Those who were taken...
They never came back, dragged beneath the waves never to return.
Their haunting screams were a symbol of their horrific deaths.
Like shadows they lay in wait, the deep blue waters hiding them from view.
With sharp claws they...
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~•~
With Atlas' sunburn beginning to heal, he has taken to working on the raft once more. Cally usually splits her time between taking walks on the beach--within Atlas' sight, of course--or trying to help him with the raft.
The thing is large and heavy to maneuver, which makes piecing it together quite difficult. When he lifts the logs, she wraps the vines around and underneath it before he places the wood back down again. It is a long and sweaty job so she is thankful when the sun begins to set and the workday is over.
Atlas has taken to the sea to acquire dinner while she was left to stay at camp. She had said she would stay in the tent and watch the fire, but the sweat on her body begs to be removed. Surely she could bathe before he returned, couldn't she?
Cally gathers the necessary soaps before making her way to one of the shallow pools nearby. She places her items on a rock beside her before removing her shirt and shorts. She quickly replaces them with her bikini as she is still too insecure to bathe completely naked despite being alone.
She moves quickly to scrub the soap over her dirty skin, washing away the dreaded sweat and sand. She then retrieves the razor which she had found in the suitcase and begins to slide it over her now deeply tanned legs.
In what is probably not the most logical course of action, Cally begins to rush herself as sunlight steadily fades from the sky. In a rather unlucky way, the razor, which had become dull and near to rusting in the salty air, nicked her knee in a jagged cut. Blood dribbled up from the small injury and slowly trickled down the length of her leg.
She hissed at the sudden pain and went to cover the cut. A little too late, she realized her hands were covered in saltwater which only made it sting more. She blows anxiously at the small cut, ignorant of the trickle of blood that comes dangerously close to dripping into the water.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" She suddenly hears Atlas cry.
She spins around to see him running down the beach and crashing through the shallow water to reach her. Cally, perplexed by whatever fright has gotten into him, prepares to stand as he reaches her side.
"Don't move!" He shouts.
Cally freezes in her place, fingers grasping tightly to the rock beneath her. "What's wrong?" She asks hesitantly.
Atlas doesn't answer. Instead, he grasps her leg tightly with one hand and catches the dribble of blood with the other. Before Cally can protest, Atlas has lifted her into his arms and carries her back to the beach.
Cally wiggles in his grip, quite uncomfortable against his bare chest, but as begins to move faster she finds herself clutching her arms tightly around his neck. "Atlas, what is going on?" She wonders aloud and quite annoyedly.
Atlas stops suddenly once he reaches dry sand. His gaze pins itself on the human girl who clings to him uncomfortably tight. He doesn't answer her question, but instead laughs a low, mocking laugh of disbelief.
