"You call this a thick forest? My father would have called this a mere garden," D'Artagnan said. "Are you sure that this constitutes proper 'wilderness training'? Athos, I could navigate through this as easily as walking down a Paris street," he boasted.

Athos rolled his eyes- really, D'Artagnan was truly being insufferable on this trip. He wished that Aramis and Porthos could have accompanied him on this exercise, meant to train D'Artagnan in survival training in the wild. He would gladly invite any other voice today other than the young, cocky Gascon going on and on about his prowess in maneuvering through the thick brush.

Now deep within the forests of Fontainebleau, Athos allowed D'Artagnan his boastful rants for a time, mainly because of how fondly he seemed to be enjoying his reminisces of his father back in Lupiac.

Truly, if he were to admit it, D'Artagnan's recollections were endearing and sweet; Athos was taking pleasure in the boy enjoying himself. His bond with the boy had grown stronger, especially in light of the fact that he had just pulled his own sorry body out of his burning mansion during the whole Bonnaire episode.

Suddenly, Athos had a flash of inspiration. He was in a playful mood himself- D'Artagnan had that effect on people. Athos was compelled to act as mischievous as his young protégée.

"Then it's time to put your money where your mouth is, so to speak."

"What do you mean?"

"Let us see how much attention you paid in arriving here from the Garrison. You will stay right here while I leave for Paris. After nightfall, you will begin your return trek to Paris- alone- and we will see how well you 'navigate' yourself back to the Garrison."

"You're serious?" D'Artagnan asked, smiling.

"Very. You'll get along with the supplies, water and food you brought with you. If you are as deft at 'navigating' the forest as you claim, it should be sufficient until you exit the forest and make your way back to civilization."

"So I'm to sit here until nightfall, all by myself?" He was no longer smiling.

"I'm not taking your horse away from you, but other than that, yes. Time to put those exemplary navigational skills to the test." Athos was smiling now.

D'Artagnan returned the smile. "That should prove no problem at all, I assure you!"

'Good to know. See you back at the Garrison."

"Indeed you shall."

And with that, Athos and his horse started to trot off.

"Athos!" D'Artagnan cried out.

Athos steered his horse around to D'Artagnan.

"This test- it's to see if I could make a good Musketeer?"

'Yes."

D'Artagnan beamed a bright smile of hope and anticipation.


Hours later, Athos entered the Garrison.

"Where's the pup?" Porthos asked.

"Dead- I shot him with my own musket and buried him in the forest," Athos deadpanned.

Aramis said, "I'm sure it was justified, mon ami."

Athos replied, "Believe me, no jury would convict me if they knew what I had to endure with the boy going on and on today about his wood-sy prowess. I did the Garrison a favor."

When he further explained what he had actually done to the boy, Porthos and Aramis couldn't help but howl with incredulous laughter.

Based on the timing of D'Artagnan's scheduled departure from Fontainebleau, Athos anticipated the boy would not return until first light at the earliest.

The next morning, everyone in the Garrison had no choice but to awaken a bit earlier than any of them would have planned. It was raining and stormy out- and the wind was whipping up something ferocious.

Athos' first thought was of D'Artagnan. He felt bad that the boy was probably soaked to the skin, having had to travel in this ungodly weather. But perhaps his waterlogged frame would temper that cocky attitude of his.

Of course, what he had not considered when he made his impulsive decision to leave the boy was that based on his anticipated arrival, it would be overnight and the Garrison would be likely deserted, and in any event, no one would begrudge him his first destination being the Bonacieux residence, to clean up, dry off, and get a well-deserved rest before returning to the Garrison to continue his Musketeer training.

So it wasn't surprising, or even disconcerting, to not see D'Artagnan anywhere on the Garrison grounds now. With the wind whipping around as violently as it was, and the rain coming down in buckets, muster was delayed and no one was eating around the Garrison table, as would have been the custom on most mornings at this time.

There was not much to do now than wait. Athos watched the Garrison's lack of activity from the relative safety of the Garrison balcony.


In the late morning, the weather finally broke. Athos admitted to himself that he was becoming anxious for the young Gascon to enter the Garrison soon, to allay any fears he had of the boy safely making it back to Paris. He kept his eyes on the Garrison entrance like a hawk, throwing a small grimace each time the doors opened, only for it to not be D'Artagnan.

He did notice fellow Musketeer Pierre enter the Garrison with a determined purpose; it was clear he was headed straight to Treville's office.

As he passed Athos, Athos asked, "Trouble?"

Pierre simply said, "I need to see Treville right away."

Porthos and Aramis noticed the Musketeer as well, and sensing something was up, climbed the stairs, headed to Treville's office, as was Athos.

The Inséparables entered as Pierre was mid-sentence.

"…almost nothing is left- reports are that they are digging bodies out of collapsed buildings and everything."

"Where?" Athos asked.

"Melun. Just south of us. Apparently they're saying the storm that we got was devastating- as bad as it was here, evidently by the time it arrived in Paris, it changed direction so we only saw the edge of the actual storm."

"This morning was only the edge? That was pretty bad- the windows were rattlin' so hard I was afraid they'd burst," Porthos said.

"I know. As scary as it was, we were lucky."

Treville said, "We could send assistance. In cleanup efforts. And also to see if any lives can still be saved."

Athos suddenly looked pale. "Wait. How far south- where do they think this storm originated?"

"Hard to tell, but these storms typically don't come out of anywhere. Chances are it could have started as far south as Lyon. With some luck, though, perhaps it was a narrow storm but in truth, we've only just hard about Melun because it's been hit particularly hard. We may hear more from other towns soon."

Athos felt panic brewing in his stomach. Regardless of the breadth of the storm, there was one irrefutable truth: that Fontainebleau was directly south of Melun. The town they passed through together yesterday to get to the forest, was no more.

Athos had abandoned D'Artagnan in the direct path of the deadly storm.