(no subject)

It's a mild day--for February, anyway--the sort of day that one feels needs to be used before it goes away. So Feuilly had proposed a return to the quintain they had found. "We can take apart the broken section, and maybe clear some of the saplings if Bar will let us borrow a hatchet," he'd said. And bar had obliged, and he and Harry had set forth, and he had given Harry the hatchet, and--honestly, glancing over at Harry's attack on some brambles, Feuilly is a little concerned about the decision. Did the brambles commit some unforgivable offense?