool.” Conor spat at him, then turned away. “I had to wait here for you! And of course, you brought a guest.” With that he walked into one of the green tent, on the outside of the area.

The bard sat down in a ring of mats in the center of the camp that Peter hadn’t seen earlier. Peter joined him. They didn’t talk but just sat there. The bard pulled out a block of some sort of rock, and began sharpening his sword. The sound of this stone scraping along the blade, steadily and piercingly, summoned a cry from inside the green tent, but Bard ignored it. Peter sat, looking around and absorbed his surroundings. 

As he was admiring the forest, he heard a noise out past the camp. Then he heard faint talking from the ground below. He went to the edge of the camp, and peered down. He saw three people climbing onto a branch that led  up to another branch— to the one that where Peter and Bard. They came towards the camp, carrying logs and tree branches walking as if they owned the place.

As they got nearer, Peter watched the man in front of the three hand back his small bundle of sticks to the man behind him, then came up to Peter wiping his dark black shirt and pants off. He looked at him confused for a moment, then spoke.

“I’ll just take the message. We're doing great. Whose is it from?”

Peter blinked. The man stood in front of him. They were about the same height, but this man gave off an air that he didn’t not like to be disobeyed.

“Hello? Who is it from?”

“Uh…”

“He is not a messenger. He is a companion that I have brought to join us until we go back to Erber”

“Well he is not welcome.” The man went into a tent.

“Ignore Donarin,” The bard told Peter. “He is just like that.”

The other three men came to camp. They had heard Bard’s introduction and two of them came to Peter. The third went to another one of the tents.

“A new member of our company eh? We’ll have to change the name.” He said sadly. What do you think, Penny?

It took Peter a moment to realize they were asking him.

“I’m not penny…”

They waited. Then the one who hadn’t spoken yet lowered his head and shook it. 

“No… Sewdor… no…”

The first turned to the other.. “Why else would he have come?”

“No…”they both turned back to Peter. 

“I am Sewdor.” said the first one. He was wearing all white, and had a sword in his belt. 

I am Sewdervor, his brother.” said the other. He was wearing a brown shirt and dark brown pants. He had a bow sling on his back, and a quiver of arrows over it. 

“Welcome” Sewdor told him “to our group of travelers, who are set on a dangerous quest of… what are we doing again?”

“We are returning from a trading route. And running from an Ugna, who are currently tracking, and chasing us as we try to get back to the Erber place as fast as we can.” Sewdervor said.

Peter looked at them. “An Ugna! What are we doing here then?”

Sewdor turned and started towards the ring of mats, where the bard was sitting, having finished sharpening his sword.”Nah, we’re fine.” He sat, put his hands behind his head and leaned back  to a log. Sewdervor joined him.

Peter didn't know what to do. So he stood. He just waited. He watched another person come  into the camp, and go into tents. After what felt like hours, he sat down next to the bard.

The bard looked at him, and quickly put away a paper he had been scribbling on. “Do you want to know who everyone is?

“That would be very nice.” Peter replied. 

The bards sat up. “You have met Conor, Donarin, Sewdor, and Sewdervor, but you have not met Dearkavel– we call him Deark. He is back there in his tent. He plans out most of the stuff we do. You also have not met Pris or Gris. They are climbing above us keeping lookout for that Ugna Sewdervor mentioned earlier. 

“On that topic,” Deark, Peter presumed, said as he emerged from his tent. “Why is a group of Kians chasing us? It kind of messes up our plans. Those guys never just follow travelers unless it is for a reason.”

“Yes, he’s right,” Sewdervor said. “They only follow people for a reason.”

“Conor’s stench is so bad that they probably find it appetizing.” Sewdor supplied, only to get an annoyed growl from one of the tents. 

They each looked at the bard.

“What? Don’t ask me. If anyone would know it would be the leader of this group, and that is not me.” He said.

“You should be…” Sewdor mumbled under his breath nearly inaudible. His brother glared at him.

They all turned to Donarin emerging from his tent in a storm of rustling . Peter noticed the bard put a hand on the side of his shirt, under his arm, like he was feeling something. 

“I happened to hear that last thing.” He spoke, walking towards them. 

Sewdor paled. 

I should know the answer because I am the leader. If anyone would it would be me. 

Sewdor regained color.

“So why do they follow us?” Sewdervor asked, even provoking the interest of Conor head poking out of his tent.

Donarin hesitated. “It doesn’t matter.” He walked back to his tent, then walked back and sat down in the same ring the rest were sitting in. Sewdor rolled his eyes, then he and Bard seemed to sense Peter’s nervousness and they both turned to him.

“Don't worry they are a few days behind us so if we travel easily but steadily we will beat them back to Erber place.” The bard looked into Peter’s eyes. “Don't worry,” he repeated. You… will make it back to your clearing safe and timely.” He looked down.

It was beginning to grow dimmer under the many layers of tree canopies overhead. The days almost felt shorter to Peter, with the late dusk light never reaching the ground, and the early rays likewise. 

The two people that Bard mentioned earlier came down from the overhead maze. They were both large. Like really just buff. They wore the same simple brown clothes like the bard. As they passed Peter they each gave him a nod, but besides that,  they carried the wood the others had brought to the middle of the circle of mats. 

The bard opened his mouth. 

“No Donarin said forcefully. We will burn this wood and have a campfire.” He looked Bard in the eyes. 

“Please.”

Donarin looked irritated. “I’m tired of this fight, Bard. Apparently my command as the leader of this group is not enough. It should be. I grow tired of your pleadings.” he paused, then cocked his head. “You know what? If you give me one good reason,” He mocked kindness. “To not have campfires, we won’t. The kians are far behind so it isn't that, and they really don't need a fire to know where we are, so what is it? Is this just selfishness? A petty fight with your betters?”

All looked at Bard. He said nothing.

 “He don't really need a fire…” Sewdor’s comment was ignored, and the silence continued.

They started the fire and the rest of the group came out. Bard left into the darkness. A moment later, Sewdor left as well.

For Peter, the fire was heavenly. It reminded him of the Bighouse— his home. The flames brought back memories of warmth that seemed like months ago, not a day. The warmth gave him a sort of safe feeling. He could retreat there. Outside of the forest he longed for the cozy room. He longed for the smell of good food. He sat there, entranced. Why would people not want a fire?

He sat there much longer than he realized. Eventually he snapped out of his imaginary place.. Bard stood over him. Peter jumped and when he looked at the fire, there wasn’t one. Somehow. But before he could wonder, Bard took him by the arm and pulled him to his feet. It’s been a long time that you have been sitting there. Peter looked around and realized he was the only one outside besides the Bard. 

“Why don’t you want a fire?” Peter blurted.

Bard looked at him. “It’s complicated, but maybe I’ll tell you sometime. You must be tired though.”

Peter felt a wave of drowsiness wash over him. He did feel tired. Where was he going to sleep? The bard ushered him towards a tent. Peter, barely awake now, stumbled in. He fell onto a mat, where he lay down and closed his eyes. Then he fell asleep inside of his head, surging.for some reason he fought it. He lifted his eyelids. There, outside the tent, through the slit of two curtains, the bard wrote in a price of paper. He finished, and raised it into the air. He held it there for a moment, then, in a flash, it burst into a flame which vanished into the air. Then the bard walked away, and Peter let sleep overtake him.

Thanks for reading!

As requested, here is some feedback. I think this time around, I have two main points of feedback.

1. There isn't really a sense of time passing. Things just... happen one after the other and it's hard to tell how much time passes between each thing happening and the next. You tell the reader that time has passed by saying that the sun rose or set, but nothing else in the text suggests that to the reader. One example would be at the start of the chapter, you have around 2 sentences that cover the entire night. You say they moved from branch to branch many times, that Peter was slow and then the sun rises as they reach the camp. You could add small things that could suggest the passage of time to the reader. Maybe mentioning that Peter started feeling sore after a while for example. Or that his shirt was soaked with sweat. Just small things that can ground the reader into the scene and make it feel like time is passing. And the same throughout the chapter. Try to add more cues that show how much time passes. Maybe people fidgeting during a conversation if it takes a long time. Or starting to feel hungry or cold or hot or whatever. 

1.2 This one is kind of a sub-point of the first one. It's also really hard to understand where things and people are in space. I think this partially has to do with the lack of feeling of time passing. Because it feels like everything just happens one after the other, it's really hard to keep track of who and what is where, because the reader is not really grounded in the scene in terms of time and space. You give a lot of information about so and so being in one place or the other, sometimes very specific information, but it's just hard to follow. Try to take some time to ground the reader in the scene, both in terms of time and space. 

2. We get no internal monologue from Peter. I have no idea what he thinks or feels about any of this. This means that there is just no personality to the prose. It's just a chronicle saying "this happened then this happened then this happened". Peter is not really relevant in a way, and there's nothing to make the reader connect with him as a character. Another consequence of this is that it's a bit unclear what Peter knows and what he doesn't know. For example, they say they're being followed by an Ugna. I'm getting the impression that whatever an Ugna is, peter has heard of them and it's something scary. But we don't really see that from his internal monologue. For example if he, upon hearing of the Ugna, felt his stomach clench in fear and maybe even recall some scary fact he's heard about them like perhaps his grandmother told him stories of them eating souls when he was a child, or something. Then the reader would a) get the information that ugnas are scary and b) would feel more engaged with the fact that an ugna is chasing them because you've created some tension. Similarly, when you mention that some Kians are chasing them, it's unclear to me if Peter has any idea what they're talking about. If he has no idea what or who Kians are, he could maybe have some internal monologue expressing his bemusement or confusion. If he does know, then some internal monologue indicating that. Same with the campfire thing. It's clear that you're trying to make a point of that, but Peter's lack of internal monologue just makes it hard to care. 

So to summarise:

1. Make sure to ground the reader in your scenes in both time and space. Give cues to indicate the passage of time and not just that a certain point in time has been reached (e.g. sunrise or sunset), and the movement in through space (either from point A to B, or in place such as fidgeting, looking around, gesturing etc).

2. Give the PoV character internal monologue. You can use this to give the reader some information as well as make the PoV character more relatable. 

[ΨιτιsτηεΒέsτ he/him]

6 hours ago, RaeTheRaven said:

As requested, here is some feedback. I think this time around, I have two main points of feedback.

1. There isn't really a sense of time passing. Things just... happen one after the other and it's hard to tell how much time passes between each thing happening and the next. You tell the reader that time has passed by saying that the sun rose or set, but nothing else in the text suggests that to the reader. One example would be at the start of the chapter, you have around 2 sentences that cover the entire night. You say they moved from branch to branch many times, that Peter was slow and then the sun rises as they reach the camp. You could add small things that could suggest the passage of time to the reader. Maybe mentioning that Peter started feeling sore after a while for example. Or that his shirt was soaked with sweat. Just small things that can ground the reader into the scene and make it feel like time is passing. And the same throughout the chapter. Try to add more cues that show how much time passes. Maybe people fidgeting during a conversation if it takes a long time. Or starting to feel hungry or cold or hot or whatever. 

1.2 This one is kind of a sub-point of the first one. It's also really hard to understand where things and people are in space. I think this partially has to do with the lack of feeling of time passing. Because it feels like everything just happens one after the other, it's really hard to keep track of who and what is where, because the reader is not really grounded in the scene in terms of time and space. You give a lot of information about so and so being in one place or the other, sometimes very specific information, but it's just hard to follow. Try to take some time to ground the reader in the scene, both in terms of time and space. 

2. We get no internal monologue from Peter. I have no idea what he thinks or feels about any of this. This means that there is just no personality to the prose. It's just a chronicle saying "this happened then this happened then this happened". Peter is not really relevant in a way, and there's nothing to make the reader connect with him as a character. Another consequence of this is that it's a bit unclear what Peter knows and what he doesn't know. For example, they say they're being followed by an Ugna. I'm getting the impression that whatever an Ugna is, peter has heard of them and it's something scary. But we don't really see that from his internal monologue. For example if he, upon hearing of the Ugna, felt his stomach clench in fear and maybe even recall some scary fact he's heard about them like perhaps his grandmother told him stories of them eating souls when he was a child, or something. Then the reader would a) get the information that ugnas are scary and b) would feel more engaged with the fact that an ugna is chasing them because you've created some tension. Similarly, when you mention that some Kians are chasing them, it's unclear to me if Peter has any idea what they're talking about. If he has no idea what or who Kians are, he could maybe have some internal monologue expressing his bemusement or confusion. If he does know, then some internal monologue indicating that. Same with the campfire thing. It's clear that you're trying to make a point of that, but Peter's lack of internal monologue just makes it hard to care. 

So to summarise:

1. Make sure to ground the reader in your scenes in both time and space. Give cues to indicate the passage of time and not just that a certain point in time has been reached (e.g. sunrise or sunset), and the movement in through space (either from point A to B, or in place such as fidgeting, looking around, gesturing etc).

2. Give the PoV character internal monologue. You can use this to give the reader some information as well as make the PoV character more relatable. 

I agree with these. I have noticed myself get batter at the second point. I need to return to some of these earlier chapters to add to them. Thanks for the feedback!