Boone stabbed his javelin into the ground and stopped. "Do you think we're ever going to find Claire this way?" he asked Locke, who was checking the branches of all the bushes around the pathway.
"Nope." answered Locke, carefully fingering the tiny sticks. Standing, he turned to Boone and shrugged. "It's just what Jack said, and everyone does what Jack says." He turned back to the bush. "Come here," he beckoned Boone over, and the young man came without hesitation. "Look at this." Locke pointed to the little bush, and Boone bent down to inspect it. "You think someone has been here?"
Boone stared at the little branches, searching for broken ends, twisted leaves, torn hair, but he could see nothing peculiar about the bush. "No," he said at last, and glanced at Locke, who smiled.
"Wrong."
"Huh?" Boone looked back at the bush, but he could not see anything wrong with it. "I don't see –"
"Seeing is not always believing." Locke told him, rubbing a finger across the base of one of the millions of tiny leaves. Holding it up, he held it out to Boone. "Smell that." he instructed.
Boone leaned forward and hesitantly smelled it. "Gunpowder." he stated. Locke nodded and withdrew his hand. "But... no one uses gunpowder anymore." Boone pointed out, "That was used back during the civil war."
"Boone." Locke closed his eyes in agitation. "Think before you talk. Gunpowder is not only used for ammunition. It has other uses."
Boone thought for a moment. "Explosives?" he asked, and Locke nodded. "But what would Ethan be doing with explosives?"
"Who says it's Ethan?" Locke asked, wiping his finger on his pants. "But the big question is, where is Ethan?" He stood and pointed in a south-easterly direction. "Let's get going. This way." he said.
"Okay," agreed Boone, and turned to pick up his javelin. He stopped short. "Um, Locke..." he said, and Locke turned.
The javelin was gone.