Athos exhales raggedly. The men are right: they are hunting now, they must be prepared to take care of the thing that has stalked them for days. At yet the words cut icily through Athos. The monster they seek is not Thomas - Thomas is dead - but it wears his face all the same.

“We shall find out,” says Athos, keeping his voice steady. “Can you see anything?” he asks Aramis. Porthos, he knows, will watch the door.