8 Ball - Into the Woods

Jarreau bristled at the implication of Daubigny's question. "Of course I do! But the only place you're going is into some cursed black hole in the ground, or else a coffin if you persist in this. Is that what you want?"

Daubigny opened his mouth to speak and then shut it again. Black hole or a coffin? He had assumed at first the black hole meant burial, but if a coffin was the alternative... "Black hole? Do you mean they have one of those oubliette sort of things?" He blinked in groggy horror at their fiendish captors.

Chevenier almost laughed at the comical look of horror on Daubigny's face.

"No," he said, "they do not have an oubliette." Jarreau had made several good points, however, and they gave him pause. However much the idea had initially excited him, it was ill-conceived and illogical.

"We are being over-hasty," he acknowledged with a nod. "Perhaps more talk can come of this when you are more sober."

"I don't want to wait!" Daubigny exclaimed. "We must escape now, NOW!
What difference will it make if we wait till later? What difference
will it make if I'm more sober? Let us flee now while we can!"

Jarreau folded his arms across his chest. "Are you quite finished?" he demanded dryly, "Or do you require a nursemaid?"

Daubigny snorted. "No, I most certainly do not require a nursemaid." Then his eyes mellowed with a soft light. "Although, a woman would be most enjoyable company. What say we go to town to find women! And THEN escape!"

"You may certainly do that, sir," Chevenier said stiffly, "but you may count me out of your plan. I've no interest in drunken whoring."

Or in pursuing women of any sort. The only woman he had interest in was miles away back in France. He frowned at his friend.

"Perhaps Jarreau is correct, and we should find you a minder."

He bristled. "I do not need a minder!" he said emphatically. "I can manage perfectly well on my - did you hear that?" He gasped and half ducked behind a tree.

Jarreau had heard nothing, but nevertheless his hand went to his side in search of some non-existent weapon and for the second time in ten minutes he wished he had a stick in hand. "What did you hear?" he demanded in a low voice.

Daubigny's eyes were wide with fear. "It sounded like a great animal crashing about! Didn't you hear it? Are there bears in these parts, or wolves? Or maybe it's a dog, a guard dog sent from the castle!" In spite of never having seen a dog at Beckwith, he could instantly envision himself being torn limb from limb in some great mastiff's bloody jaws.

"A dog?" Chevenier asked, surprised. "I don't believe they've ever used them."

He frowned, looking into the woods. "I did not hear anything, either." He glanced to Daubigny. "Are you sure you heard a noise?"

As if on cue, another crash sounded through the woods.

Shouting in alarm, Daubigny took off running deeper into the woods.