Dusk is upon him when he finally feels comfortable enough to return home. Atlas had been wandering around aimlessly for hours trying to catch whoever it was off guard. About half way through, he began to feel like it really was just him going crazy. But if that was true, then he'd have to admit that he was beginning to see things. The last person to do that in his community was labeled a threat to the community's safety by his grandmother and ostracized. Being outcasted from the community was the last thing he wanted done.

He ran his hand roughly through his hair, huffing a stifled laugh. That girl... he thought. She had somehow managed to mess with his mind and all she did was pester him into being her friend. The saddest part of it all is that she didn't even recognize him. She was easily recognizable. The moment he pulled her back onto the dock, he knew who she was.

Aside from the obvious changes that accompany through age, she looked just as she did thirteen years ago. Her brown hair had grown out some, but it still frizzed the same toward the roots. Her round face still naturally gave her rosey cheeks and her vibrant blue eyes still remained the biggest feature on her against her. She was cute in the childlike sense.

When Atlas finally enters the door to the empty lobby, feet hurting and exhausted, he immediately catches sight of a petite, frail looking woman pacing back and forth behind a set of couches placed invitingly around a fireplace. Her long black hair is a braided mess, pieces and strands pulled out of place. Her blouse, which is normally tucked in tightly, is loose and wrinkled at the edges. This isn't the same dignified and poised mother he left this morning.

When she sees him, she stops, her hand thrown to her mouth. The relief in her deep blue set of eyes that mirrored Atlas' could not mask the feeling of complete dread that he was getting from her. Something awful happened while he was gone. In that moment, he thought of his pursuer and he curses himself as his eyes immediately scan the room for any signs of their visit. It was stupid to think that they could not of have known about this place.

"You're alive!" She practically shouts as she rushes to him, her arms outstretched. The moment she reaches him, her hands grab his face and pulls him toward her as she simultaneously brings herself to her toes until their foreheads meet.

"Last time I checked," Atlas replies, bringing his hands to gently rest on her wrists. She holds him there for a moment longer. The pressure she puts against his head is more forceful than normal.

Gripping her wrists he is finally able to pull back, baffled at her strange behavior. "Are you alright?"

"I am now," she replies in a melodic tone. "Sort of." Her features take on a more troubled expression as her eyes drift away from him. "If not you, then..." Her voice trails.

"What's going on?" Atlas asks as he tries to look into her eyes again. The dreadful feeling emanating from her overpowers his lingering anxiety, alarming him. She frees herself from his grip and takes his wrist, marching him out of the lobby.

Once down the hall toward their living quarters, she stops. Turning back to him, she speaks in a hushed, quivering voice. "Joe in Nags Head found a body during his late afternoon rounds... It was one of ours." Atlas is frozen, eyes widening. A sickening feeling churns in his stomach.

"What?" His voice cracks.

Joe works for the Nags Head Police Department. Basically the community's lookout in other words. There are a handful who volunteered to work with the police, allowing the ability for their people to know what may be coming. It was one of the many ways his father likes to stay one step ahead of those who supposedly seek them out.

She begins to tremble some, recalling the conversation she had with Joe. "He said the body was too battered to identify, but there was enough to know it was definitely one of us. Everyone was accounted for except you. Well you, Samuel, Mia, and Ryan. God, you had me about ready to send a search party out for you." She weakly threw her small fist into his chest, distraught by what Atlas can only assume is the thoughts she had tortured herself with during his absense.

"You seriously thought that it could have been me?" Atlas asks, unable to completely understand her logic.

"Of course I did! What do you expect me to think when you don't come home at your normal time and there is no note saying you would be late? When he said it was pretty obvious that this was not an accident, I panicked."

"They were murdered?" Atlas can feel the flutter his heart produces in reaction to his question.

"Your father is not going to like this at all," she says almost to herself.

"Do you think it was possibly one of us?" He asks. His mother shakes her head. "Who on the outside would want to kill Samuel, Ryan or Mia?" He regrets the words almost as quickly as he says them.

"Them," she replies in all seriousness.

Atlas exhales. "Mom..."

"I'm serious! Who else could have done this?" A fire ignited in her eyes as she finds his, her once aura of dread now growing angry.

"Maybe one of them had come back and got mixed up in a mugging gone wrong and their body was dumped," he suggests. "The people you are talking about have been silent for decades. It is quite possible they don't exist anymore."

"Then explain to me why an innocent young woman was slain after becoming a little too comfortable with one of us?" There is anger in her tone now. She never quite accepted Atlas' views, only merely tolerated them.

Atlas is vaguely familiar with this incident. It happened a couple years before he was born. Supposedly, a young woman from the outside and a young man from his community had somehow developed a closeness to each other. No one to this day can explain how it happened, or why. It had gone on for a few months until one day she vanished. Some months later her body was found washed into the marshes. Somehow her murder had gotten shuffled under the rug. Two days later the young man's heart gave out.

"Just because one of our own was involved doesn't mean that whoever killed that woman is part of that group of people. There could be many reasons."

"Do you not think that maybe they have their own methods of going about this undetected? Maybe they have found a way to become just as crafty as we have." Atlas averts his gaze. He had always chosen to believe that because these people hadn't shown any sign of their existence, they didn't exist. The truth is, he didn't really know.

When he doesn't reply she places a hand lightly on his arm. "Seriously though, you really need to set your pride aside and get a phone. It would save your mother a lot of grief. You're as bad as your father sometimes."

"Sure," he replies dully. Giving into human possessions would be like giving up the last little bit of himself that clung to his true nature. At least to Atlas it feels that way.

She pats him on the arm a couple times before letting it slide off. "What are we going to do?" Her tone sounds almost hopeless.

Atlas bends down toward the small woman and places his forehead once more to hers. He pushes a feeling of comfort in her direction. She relaxes to it some, enough for her to step back and produce a warm smile.

"Where you are as bad as your father, you are also as good as he is. What am I going to do when you leave us in a couple months?"

"You still have Marina. I don't think you'll miss me that much once she's out and about. Her spirit is ten times stronger than mine was at her age," he jokes. His mother chuckles lightly, reminiscing a memory that must have played in her mind, but there is still pain in her face.

"Speaking of Marina, she has been restless all evening waiting for you. You may want to go talk to her if she hasn't already fallen asleep before you turn in." Atlas nods. She starts walking past Atlas, but pauses not a step behind him. "Oh, and go see Kyla tomorrow. She has been searching for you all afternoon. It will put her at ease knowing that you are alive."

"I will," he replies and watches his mother disappear into the lobby before he staggers back into the wall behind him.

He closes his eyes, dropping his head back into the wall. Having one of their own turn up murdered was unheard of. Just the thought of it possibly being Ryan made him feel sick. The thought of it being any one of the three was hard to stomach. And if it was one of them, then what? 

With a sigh, he pushes off the wall and heads toward the room his sister resides in. Opening the door as quietly and as carefully as he can, he lets light into her room as he peaks inside. A lump covered in a mountain of hand sewn blankets moves slightly. 

He slinks in and makes his way to the side of her bed. The girl looks smaller than normal against her blanket mound. As he goes to move a clump of hair that had fallen into her face, she stirs, eyes peeking open. When she looks at Atlas, her face seems to come alive and she struggles to sit up beneath the blankets.

"Don't get up, I'm just here to say goodnight," Atlas signs to her.

"Where have you been?" She signs back.

"I had to take care of some things. I'm sorry I got back so late," he signs with an apologetic expression.

"I guess I can forgive you..." She smiles wickedly at him. "But you have to make it up to me."

"I will, I promise." He holds his pinky out for hers to which she took immediately, her face beaming. Leaning in, he presses his forehead to hers and then tucks her back in. With a sign, "goodnight," he walks back out of her room.

By the time he makes it to his room, he is so overcome with exhaustion that he barely removes his shirt before he collapses onto his bed. His eyes waste no time closing, refusing to be opened again. The last thing he thinks about before finally being succombed by sleep is his gut feeling that this was only the beginning.