As she took a long look at the bright, shining moon, she tried to remember the last part of the incantation. If she could only remember. It would drastically improve her chances of finding the Others. Before it was too late. Before They hurt her again. She sat down on a cool and familiar rock to rest. She settled down, her fatigue finally catching up with her. I’m so tired. Has it only been a day? It feels as thought it’s been weeks. Giving into her weariness, Atalanta settled down on the cool ground to regain her strength.

As she closed her eyes, she remembered the kind and soothing voice of her grandmother. “Atalanta… If only things could be different. I’m so sorry. You are the ‘mighty bearer.’ Things will have to be different from now on… If I could only prepare you for what is to come…” That was the last time she ever saw her grandmother. Why did she have to call me Atalanta? Why does my name have to be the “mighty bearer?” She knew of course that such thoughts of anger were hopeless. It had been the oracle that had told her dear grandmother that it was absolutely necessary to give her that name. Her grandmother had no way of knowing. Besides, it was better this way. They would have found her anyway, and having another name would hinder only the Others, and not Them. She needed to stop thinking. It would be daylight in a few hours. She needed to sleep.

Drifting away into the land of dreams, Atalanta let out a small cry. It was a cry of sadness and pain.

The sky was bright, blue and clear. The sun was shining and birds were calling out in the distance. She saw a small boy with bright, shining green eyes. He was smiling at her. As he ran to her, he held a brightly wrapped gift in his small hands. “Happy Ninth Birthday Atalanta!” he called. He came toward her, but suddenly a dark shadow surrounded him. As the darkness cleared, she saw his face. The bright, beaming face of her brother was replaced with an empty look of horror. He never spoke again. During the course of the next few days he ate less and less, until he stopped eating all together. Exactly one week later, he passed away.

Jumping up with a start, and drenched in sweat, Atalanta breathed heavily. She had had that dream again. It had been an accident; or so she had thought. She knew better now. It all made sense after yesterday. She now understood the “accidents” that had taken away every person she loved; every person she cared for. They had to be stopped. And with the help of the Others, she could do it. She had to. She was the “mighty bearer."