When Atlas found Maora she was knelt on the ground, her hands covered in a black substance that dripped from her fingers onto the dusty ground. Her arm had scratches running around it, the blood trickling slowly out of it and dribbling down to her wrist. The thralassi was in a heap infront of her, both her penknife, Atlas' dagger and a long, jagged piece of splintered wood sticking out of its neck.
Her eyes were wide, flicking from first the thralassi to her sticky hands which Atlas realised were covered in the blood of the beast. He ran to her, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her lightly until she looked in his own eyes.
A sob escaped her as she pointed a shaking hand to her left, where a mask lay by the outstretched arm of a person who lay in a pool of their own blood. Atlas glanced away, pulling her to his chest as he realised it was her mother. He wasn't going to ask anything about it until she was ready to tell him.
Rocking her back and forth, Atlas watched over Maora's shoulder as Arrow appeared. Her cries and screams echoed around, the only noise apart from the crackling of loose fires and the occasional crash of buildings falling to the ground.
A tear escaped Atlas' eye as he realised his dad would never have made it out of Little Alvar alive.
"Let's get out of here." Arrow said, pulling the two knives out of the thralassi's neck and wiping them on his black pants. His eyebrows seemed to furrow with disgust, but Atlas couldn't tell as of the cloak that shrowded all his face.
"Why are you helping us?" asked Atlas, pulling Maora tighter to his chest as her cries died down a little.
"Does it look like I have anything better to do?" he pointed at the cloak again. "I protect who I want to. Apparently tonight it was you two, and it's not like I can just leave you in a burning town, is it?" Arrow replied, passing the knives to Atlas who took them and shoved them down his boots.
As Atlas looked up, he spoke. "That's bullshit. You want to tell us the truth or do we have to force it out of you?" he said with a surprisingly gentle and calm voice as he made sure that the moon's light reflected on the blade hidden on the inside of his boot. Arrow's gruff laugh rang in his ears, and Atlas looked up with all hint of kindness gone, his words as sharp and cold as ice. "You think I'm joking?" he questioned, eyes narrowing as he held Arrow's gaze, the sudden change of tone surprising him.
"No, I don't think you're joking." his eyes flicked down to Atlas' boots. "I just find it interesting how quick you are at catching on to people's lies. You must be good at lying then, musn't you?" Arrow pondered, stretching his arms.
"I can tell you're dodging my question, which means you're deciding whether or not you should tell us. Which also means, you were given orders by someone not to." his gaze travelled to the thralassi, to its legs in particular. He noticed Arrow flinch a little, and smirked, his teeth showing in almost a sneer. Arrow couldn't help but wonder at the look that had overtaken Atlas. He had become a completely different person; as if Atlas' goal was to unnerve Arrow. His eyes were blank of emotion yet full of sharp hatred at the same time, and he could practically see the rage he held inside himself, but his muscles were still relaxed and his movements calm, and at the same time carefully planned and in complete precision.
Atlas pulled Maora to her feet and left her to herself where she stepped back to a little behind Arrow, her arms wrapped around herself as Atlas made his way over to the beast and knelt down by its legs, prodding them and brushing the wiry hair out of the way.
"Interesting." he looked at Arrow out the corner of his eye. "You see these?" he pointed at each of the legs, where barely noticeable red marks wound around its ankles. "These are one of two things. Scrap that; it's both. This thralassi isn't wild; it was tamed. Someone sent it here." Atlas pulled his hands away, letting the hair drop back into place. "It was caught and shackled at its legs, as whoever it belongs to must've got it when it was too old for it to be trusting enough to its owner. They tried to send it down here without force, but when it wouldn't go by command, someone provoked it by whipping it tight around the legs, and it chased them. It was brought here by someone." Atlas rose to his feet, looking at Arrow whose hand was slowly inching to his quiver.
He raised his eyebrow, and Maora leaped forward, grabbing his arms and twisting them round, kicking him in the shins and tossing his quiver and bow away. The arrows spilled over the ground, tangled among each other as Arrow fell to his knees, Maora holding his wrists tight behind him.
"Tell us everything - who sent you here, and why. Why only we are alive. Then we'll decide what to do." Atlas demanded, pulling the swords out their leather case and looking at them with a sudden interest, flicking his eyes to Arrow as he let his arms drop by his side, both swords in his hands, the cerberus poison dripping off them into a pool on the floor. He pointed one of the swords at his throat, too close for comfort. Arrow didn't dare flinch in case he got a single swipe of that blade, accidental or not.
"She didn't need you. She only wanted Maora. But now I think about it, maybe you'd be better as a pair." he laughed, but there was no humour in it. "You found that notebook, right? Then I'm pretty sure that you heard of Ella Coman."
