“Hurry! Hurry!” the hushed whisper of the shadowed figure was dripping in fear and panic as its comrade ran to its side.

“But...how do we know this will work? They have not answered in all these years....why would this make it any different?!” the second of the pair replied in just as much fear back to the first as they both looked about nervously in the darkness. Their eyes glowed a faint yellowish green seemed to be the only bit of light to be seen.

“We have to try...the witch said that....” his words were cut short as he pulled his friend deeper into the hole they were taking refuge in. Heavy footfalls echoing just outside the entrance grew louder and even paused outside for a moment making each hold their breath and send a silent prayer to whatever god may be listening. Seconds past that felt like lifetimes before the movement continued passed their hideout and off into the distance until they could no longer be heard.

“The witch said that this ritual would work...that it will alert them and guide them home to us...” the first said all of his faith and hope in the words that conveyed to his friend.

The second one paused and frowned in thought not sure if this was something that they could just believe so completely, especially given how often one could trust a witch. “I...I...don't know...the price for the ingredients is a high one do we really wish to pay it should this not go as we planned...” his hushed tone not being to hide his fear and worry.

“What other choice do we have?” his friend asked him in a pleading tone that seemed to be the last push that the other needed, for he only nodded in agreement.

Making due with the space they had the pair began to prepare the ritual, drawing the proper symbols, preparing the ingredients, etc. When it was time to begin they held hands and chanted the ancient and powerful words together in unison. Softly at first but as the power began to take hold and they continued on they became louder. Eyes closed, bodies rocking to the silent beating power of the incantation, the drawn symbols beginning to glow a faintly, grew brighter the longer the ritual went.

Just as it felt like they had hit its peak and now was the time for the final word to be spoken, a fearsome roar came from the mouth of their hole. Strong, thick, long arms forced their way into the small entrance to grab the friend who had been the one to convince the other of the ritual. He shrieked as his legs and body were crushed in the powerful grip of the beast that held him aloft so that it could look him over.

Dark glowing, cold blue eyes regarding the struggling being in its hand seeming to get some amusement watching its tiny black wings flap and flutter to no effect. When it stopped struggling the beast brought the other close to its face, a large grin materializes on its twisted, crooked smile, “Such a puny creature you are....won't make much of a meal but...” it gave a hearty chuckle and raised the being like it planned on dropping it into its great maw.

Glowing yellowish green eyes taking on hard and confident look raised its tiny hand which held a dagger, “Promise made in blood, promise called in BLOOD!” it shouted in defiance as it then slit its own throat. Dark black blood gurgled out and sprayed the behemoth who was confused as to what was happening. The blood seemed to be coming from some other source and not the tiny creature that the larger beast held, spilling forth more and more till it began to cover and stick to the beast whom still held the smaller creature within its grasp.

Roaring in fear now the beast tried to throw the creature from its hand but found it stuck firmly to its palm. Soon the blood began to glow and to burn the creature whose roars of fear melted into roars of pain as its body was engulfed in a dazzling blue flame that seemed to only get brighter and brighter till a beacon shot forth and into the sky. Piercing the darkness for all to see, lasting for but a few seconds before just as soon as it came, just as soon it was gone. The world plunged into darkness once again.

Out from the rubble crawled the remaining friend, the hood lowered from his face revealing his small horns which gleamed slightly in the dying coals of his dead friend and the behemoth that held him. “I hope you are right my friend...this was indeed a high price to pay. I pray that the Gods have piety on us this day and grant that your death was not a waste” he lowered his head in honor of his friend, raised his hood and scurried off to be swallowed up by the darkness.

************************************************************************

The modern world seems to be lacking something for you all. No matter what you try and do there is always something that just seems lacking in your lives though you are not sure about the reason why. Now you are feeling the urge to return to that summer camp where you had spent your youth with your friends. Why you would want to go back to that place you are not sure but the urge is becoming ignorable and you just need to go and get it out of your system. Perhaps then you will be able to continue on with your lives? Perhaps this is the something that is lacking?

_________________

"Tyne!"

A slight mental jump later, and her eyes were sliding up with a casual sort of retort, moving to lock with the source of her mental interruption. Being her partner, despite the comments that came to mind, she remained silent, gaze turning a bit more cynical.

"If you're through zoning out, could we get back to work? We've a lot of files to go through and not a lot of time to do it," the man sneered, dropping yet another pile of papers onto her desk before leaving the room.

Following him as he left, Ephyra shut the door behind him, locking it with a heavy sigh, her small frame slumping against the cool surface. And, for a long while, she didn’t move from her place, eyeing the new pile of papers on her desk with a growing sense of dread. Even when she finally did manage to drag herself away from her only escape route, her steps, instead, moved about the entirety of her office, heels dragging on the floor all the while. This sense of dread only grew more pressing with each rise of her chest, with each breath inhaled, with each heart’s beat, at the prospect of new criminals to analyze.

It wasn’t even that she disliked her job. In fact, it was quite the opposite; She loved her job. Figuring out another’s inner motivations and predicting their next targets, it was fulfilling. It gave her a sense of purpose and life, accomplishment when her hunches and profiles proved correct.

Once more, she slouched, this time against the wall as a hand covered her eyes. How can I be losing my grip over something as simple as paperwork? Ephyra wondered, a groan loosing as her inner turmoil went unvoiced. It’s only paperwork. It’s what you need to find the clues that others have overlooked. What is so different this time around? That question, unfortunately, had no answer while she remained there, slowly sinking to the floor in her sudden bout of unease and hopelessness.

It was as she fought with herself to get a grip that a thought reverberated with her.

A thought she couldn't ignore.

Pushing away from the wall, there was a sort of harried rush for her desk, shoving file after file away until her fingers clutched piece she sought after. Scanning it again, memories filled her mind, memories of a (suddenly) monotonous time. …A time where she was happy.

She could almost see them, the group of friends she'd known so long ago, but lost contact with. Granted, she'd kept them in her thoughts, kept tabs on them far more than she probably should of…But the feeling of guilt wouldn't allow her to leave them be. Will they be there? the anxious woman wondered, staring hard at the letter held tightly in her grasp, debating. Will it be like old times? Will this feeling I have shake? There was no doubt she was going, no way she could avoid it. It was all a question of when.

Grabbing her purse and scooping up the pile of papers, Ephy marched down to Matthew's office, dropping them unceremoniously on his desk, a friendly smile on her face though her eyes remained cold. "If you're through slacking and not pulling your weight, these files won't read themselves. Thanks." With that, she walked back out, letting out a sigh, this time of relief. Even when her boss came to try and accost her, she shook her head, giving the standard excuse any criminal psychologist gives when they need a day off:

"If I don't get time off I require, you'll be profiling me. I only ask for a few days, you’ve ample staff, and I’ll be of clearer mind when I come back."

With little ado, she slid into her car, dropping her purse next to her on the seat, realizing the letter was still in hand. Pulling out her phone, she tapped in the address, turning her radio off so she could hear the spoken directions and started off. It was a peaceful ride, despite the length in almost complete silence, as it afforded her time to think. It didn't matter how long it took her, not really. In the grand scheme of things, it wouldn't have mattered if she had to walk there.

As long as she got there, she’d be content.

In what felt like no time, her car was parked in otherwise empty lot, stepping out onto the dirt road, a sound of frustration slipping free beneath her breath. Being that she'd come directly from work, she was still wearing work attire, something not really suited for a literal trek down memory lane. All she could really be thankful for was the small miracle that she'd not opted for higher heels. "I'll get it out of my system," she told herself. "I'll go in, hopefully see a few familiar faces, and leave. Simple." Smoothing a hand over her pencil skirt, she walked, the need propelling her forward. "It's something I need to do..." Something I need to do…

Whilst walking, she started growing hotter, so her jacket came off, slinging it over her shoulder just as the sign came into view. A small smile pulling at her lips, she nodded as if affirming to herself that she were really there. Sure, she was alone for the time being, but she was there for herself, no one else. It would only be an added bonus if she got to see the old crew again. Deciding to take a look around, a few stray hairs pulling free of her bun in the breeze, she wandered away from the first set of cabins she’d happened across, looking for any sign of life, anyone that could have actually called them.

"Hello?" Ephyra called, her melodic tones curious and tired. "Anyone else here?" Yes, because people often just materialize without any other means of transport to explain their existence, she chastised herself with a roll of her eyes as she pressed on.

She saw no one on the docks, no one in the fields, no one…anywhere. Perhaps I’m merely early… came another thought. Wandering back toward the front, Ephyra made for the benches, settling on one and waiting for more to show. If no one else shows, I’ll take one more look around and head home, she assured herself. They’ve got time yet.

_________________

Headlights danced across the trees, the grasping branches reaching out of the darkening depths of an overactive imagination. Every time she focused on them, the offending branches snapped back into reality, assuming their natural form and function once more.

The cheap rental hatchback rolled around another bend as Anja directed it with calm exactness, belying the furious, feverish nervousness she really felt. Emotions were something best kept in check. Still, she couldn't deny a sense of belonging here, as if the place was part of her or she of it. The old haunts she had spent a glorious, too short a time in with friends almost forgotten in the hectic mists of modern living. She hoped they were still there.

A sidelong glance down to the centre console brought here eyes to the small, white envelope. The shock she had felt upon finding it in her mailbox was still there, although to a somewhat lesser degree by now. She had spent an hour just looking into space, her mind roaring through the possibilities and the unfathomable apprehension that accompanied them. Her brother had called by and stood at the door for fifteen minutes, shouting her name until she had had the presence of mind to answer him.

A whirlwind of madness ensued. She had to cancel three interviews and a training date with the Army to get here. Not really because she wanted to, but because she felt she had to. Otherwise she would have felt... empty. There was more self deception there than she would like to admit. Anja liked to think that she was utterly independant of others, but some people made a good, solid impression on a young Danish girl who was way out of her depth in a foreign country so long ago.

Anja shook her head. Why had she even come? Was there a reason? Or was this all some childish fantasy she had concocted in her head? Only time would tell. Her uncertainties were not helped by muttering to herself.

"Det ved jeg ikke. Jeg ved virkelig ikke længere." Followed by a stern internal scolding.

"Få et greb, Anja."

She completed the rest of the trip in silence, glaring through the windscreen at the dirt road ahead. It was over much faster than she wanted it to be. And what's more, the car park wasn't empty. She had expected to be here alone, that no-one would show. How wrong could she be about this? Wrong enough, it seemed.

Pulling up and twisting the keys to the 'off' position, she exited slowly, taking the time to re-tie her bootlaces underneath the grey jeans and pull on the leather jacket that had cost so much over her simple blue shirt. There was no more stalling to be done. She had to go now. It was barely fifty metres to the front building, but it felt like a route march with the end in sight but never getting any closer.

She could see a figure on one of the benches, just waiting. Stopping in front of the woman, the slightest glimmer of recognition in her eyes, she spoke.

"This has been one hell of a trip down memory lane, no?"

(Translations: *I don't know. I really don't know anymore. *Get a grip, Anja.)

Jon jolted awake rubbing his cold blue eyes which had a dark undertone once again. Sleep has been eluding him like a smart mouse as it escapes the depths of a cat's claw. The woman resting between his warm hands, and legs was sleeping. Woman apparently liked their beauty sleep. Her name was probably similar to one of the many other woman he found himself in company with almost every other night. She was a client's relative. Her dyed sunlight blonde locks expressed that the woman thought herself classy. Was classy still classy if you slept with a slimy lawyer?

He moved his long arms from around the rather slim sunlight skin woman. Woman were like a fine dose of sunlight. The intensity changes everyday, and it never rises, or falls at the same time. This one would be like that sunrise that starts slow but slowly intensifies till it blinds the eyes, and makes an instinctive need to saunter back inside the cave of a home. A feeling lurked inside his stomach like poison. A poison that was not just satisfied by giving a quick death. He tried to shake the feeling off by distracting himself with a waft of a coconut smell from an air freshener. At least, the air smelled better than the woman next to him.

He stood up beside his bed grabbing the blanket that had just covered half his body, and place it neatly over the empty space beside the sunlight woman. After, his long athletic like feet, tanned from having Canadian skin , entered a large bathroom. There was a large clear mirror that spanned the right side wall of the bathroom like some sort of mirror from a fancy casino. A lengthy counter rested underneath the mirror made of marble, and tiny sparkles of sapphire, adorning the counter was a sink made of silver that had the common Knick knacks prepared for both men, and woman. Did having woman Knick knacks in his bathroom make him weird? A hot tub decorated in a white marble covered the left corner of the bathroom nearest the door. Candles, roses, and oil surrounded the tub. On the left wall was a rectangular shower that had tiles in ocean like colors on the wall. All in all, the room expressed every teenagers fantasy of what it must have been like to be rich.

He reached for maroon rectangular box that had a fancy brand name on it. The only item in the world that could satiate his insomnia. The faded yellowish paper with white slid between his perfectly white teeth. Really, perfect white teeth, and a smoker were truly an anomaly to the medical world. The puffs of smoke wafted in the bathroom twirling in the air like fluffy clouds on a nearly clear day. A silver ring sat on the counter next to a black razor. It gleamed in the room. His memory was fuzzy when it came to how he obtained the sunlight looking ring. Obviously, the ring was part of his child, but why did it seem to still fit his fingers now? Truly, the ring was a puzzle for him.

Wafts of swirling smoke were slowly covering the room, creating a weird feeling of uneasiness in him. Crisp air seared his throat as he breathed like the chilliest air from winter. The room should have been warm because of the natural heat from the sun, not chilly...like the middle of a winter storm.

His head slowly turned to stare at the mirror which was getting fogged up from the apparent wafts of smoke that were starting to feel more like a chilly morning fog than smoke. A shape started to develop in the mirror. The shape began to look like a face with glowing ruby eyes, and a crooked grin. His feet felt stunned like little electrical shocks were prickling them, and he could feel his heart beat pick up as his eyes were glued to the mirror. The face started to change into a different face. A face that reflected his dirty blonde streaks of hair, and sky blue eyes with soft caramel like skin.

He could feel his feet freezing against the tiles on the floor begin to react before fear lurched into his heart. They turned him, pounding against the white tiles, till he banged out of the bathroom, and appeared inside his bedroom. The sunlight woman had just groggily woken awoke, rubbing the emerald sockets of her eyes, before sitting up with her sunlight hair mated, and disheveled from slumber. " What the-"

“ Just go!Whatever your name is ...Andrea? Caroline?Who cares just go.” He spoke the words, while throwing her light purple thigh length dress at her, with the silver heels that must of came with the dress...did she have underwear? No? Who cared? In anger, she shoved the dress back on, slamming the shoes onto her feet, and stormed out of the room as if the insult was poison.
-----------------------------------------

Later that afternoon

A black sleek convertible veered to a stop as it pulled up along side a long road decorated with woods on either side of the woods. A tiny sign that looked tilted, and withered with age rested next to a dirt road a little further ahead. The words written on it were barely recognizable. On the seat next to him, there was a paper that had written in bold " Camp Running River, Welcomes you to our reunion celebration. Reconnect with our old friends, and regain pat memories. This is a celebration you won't soon forget."

The paper was a letter but it wasn't so much the words that had him curious of the invitation. It was the past memories part. Most kids remember their days at camp but he could hardly place what went on here. Did he want these memories back?

Who would be there to greet him? Would he remember them? Fear ate at him like a little kid about to sing on the stage for the first time ever. Stage fright? The letter had been given to him about a week ago.

He made it to the campsite with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He could hear a few woman talking to each other. “ Hey ladies.” The word was not meant to be as seductive as it sounded.

_________________

Ten minutes down the road a boxy, yellow car never intended for going further than the corner store and back, struggles with the country approach. It’s the kind of car you can hear start up from across town, it’s noise so unique, so distinctive to its owner that they either paid a small fortune getting it to sound like it or they need to pay a small fortune to get it to stop.
Its driver is scarcely visible over the wheel. Passing traffic would only see the rolling onslaught of Nana-geddon on wheels jittering towards them, a bright puff of artificial red weave, the full moon-flashes of her glasses and a tiny, frail set of dark hands on the wheel, each laden up with a small mining company’s worth of gemstones. Engine smoke curling in her hair and passing overhead sodium bulbs glistening in her dentures, Mammy Rose-Arley was the fiercest girl in her Bingo Hall, but you wouldn’t have known it until you gave her wheels.

Her son, towering next to her in the passenger’s seat, often joked she was like the mole man from The Simpsons when she was driving and often pointed out cars that were likely turning off so they didn’t have to share the same road, he didn’t know how right he was. Today, listening to her ‘quietly’ fuming away even under the dulcet tones of BB King on the stereo, he found himself mildly fearing for his life. Even the dog picked up on it and squirmed irritably in his lap with a huffy, tired-old-man sigh that all dogs seem capable of, metal tags on his collar clicking against the buttons on Atticus’ coat.

“So what… is this like a little get together with your old chums or what?” Mammy Rose finally broke the silence that had built between them since they’d passed the last sign outta town. It sounded like conversation made for the sake of conversation.

Atticus sighed, scritching the soft flesh at the base of Dylan’s floppy ears hoping for a gesture of comfort, but only further wound the critter up. The mutt knocked his fingers away with a scolding nudge of his scruffy, bearded snout. “I can only presume, Ma,”

“Nahnonono! I mean is there gon’ be a barbeque and beers or are they going full on Summer Camp for grown ups? Not that I think that would be any fun whatsoever. It’s the height of bug-season, the foods never cooked through and the beds they give you…” her shudder of distaste morphed into an all-out scowl as she navigated a particularly sharp bend, mechanics groaning their distress as she battled it out of second gear. The roads started to grow a little wild the further you strayed from civilisation and their crappy jalopy lurched from one angle to the next like it planned to walk the next hundred miles instead of rolling.
Something internal started rattling angrily as they swung out of the turn. Another loose bolt perhaps, hopefully nothing bigger. It should have been comical, another ‘feature’ of their crappy, yellow matchbox car, it complimented the doorframes that sloshed with trapped rainwater and a horn that left you with the startling impression you’d run over something fluffy and cute, but neither passed a comment on it. Today it was one of their many elephants in the room, the car, but it was only a little one, a cat sized elephant, so they could afford to play ignorant until they could afford to pay into it. Every turn of the wheels was an unspoken passing miracle, both knew it and neither mother nor son wanted to jinx it.

“I don’t know, Ma.” Atticus pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his knuckles into his brow, a nervous gesture that had followed him from childhood. Mammy Rose could remember him doing the same thing on their initial drive up oh so many years ago, but the memories were fresh enough that it irked her all over again and she suddenly didn’t like the way the rings on his fingers pressed little pale indents into her boys beautiful skin.
Anxiety is a proximity disease at times.

“Well what did your invite tell you?” she snapped, probably sounding less charitable than intended.

“I don’t know. You were the one that read it…” then as she started rummaging through the glove box, “What the hell are you doing woman?!”

“I’m getting it! The letter!” she snapped back, smacking the little door shut and shaking the poor jalopy down to the frame, “And don’t call your mother ‘woman’, please!”

Atticus buried his face further behind his hand, “Oh God help us—please watch the road Mammy!”

“Don’t be taking His name in vain either!” he was sure she’d shot him The Look. He could feel it burning a hole in his head like the red dot of a sharp shooter, “You’re not too big that I won’t smack your ass still, boy! Come off it! How long has it been since you last noticed anyone else on the road anyway?”

It was a fair question… he hadn’t heard the rumble or felt the windy rush of anyone pass them by in a while. These were the long empty stretches of nowhere between the somewhere’s and they got awful wide at this end of the Country. It was unsettling. The whole goddamn day had felt persistently unsettled, the pressure of a coming storm rode the air in stuffy, electric waves though there wasn’t a cloud in sight. As their ride rocked on the drifting tectonic plates of asphalt Atticus felt like the sailor creeping into icy seas, they felt to be skirting over the yawning maw of something cold and dark, safe in their little vessel, but with promising threat all around ‘em.

Atticus didn’t know…

He couldn’t put words to it, things just didn’t feel ‘right’…

Quietly he wondered if the eerie quiet was prophetic at all. Would they have left the house at all if it had felt right? Sure, the invitation was inviting (wasn’t that the point of them in the first place?) and the prospect of catching up with the ol’ gang was pretty damn exciting one he’d loved the guys, but it wasn’t worth getting them both stranded with their scrap-heap-fit car and the gas money to ferry ‘em there.

“Nope… no cars,” he admitted finally with a sigh of defeat. Dylan growled softly, settling back into the faux-fur snug of his master’s lap and, more importantly, the snug of his beauty sleep.

“And you can’t exactly read it!” Mama-Rose growled. Harsh words to aim at a blind man out of context, but they’d been rowing about it that morning, Atticus had to stop her flying to the phone like Valkyrie on war path, “they could have sent it in brail! It’s not like they don’t know!”

“Mammy! I could still see when I was back at school!” he groaned again, the same words still all too familiar, “They didn’t have to invite us at all!”

Mammy Rose’s scowl deepened and she began to tap at the steering wheel with her fingers, paper rustling pointedly between the car and her harpyesque acrylics, “Yes, but if they ARE going to, they could at least--”

In no mood to repeat himself an umpteenth time, he cut her off with a dismissive wave of the hand that probably upset Vince more than it did her, “It’s an invitation Mammy, not an insult wrapped around a rock and thrown at the window!”

The old girl pursed her lips and bit back whatever retort she had and saved it to sling at him later, “You want me to read it or not?” she huffed instead.

Atticus laughed in disbelief, almost enjoying the ridiculous mini-fight suddenly, “No! You wanted to read it again! Not me!”

“I’m sure you wanted me to read it again….” All the bluster had blown clean from her tone, like a fart in a hurricane.

“No!” Atticus shook his head, not even bothering to fight the wide grin, “That’s your bag Ma!”

This ruffled her feathers and she puffed up all upright in her chair, “Then what the hell we arguing for?! I’ll just read the damn thing!”

Atticus shrugged, “No you won’t,”

“What?! I thought you wanted me to read it?!”

“NO! YOU wanted to read it! I already told you that!” he cracked up, “You wanted to read it… but you won’t!”

“What…?? Oh shut up! You’re confusing me now! Why on earth not…?” she shot him another sideways glance, trying to read her sons expression, but he just grinned at her like the snake must have Eve, like he’d done when he’d left the television on the kids channel as a tot and artfully hidden the remote, like his father before him had done when he’d slipped ahead of the queue and bought the young Miss Rose-Arlen’s ticket as an excuse to meet her for the first time.

“Because you won’t get the chance,” Atticus said in an ominous purr.

“Now you’re just being cryptic!” she scolded, “Now why, pray tell, am I not going to read this letter—I mean look, I’m doing it right now! … ‘Memories from a forgotten past await--’ whatchya s’pose that means?”

“You won’t finish it,” the cool as cucumber matter-of-fact tone of his voice was suspicious… suddenly she realized why.

“You’ve been corner counting!” her eyes lit up behind her specs. Something he’d discovered in his early teens as a form of amusement during long car journeys… probably an anxious habit, a way of keeping track of their whereabouts where his eyes couldn’t Mama figured was more likely, but he’d never admit it. Atticus had a bad habit of holding onto problems under the false pretence that he could handle them… didn’t we all, but that kind of pride… it just wasn’t practical for him any longer…
Her face dropped as the predatory shadow of a parental failing briefly passed over her conscience. Sometimes she was glad he couldn’t catch her off guard expressions…

“I’ve been corner counting!” He affirmed cheerily enough, he’d been scaring Ma (and bus drivers that hadn’t already learned better) with this one for years, people double-took something wicked when a blind man gave ‘em directions, “To be honest, I’m actually a bit concerned you ain’t seeing nothing already… Can’t be more’n two or three turns away now!”

“You’ve counted wrong?” She suggested with a slim shrug and this time he shot her the sharp-shooter look, “Alright, alright,” fingers up from the steering wheel in a universal truckers retreat, “I’m just saying last time we came up there were all smoke and what coming up from campfires or chimneys or something. I don’t see ****, son! You think we’ve been punked?”

He was going to ask her who used the phrase ‘punked’ any more, but didn’t get a chance to reply. The jalopy swung like a drunken ballerina and Mammy Rose squealed, “I see a car park!”

“Congratulations Mammy!” Atticus pulled a face, but she was far too busy getting excited to pay him any mind.

“Oh Good Lord! There are peeps there!” she jumped on her seat like a seven year old in desperate need of a pee. Leather squealed against fabric, Atticus cracked up and Vince growled quietly to himself irritably, “Oh… it looks like… OH! OH! THERE’S EPHYRA! Little Ephy! Look at her lovely blonde hair and, goodness, that figure! And Anja! You remember Anja—she’s--”

“Does she look grouchy?” He laughed.
“She was a very serious child,” Mama agreed reluctantly failing to see the humour in it, she’d fallen in love with all those kids back in the day, they did right by her boy and that ranked ‘em third in her books, just behind Atticus and Jesus, but she’d never hung out with ‘em. Share the giggle she could not. “Don’t you be teasing her any!”

No, but he’d tease Mammy instead, “Not even a little bit of name-calling or chewing gum in her hair?”

“Atti, son, I’ll be happy if you want to bring either of those lovely ladies back to meet me, but if they come with chewing gum in their hair I’m taking a blow torch to yours! Dreadful things! You look like a seagull got in there to nest and died instead!”

“Mammy!”

“And just make sure to bring Jon for me, Lord have mercy, that ass does not!”

“Jon’s there?” Atti leaned forwards in his chair as if to get a better view.

“Mmmm every bit o’ him!” their car swung in to park and she shot the handsome young devil a wave and a wink out of the window.

“Mammy! You knew him as a boy!” he didn’t know whether to be horrified or amused.

“Is there any shame in wanting to know him as man, then?” She laughed and pulled up the hand break and turned the engine-caput-key, “You can see to yourself while I go catch up?” and then, when she caught his expression, added very quickly and not without a little hint of a whine, “You get to see them all evening or weekend or whatever! All I’m asking is a quick hello!”

Atticus rolled his eyes and opened his door, letting Vince stumble to the turf below and stretch his little legs, “I ain’t stopping you!” he rolled his eyes, “I’ve gotta get my **** out the boot anyway. Knock yourself out,”

“Can I knock Jon out as well? Drag him back to the cave and--” Mammy howled with laughter watching the boy (well, a man she supposed. A thirty-something year old man… how did that happen!) fluster and tell her off in a hushed tones. It wasn’t even all that funny, just it was such a happy scenario you couldn’t help but to laugh!
On that note she skipped off to go and get a look at them all, howling her joy the whole walk. Commenting on how big they’d gotten and wanting a look at them all.

Atticus slipped out and sank behind the car hauling open the boot and slinging his pack out and over one shoulder, smiling to himself warmly all the while, listening out for his mother’s chattering and, more importantly, any familiarity in any of the replies. Place still smelled the same, something minty in the trees here chased through the air and lit up a fuzzy, nostalgic bit of his brain like Christmas.

There was more to it than that. Something still, still felt off, but with the pre-occupation of good cheer it fell to the backburner, “Sorry we’re late folks!” he shouted up ahead in their general direction, “Mammy made me drive the first hour or so!”

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Damn straight I'm good in bed! I could sleep for days! :3