Once again the sound of footsteps were close by. "Francis..where did you go?"... That was Eric, Francis was glad that one of the brothers was close by because for as fast as it all happened, this trip in the field was causing alot of delay in their walk to school. "I'm right here Eric, where's Keith?" Eric was close enough now to be seen. "He was right in front of me." "I don't know, he must have missed you and went right on by..KEITH!" The air was still cold enough so that any breathing added to the thickness of the mist. When you shouted, a large growing plume of condensed breath could be seen to push and blend with the surrounding fog. While both Francis and Eric had reconnected in the mist, in the field that was supposed to be a morning short-cut, they still had to gather up Keith, and get along with their walk. What was supposed to be a short mornig excursion, had turned out to be a pain in the neck. Without figuring out exactly what had happened in the mist so far, Francis and Eric looked to call out to Keith until the three of them were together again.
The Battle of Napoleon's Field
"Keeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiith." "Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeith." Over and over the called went out the the missing member of this small troupe. The mist was still coming in it appeared, as even though Eric and Francis were only steps apart, if one more step were put in between the two friends, the other would slip away into the fog. "Eric...." Francis wanted to stop. "Let's stay here for a second and listen for him." "Keith!!" The two sat as still as they could. As if the more frozen they became, the etter chance of hearing Keith's call back to them. 10, 15, then 30 seconds extended into a minute and beyond. Standing still allowed for Eric and Francis to absorb what was happening to them in an otherwise friendly landscape. The idea that one of the three had just disappeared into the fog after Francis was taken far away without moving, in an instant he was gone, and now he feared that what may have happened to Keith was a fate even worse than a transformation of position. "Francis, I'm starting to think something bad is happening." While his voice was sure, Francis could tell that the Younger Lang brother was unable to understand what was happening to himself and his friends. "Let's just find Keith, and we can laugh about it later." Keeeeeeeeeeeeeeith!" Francis let out a long shout of voice and fog from the deepest parts of his lungs. As the least puff of air was extinguished and another fresh breath taken as a replacement, Francis felt a sudden urge to run. Run like he never ran before. Using his feet and arms to cut through the fog which obvisously had it in for these three young New England boys on a crisp Autum morning in October. The longer it took to get back to where they began, Francis feared they would be farther away from where they wanted to be. But before the next loud call to Keith, his close friend now lost, a loud explosion was heard just a few hundred feet from where two friends stood wanting to find the lost member of the group.
Lt. Lafleur, French Captain of the Gaurd
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