They traveled through the darkness together, but not together. A great divide lay between man and woman - something he had no right to breach - and so he would protect in the dogged way he was taught to protect. Following diligently, silently, until his charge chose to rest. During their journey Atlas had been eager to call out, to sooth whatever itch lent itself to the woman's paws, but he knew better. If she wanted to continue, they would continue. His role was minimal at best; a test to prove his loyalty and spirit, which were both in great excess. He lurked just out of visible range for the majority of their journey. Atlas wanted to be the rock which the Adept could lean on, he wanted to be the perfect consort, and had fashioned himself thus; however, no manner of kindness or ample patronage to the sea-born would grant him this. At least not from Akantha.
So Atlas hurried along. When their paths converged he was granted a paltry glance of her tar-streaked figure, or the barest glance from her verdant gaze, and he was set swooning. The expression was never gleeful when they encountered one another. In fact, it seemed as if Akantha was positively chilled when their company was shared - but this too, he could live with. It was the way of things. Atlas was not about to fight against the natural order to that extent.
It was during one of his mindless, eager-to-catch-up charges, that he heard her voice: Not a first, but a rarity.
I've found you!
The Adept's voice rang true through the trees, and Atlas was upon her within moments. He slipped around the gathered pair in silent obedience, not wishing to interrupt their reunion. A deft nod was the only subtle welcome he granted to Psamanthe as it was expected of him.