Lightning flashed, illuminating the woods with a menacing white light. A moment later, the wind picked up. Leaves whipped across the ground at Philippe's feet as he trotted nervously forward. The horse's eyes bulged as a moment later a loud crack of thunder roared in the sky above. Jigging his head, he rattled his bit.
"We should be there by now," Maurice exclaimed. In his spot on the carriage's front seat, Maurice knew what the big animal was trying to say: Let's turn around now before it's too late. But he also knew it already was too late. They had somehow gotten stuck in the middle of what locals called the dark forest. Rumors swirled around that thick patch of woods. Some said witches lived there. Others claimed it was full of packs of wolves smarter than most men. There were even those who said the trees had been known to speak. It was the type of place where one saw dark and hostile eyes wherever one looked.
It was not the type of place to get lost in at night—especially in the middle of a storm. "Maybe we missed the run", Maurice suggested. Philippe slowly approached a fork in the road. There was a sign there, but the words on it had faded. To the left, the road continued along a river. To the right, it disappeared into a thick, misty forest. Maurice peered up both roads, then pulled Philippe to the right. Phillippe reared back and shook his head. But Maurice just pulled harder. "Come on, Philippe, it's a shortcut. We'll be there in no time."
Philippe went to the right, into the forest. The road grew narrower and trees made black shadows on the ground. Slowly, a thick, gray fog settled over them. The drip, drip, drip of water from a tree echoed in the dead silence.
Glancing back and forth, Maurice pondered what to do. A rational, reasonable part of him knew that he should find a way to keep going on the road. But a smaller part of him realized that was never going to happen. At least not that night. He couldn't get the cart, himself, and Philippe around the fallen tree. With a sigh, he tugged on the reins, steering his horse toward the path.
A sharp wind whistled through the gnarled branches, causing them to twitch like sharp, bony fingers. Maurice held his jacket closed against the sudden cold. Then a long shadow skittered among the trees, rustling the leaves. As they moved farther and farther down the path, Maurice became less and less confident that things would turn out well. "This can't be right. Where have you taken us, Philippe? We better turn around."
And then there was a piercing howl.
An instant later a huge white wolf burst out of the bushes, barely missing the cart. Looking over, Maurice saw an entire pack of the beasts running parallel to them. The horse wasted no time. He broke into a gallop. But the sudden movement combined terribly with the cart's age and general disrepair.
"Steady, Phillippe!" Maurice yelled, but he couldn't hold on. He tumbled to the ground as Philippe galloped away.
"Phillipe?" Maurice whispered into the darkness. He got up quickly and looked around frantically. He saw a pair of yellow eyes and hoped against hope that they belonged to something friendly.
But there was nothing friendly about the animal's angry growl, or its long, glistening teeth. It was a wolf! Maurice backed away from the wolf's growl. "N-n-no," he muttered. "No!"
The wolf sprang toward him. Maurice turned and ran. He crashed through the underbrush, ignoring the branches that lashed his face.
Then he saw another shadow and another. It was a whole pack of wolves! Maurice ran left, then right. The wolves were panting, snarling. He looked back to see many pairs of yellow eyes gaining on him.
Just then, Maurice thought he saw something glimmer from the corner of his eye. Could there be some sort of structure…a safe haven in this godforsaken place? A moment later, he knew he hadn't imagined it. A huge ornate gate, frozen over with ice, had suddenly appeared in front of him. As he raced up to it, the gate swung open slightly. Maurice plunged through. He just made it through it when the gate closed. Behind him, the wolves' howls turned to yelps of fear and then faded altogether as the creatures ran away.
If Maurice had not just barely escaped a pack of wolves with his life, he might have taken pause at their sudden disappearance—or the odd gate that opened and closed by itself. He might even have wondered how a castle as large and ornate as the one that rose in front of him could seem to appear out of nowhere. But as it was, he didn't stop to think about it.
Maurice had seen great buildings before. After all, he had lived the majority of his life in Paris, where beautiful buildings dominated the skyline. He had seen the artistry that went into creating such architectural wonders and, as an artist himself, was in awe of those who crafted their visions into reality. But nothing he had ever seen in Paris could have prepared him for the castle he saw now.
It seemed to defy gravity, with large turrets that reached high into the stormy sky. Its sides were made of gray stone cut so that it seemed the castle had grown out of the ground. The path Maurice now walked on was a long bridge that ended in front of the castle's massive entryway. Below the bridge was a dried-up moat. On the other side of the bridge, weeds and vines covered the castle grounds. They crept up garden walls and tangled around broken marble statues.
A small shiver of fear flashed over Maurice.
It looked as though no one had taken care of the castle for ages. Yet the light meant someone was inside, so Maurice walked toward it. Just then a thunderbolt split the sky, casting a harsh white light over the castle, and instantly rain began to fall in torrents. Lights still flickered through the castle's open door, so Maurice stepped cautiously inside.
On a table, just inside the door, there was a beautiful, lighted candelabra and mantel clock. Beyond them was the largest room Maurice had ever seen. Rich-looking but tattered tapestries hung from the walls. Tarnished and chipped statues stood in the corners. The floors were covered with thick, dusty carpets. Dark archways led to dark, faraway rooms.
"Hello? Hello!" His voice echoed through the large empty hall. Maurice could just make out the faint sound of a harpsichord coming from somewhere deep within the castle. Someone, it seemed, was home.
Maurice failed to notice a large candelabrum and ornate mantel clock sitting on a nearby table. As he passed them, the candelabrum slowly turned, watching the man.
Then Maurcie heard voices. The first said, "Poor fellow must have lost his way in the woods."
The second snapped, "Keep quiet. Maybe he'll go away."
"Is someone there?"
The mantel clock, Cogsworth, whispered to the candelabra, Lumiere, "Not a word, Lumiere. Not one word."
Maurice was taking small steps inside the castle, looking around him for potential inhabitants. "I don't mean to intrude, but I've lost my horse and I need a place to stay for the night."
Lumiere's heart melted at this kind, old gentleman. "Oh, Cogsworth, have a heart." Cogsworth put his right arm on Lumiere's mouth, preventing him from uttering another word. But Lumiere used one of his lit candelabra hands to remove Cogsworth's hand, then he shouted, "OF COURSE, MONSIEUR, YOU ARE WELCOME HERE!"
Maurice picked up a candelabra at one table to light up whoever was speaking. But what Maurice didn't know was that the speaker was the candelabra he was holding in his hand. After realizing this, he dropped Lumiere on the floor. Hard landing!
For a tense moment, Maurice eyed the candelabrum and the clock. He picked up the clock, held it up to the dim light, and inspected it. He turned it upside down, then right side up. "How is this accomplished." He shifted it to the left and then the right. Finally, he shook it with his hand.
The clock was not satisfied. "Put me down at once!"
Maurice obeyed, saying, "I beg your pardon, it's just that I've never seen a clock that-AAAAAAH-CHOO!" The sneeze exploded out of him.
"You are soaked to the bone, monsieur," Lumiere said. "Come warm yourself by the fire."
Suddenly, Maurice saw what kind of light it was that brought him here in the first place - a cozy fireplace in what seemed to be a drawing room. Without a second thought, he made his way into the room with Lumiere leading his way. To his delight, the fire he had heard was huge. It roared inside a large ornate hearth.
"No!" Cogsworth retorted. "I forbid it! The master will be furious if he finds him here!"
But Lumiere ignored him. Maurice settled himself in a comfortable leather armchair - THE MASTER'S CHAIR! A footstool. yapping happily like a dog, scooted under Maurice's feet. "Well, hello there boy! Maurice said. A hatstand brought him a quilt to warm up in.
Cogsworth saw this with the biggest dread. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no!" Cogsworth cried, putting his hands over his eyes. "I am not seeing this!"
A tea cart rolled into the room. On it was a round teapot with a plump, friendly face, and a small, chipped teacup. "Would you like a spot of hot tea, sir? It will warm you up in no time," she said.
"No!" Cogsworth shouted. "No tea!"
"Yes, please," said Maurice gratefully. When Mrs. Potts had poured some tea into a cup, Maurice began drinking.
Maurice yelped. Apparently, the cup—the cup made of china… the cup full of tea… the cup that was supposed to be just a cup—started to giggle. "His mustache tickles, Mama."
WHAMMMM!
The door flew open and Maurice jumped in his chair. Shaking, Maurice looked up just as a dark shape looked inside the room. The tea cart quickly rolled away, and Cogsworth dashed under a carpet. There was someone - something - standing in the doorway. It towered on thick, hairy legs, and its head and arms were covered with matted fur. As it stepped toward Maurice, its feet pounded the floor like mallets. Under thick, tangled brows, its eyes glared angrily and its nostrils flared. "There's a stranger here," he growled.
Lumiere stepped forward quickly. "Master," he said, "you see, the gentleman was lost in the woods, so..."
"RRRRAAAAGGGGGHHH!" The force of the Beast's roar blew out Lumiere's candles.
Cogsworth peered out from under the carpet. "I was against it from the start," he said. "I tried to..."
The Beast sneered at Maurice. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
"I... I... I was lost in the woods," Maurice answered, his eyes wide with fright, "and..."
"You are not welcome here!" The Beast moved closer to Maurice, and Maurice was slowly backing away. "What are you staring at?" the Beast demanded.
"N-n-nothing," Maurice stammered.
"So, you've come to stare at the Beast, have you?" the Beast accused.
Maurice bolted for the door, but the Beast blocked his way. "Please, I meant no harm," Maurice said. "I just needed a place to stay."
Before he could even shout, the creature had grabbed him with two strong arms and lifted him high off the floor. In a sinister voice that made Maurice's blood run cold, he said, "I'll give you a place to stay!"
Right then, the only thing Maurice could think of was Belle. He had a strange feeling that he would never see her again.