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The aging golduck's heart skipped a beat. The boy's tone... Found the horse. Tied. He didn't like the sound of this. Stan's word's echoed. He felt as though he had a rock in his stomach as he took Malo's hand. Pitchfork. Muttering. It didn't sound like his little boy, not his little Atticus, yet at the same time he had his doubts. Animals had been found dead on the premises after all. Dissected, they were, and due to that it was impossible for them to determine that they had, in fact, died of natural causes or had been roadkill.

"Lead me."

What he found was bone chilling. His eyes focused on Atticus's, which were wide as saucers with fear. There were no tears, only fear. He was shaking like a leaf, but what was before him... There was so much blood. He only saw his child's eyes and the blood. He felt sick. So sick that he did not notice that there wasn't a speck of blood on the boy. He'd only remember that detail later, when doubting his own memory.

"A-a-atticus. Come with me."

"P-papa, this isn't wh-wha---"

"ATTICUS COME WITH ME." The force of his words silenced the boy, who'd never had a voice raised at him in his short life. He'd always been so well behaved, if peculiar. He was still trembling when Rett released his hold on Malo's hand and grabbed the boy rather forcefully. All the while feeling somewhat relieved that it had been a horse and not a man that the boy had murdered.