June 30, 1764 - Mende
Retired to the inn and covered the prey on the cart, they ate, drank, and slept.
The following morning they had broken limbs.
But they were free.
After what had happened, the strangling silence still didn't want to loosen its grip, but they both thought that once they left Mende all the problems would be left behind.
They loaded the provisions for the trip to the capital, fed Esperance, and then left.
They walked through the city with a growing feeling of oppression. An unreal heaviness, almost an intuition.
It was the beginning of the day, but most of the activities were closed.
As they moved north, towards the royal road, they saw men and women running towards the outer fields.
Fantin was restless, he wanted to ask, but René kept his eyes fixed in front of him.
A frightened man met Fantin's gaze.
- The beast, - he stammered, - the beast attacked! -
Irresistible.
- What happened? - Fantin asked. He knew before the answer that his fears were well founded. He had always been right.
- The beast killed a woman! -
Fantin turned to his companion.
No mention.
No attention.
- Wolves - René ruled.
The subsequent silence was eloquent.
Fantin knew that wasn't the wolves.
But René was already a retired man.
- If an unwary woman dies, I don't give a fuck. In all of Gévaudan there is no longer a single truly dangerous beast. -
Fantin nodded.
- Our work is done. -
The cart disappeared on the cobblestones, slow to the sound of Esperance's irons.
For some time, however, Fantin had been stroking the dagger under his cloak, cold and merciless like the eyes of the hunter.
Soon, he would need him again.
An old black-hearted beast could not doom an entire country because is too slothful to hunt.
They were hunters, in the end. There's only one duty that must be always done.