Voices became more distinct as Aloy approached a cluster of homes lined along the sides of the trail. Twenty or so Nora villagers were standing about in a disorganized circle in the center of the trail, talking mostly to themselves. Aloy didn't recognize any of them – she hadn't had the chance, or frankly, the interest, to get to know many of the Nora – but she could see that a few were dressed in leather and metal hunting garb, carrying weapons, clearly early risers preparing to venture out on a hunt. Others appeared to still be in sleeping attire and not yet fully awake.
As she approached the circle, Aloy knew what would come next, and she wasn't disappointed: as the Nora realized she was among them, they stepped aside, forming a path for her, muttering the now-familiar "It's the Anointed One" or "Child of the All-Mother" or similar phrases. If just one of them would say something cheery and conversational, like "Good Morning, how are you?" – what a treat that would be! Aloy thought as she walked among them. Her stature with the Tribe may have changed since the Proving and the incidents that ensued, but her feeling of alienation had not: she was still not one of them, would never be just an ordinary Tribe member among the Nora.
Once the gathered crowd had parted, Aloy could see what had caused the clamor: a single boy, perhaps not yet a teenager, dressed in light Carja clothing, doubled over with hands on hips as he gasped to catch his breath. Wisps of white fog that came with every exhale confirmed that he was struggling to breath. He was clearly very tired, underdressed for the cold and snowy mountains, and he appeared to be on the verge of collapse. More and more Nora were coming to see the commotion, some ready for the hunt, some just out of bed. But none of them made an effort to help this poor boy as he alternatively shivered and panted. His blonde hair was drenched with what was probably sweat, but might have been melted snow, or even river water, considering the swelling of the local streams. His very thin tunic was also wet, and Aloy thought him to be only a few shivers away from death.
Aloy approached the boy, and for a moment he seemed to stop shaking and panting – even breathing, as his breath no longer formed a fog before him – as he looked up to see Aloy walking towards him. But then he returned to shaking uncontrollably and wrapped his arms tightly across his chest, as if to salvage the last bit of warmth he had left.
She softly placed a hand on his shoulder and led him in the direction of a campfire ring just steps away. He's about to collapse! she thought, as he stumbled and almost passed out, from either Aloy's kind touch or the magnitude of her presence. She gestured at a log bench beside the campfire ring and bade him sit. Then, as she moved to the fire ring to gather kindling to start a fire, a villager stepped forward and took the kindling from her hand, neatly placing the pile of wood in the ring to start a fire. The villager was the young stitcher Teb: she had saved his life when she was but a child and he was a young man, and he was one of the few Nora who had befriended her when she was an outcast. Without speaking, Teb stacked the kindling, ignited a spark, and in seconds had the beginnings of a campfire going.
Aloy turned her attention back to the shivering stranger. "We'd better get you warm or you won't be with us much longer!" she said as she removed the boarskin sack from over her shoulder and prepared to roll it open. "I'm sure I've got something here that will help a little bit."
But before Aloy could pull her winter cover from the sack, a heavy fox-fur cloak was slung around the boy – it was Teb again, with one of his now-famous articles of clothing. Teb was a failure as a hunter – a fact that was almost a crime in a tribe of hunters – but his skill for stitching beautiful and functional clothing made him accepted by the Nora. At least, accepted as a much-less-than-equal member of the Tribe.
Teb also brought a mug of some warm liquid, which Aloy assumed was either an herbal tea or a broth that Teb had brewed for his own breakfast.
These kind acts had their intended effect: eventually the boy's shivering became more subdued, color returned to his face, and he seemed to be recovering from his ordeal. Some of the Nora who had been milling about, talking hushed tones, now moved on to get back to their daily routines: hunting, caring for their children, or maybe returning to bed. The few who remained still seemed unconcerned for the boy, but more simply were curious, wanting to know why he showed up in Mother's Heart in such a condition. They continued to talk amongst themselves, and Aloy could just make out a few of the words: a mix of interest in the boy and interest in the actions of the Anointed One.
After several minutes of silently sitting on the bench beside the boy and waiting for him to recover, Aloy finally spoke.
"What happened to you? Why are you so underdressed?"
The boy was startled by her voice; compared to the relative silence in the village and the subdued crackling of the campfire, her voice seemed especially loud. He flinched when she spoke, and she felt the bench shake noticeably.
"I… I… knew it was you," the boy whispered, perhaps with apprehension, perhaps with awe. "I knew… when I saw you…"
"I get that reaction a lot, it seems," Aloy replied. "Who are you looking for?"
"It's… it's you. I just… I didn't expect…" the boy stuttered.
"What did you expect? If you came to find me, what were you expecting?"
"I don't know… I was sent here by the Sun-King Avad himself. He… he described you, but you are even more… you're even prettier than he said."
Aloy felt a bit of blush, and certainly she was flattered to think that the Sun-King Avad, the 14th King of the Carja Tribe, might have described her in such a way; but she was also even more concerned now, determined to find out what brought the boy many miles from the mountain city of Meridian to the hills of the Nora. It couldn't be simply to pass on the King's flatteries.
