They stop for a while after the owlbear attack. Nat is feeling none too good, and everyone but Sherlock is out of magic for the day. Doc helps to treat his scratches, and, naturally, Atlas falls into a sunny patch of grass to rest.
In short time, Atlas is asleep. When Volare catches a glimpse of him, he does a double take, because in the golden afternoon light, Atlas is, inarguably, beautiful - torn straight from a temple's gallery. He is no longer just a cleric of the light, but light itself. A demigod napping in the grass and at home in the sun.
When the time comes to hit the road again, Volare can hardly bear to wake him.