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"And my own farm is here," Toby mused, pointing to the map, "And here is my neighbor's, who has lost a goat." He was beginning to see a pattern in the killings; most seemed to be occurring to the north of Bree, within easy distance of "Chetwood," he muttered, then said it louder: "Yes, it does not seem unlikely that this menace is making its lair in the Chetwood."
There were some nods and murmurs of assent at this, but Toby also thought he could feel a note of fear. Parts of the Chetwood were as dense and tangled as he imagined any place could be; few Breelanders went there, and even fewer were familiar with the place.
"Nobody said that this would involve traipsing off to unknown parts!" objected one - Eric.
"Well," reasoned Toby, "I don't see how we can put an end to the threat if we don't go off and find it." He observed the trapped look in Eric's face. He added, "You are not bound to go with us."
"It's just - my mother and sisters - they have no one else..."
"I understand; you may go now, and no one will think the less of you," said Toby kindly.
He could see Eric's fear battling with his pride; fear seemed to win. Eric explained, "I never really intended to join anyway; the mayor just seemed to take my input as volunteering." And with that, he got up and left with his head bowed in shame.
Trying to put the awkward situation behind them, Toby said, "As for the rest of us, it is too late today to set off, and none of us are prepared. We should go tomorrow morning, I think; we can meet here at the Inn."
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