Athos had slept through most of the day, but awoken early the next morning. While laying in bed, he had taken some time to watch the dust particles dance in the sun's early morning rays. He watched shadows morph, the way the light reflected off his doublet, and his sword. Porthos and Aramis still slept, but a chicken poked her head into the room after pushing the fabric aside. She tilted her head and looked awkwardly at Aramis' barefoot and the subtle twitch of his big toe. She looked at Athos who cocked an eyebrow, and then decided against her assault. Instead, she scratched at the ground and pecked at the small bugs near the wall.

Athos slipped into his boots, stood stiffly with a wince, and then slowly exited the room. The hen followed, but left the barn and waddled toward the garden. Athos paused and then walked to the draft mare's stall, and then smiled when he found her foal sleeping quietly along the railing. The proud mother stood with her left hind hoof cocked and blinked lazily.

His exhaustion, though not as severe, continued to linger. He had heard Aramis say something about it persisting. He couldn't help but contemplate the thoughts that had run though his mind while facing his future as a blind man… a future that may possibly been cut short. It was gut wrenching. He looked over his shoulder and looked at the rays of the sun as they highlighted the ground, shining through the clouds and giving life to those within its rays. Athos took a deep breath, ran a hand through his dirty hair and looked forward to his return to Paris, a hot bath, and his own bed. He looked forward to regaining his strength, sparing in the courtyard, and watching the backs of Aramis, Porthos, and d'Artagnan He left the barn, and watched the rooster toss his head back and once again attempt to crow. The garbled sound of an animal choking followed. Regardless of his lack of crowing ability, his fortitude in creating offspring was evident as a chicken and several chicks pecked and scratched at the ground near the water trough.

Farming was a hard life for simple, honest people.

"How are you feeling?" Aramis asked, stepping behind him. "Are you feeling any pain? How about the headache?"

Athos nodded. "It's Better."

"Well enough to travel?'

Athos rubbed his neck and said, "Yes."

Aramis exhaled and handed Athos the note and bear claw necklace. "This was given to Madame Clorette… she didn't know who it was from."

Athos took the note and read the words. "Where's the parish?"

"On our way back to Paris — It was abandoned a few years ago when it flooded." Aramis looked at Athos as he ran the fat of thumb over the claw. "Someone tried to keep us from returning to Paris, Athos — and it wasn't just a few farmers from Allier — it's much deeper than that."

"Any ideas?" Athos asked.

Aramis shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. "The Spanish have come to mind several times. Perhaps an insider at the palace… who else knew where we were, who knew we were traveling to Autun and Allier? This was planned… We don't know by whom yet, but maybe this is a clue."

"Well then," Athos said. "We should investigate."

Aramis pointed toward the barn when Porthos led the horses, saddled and ready. The front door squeaked and slammed against its frame when Eve exited. Her daughters sprinted to the gardens to collect their bounty. Eve stepped toward them, handed them each a small bag of food, hard bread, cheese, and fruit.

"It's not much, but it will at least get you part way home," Eve said and placed her hands on her hips. "Be careful."

Athos looked at her and curled his lips into an appreciative smile. "Thank you… for everything."

Eve nodded and said, "I'm just grateful you were all here to help us."

Standing next to Roger's left shoulder, Porthos lowered himself into a half squat and slapped his upper thigh and nodded to Athos, who grabbed the pommel of his saddle.

"Put it here, Athos," Porthos encouraged and then cupped the back of Athos' booted foot when he raised it to Porthos' thigh. In a quick and graceful move, Porthos stood as Athos raised his right leg over the saddle and nodded in thanks for his assistance. Athos took a deep breath, collected the reins, and rolled his shoulders. He had tied his sword and weapons belt to his saddle, and he wore his doublet.

Roger tossed his head, and then he arched his long neck in anticipation of the ride ahead. Athos pulled on the reins and nodded to Porthos, who patted Roger's neck and walked to his own mount.

Eve walked back to the porch, glanced at her daughters, and watched the musketeers prepare to depart. The light of the early morning was just beginning to crest the horizon. The orange and yellow faded and hinted at the warmth of what was to come. Their hens clucked, and the horses snorted, stomped their feet, and leather squeaked and creaked beneath their weight.

Emry dusted his hands, placed his hands on his hips, and looked toward Porthos, Athos, and Aramis. "You're welcome here if you ever come back through." He hobbled toward them from the plough he had been repairing. He ran his hand along the length of the Roger's long neck and said, "I expect Olaf will let us know what happens in Paris…" he paused, glanced over his shoulder toward Eve, and then said, "I can't thank you all enough for what you did."

Aramis shook his head, collected the reins, and said, "The villagers came together, Emry," he said with a hint of a smile. "It may have taken everyone a little time to learn that they're stronger together than apart, but…" he paused and looked at Porthos and then Athos, "you're all stronger for it." Aramis leaned forward, clapped Emry on the shoulder and said, "Take care of your family and if you ever come to Paris…" He let his words hang as Emry nodded and took a step back. Aramis looked toward Eve and their daughters and tapped the brim of his hat toward them, and then urged his horse forward.

Athos looked at Eve and then at Emry. "Thank you," he said.

"Travel safe," Emry said, and watched them leave.

Dew dripped from the points of leaves and the ground was still moist from the light rain the night before. The horses walked calmly along the road. They perked their ears forward when something rustled in the bushes and captured their attention, only to lose interest when the rustling stopped. Porthos ate the hard bread and several pears. Athos reached into the cloth sack Eve prepared for him and grabbed an apple. He wiped it along the cuff of his blouse, took a bite, and then wiped his mouth free of the juice.

The trip had taken longer than expected, much longer. If they were fortunate, they would return to Paris 21 days after departure. The combination of the long ride to Nevers, their travels to the towns of Allier and Auton, their delay because of the threats on their lives, and then the return trip had caused serious delays. Aramis rubbed his face, looked over his shoulder at Athos, who rode quietly next to Porthos, and then shifted in his seat.

The hours moved slowly. The weather was kind and remained uneventful. Puffy white clouds prevented the sun's hot rays from hitting their backs, and the gentle breeze caused their blouses to flutter and cool their skin. It was a welcomed change: the quiet, the mundane, and the peace that came with their travels.

Aramis looked into the distance, rested his right hand on his thigh, and frowned when he noticed a tree shaped like a hand pointing to the heavens. Three of its tallest branches bent downward, and one pointed crookedly upward. A random branch, much thicker and shorter than the others, looked like a thumb.

Aramis pointed, turned in his seat, and said, "Allier Parish." He pulled his horse to a stop and turned toward the others.

"Could be an ambush, Aramis," Porthos said. He wanted to investigate, find out who it was that sent them the bear claw necklace and note.

"Why would a stranger leave us these things?" Aramis countered and patted his pocket. He looked at Athos, who rubbed his brow. "Athos?"

"He could be right, Aramis," Athos said.

"What if those who poisoned us — an tried to poison you —" Aramis looked at Porthos, "are planning something else?" He looked over his shoulder toward Athos, who continued to rub his forehead. "Athos is no shape to fight for very long."

"We need to investigate it," Athos said and lowered his hand to the pommel of the saddle. "If they were planning an ambush, they would have struck already." He looked at Aramis and then at Porthos.

Aramis nodded, but pulled at the edge of his mustache. "I'll go… I'll just take a quick look and see what I can find." He turned and looked at Porthos, who narrowed his eyes in disapproval. "I won't be long." He frowned when he glanced at Athos, who was quickly tiring, but gallantly stayed focused.

Aramis urged his horse to the left, turned, and looked toward the others. "I'll be back shortly… keep at a slow pace. If I'm not back with you in an hour… then you can worry."

"Aramis," Porthos said. "I don't think—"

"We need to know," Aramis countered. "I'll be careful."

"Not alone."

"Go with him," Athos said. He looked at Porthos. "Be careful. I'll ride ahead and find a place for the night."

Porthos looked at Athos skeptically. "Are you feelin' well enough to ride ahead?"

Athos nodded. "Just find me…" he urged his mount forward, "look for the glow of the fire."

Porthos reluctantly nodded and watched Athos continue his journey. "I don't like the idea of 'im ridin' off alone."

Aramis exhaled slowly and said, "We won't be long."

"I think 'e should come with us."

"I can smell the scent of death from here, Porthos," Aramis said and with a tilt of his chin in Athos' direction, "he's already got a weak stomach."

Porthos tossed the remains of his last pear toward the bush and said, "Then lets 'urry."

Aramis nodded, looked at Porthos, and then both turned their horses in the direction of the church. Porthos looked over his shoulder at Athos, who rode at a slow walk toward Nevers.

Aramis said, "We need to know who left this note — this might be about us — or it could be bigger."