It was the small bloody hand Fauks had noticed first. In all his travels, this was the last thing he expected or wanted to see, but there it was laying in the road in front of him. Fauks had once been called Nora but spent most of his life living alone past The Cut inhabited by the Banuk. After every annual thaw, he would make the long trip to Meridian, the capital city of the Carja, to sell his carvings and collection of machine parts and to stock up on supplies for the next cold season. Billit, a mess of mostly scavenged watcher and grazer parts Fauks had pieced together piecemeal, pulled the wooden cart of supplies Fauks had purchased (and in a couple of cases won in games of chance) to be taken back home for the season. Home. That's all Fauks wanted; to be home. And he was so close too. Just a half day's journey. But the bloody hand, he knew, could complicate the rest of his trip.
He almost missed it, the little bloody hand. The sun had not quite crested the top of the mountains on that crisp late spring morning, so long shadows stretched over the trail, and it was still concealed in darkness. The blood was dried a dark brown, just darker than the dirt the hand was laying in, and it was just barely sticking out of the tall red grass that lined the trail. The path circumnavigated a bandit camp and Fauks risked taking it as a shortcut. He was eager to get home, and if there were any bandits about, he was sure they would be in their camps sleeping, trying to stay warm, sleeping off the previous night's drink and meat at this cold early hour in the morning. Nothing ever happened this early in the morning. At least, not usually. The small bloody hand sticking out of the grass, he knew, disproved that and complicated his navigational decision.
He tugged a cord hanging from Billit to stop it and the cart. Fauks was tired from business dealings in Meridian and from days of walking next to Billit and the cart of goods. Hopefully, he thought, the hand belonged to a corpse and there would be nothing to be done save to whisper a quick prayer he learned from childhood, and continue on home. He supposed that if he were to cross paths with anybody, a corpse was probably the best. They asked for nothing, told no tales, and shared no secrets of you with others. He wanted to walk past, but he knew he had to see what was attached to the small bloody hand.
Fauks inhaled deeply through his nostrils, pressed the air out slowly through pursed lips, and nodded to himself. He draped Billet's cord over what one could assume was the machine's neck and surveyed the surroundings. This better not be a trap, he groaned to himself. Sensing no danger, he slowly put one foot in front of the other until he was nearly within reach of the blood-stained hand. With a deep breath, he stood over the hand, crouched down, and parted the tall red grass to reveal the secret it was hiding. Dried blood covered a cloth and leather-bound wrist. A plated arm. A pelt-covered shoulder. And then he saw her face.
The woman's hair was as red as the blood drying in it. He could see a streak of freckles across her nose and her cheeks, even under the smears of mud and the dirt and hair caked to matted blood. Reddened debris stuck to the blood on her face and her body; grit, grass, and even a metal-looking shard by her ear. Fauks paused a brief moment to take in the sight when movement attracted his stare: a couple of hairs crossing her face fluttered at her dry pale lips. Is that breath, or just a breeze? The query repeated over in his mind in alarm until the thought finally came to answer it. He cupped his hand to her cheek and tapped softly several times. "Hey! HEY! Are you okay?" he gasped. "You idiot! What kind of question is that!? Obviously, she's not okay!" he reprimanded himself quietly.
The bloodstained girl suddenly hissed out a breath from her lips and gently moaned, her head rolled ever so slightly back and forth in his palm. And then she returned to her stationary silence. His mind raced faster than a raging ravager. Who is she? What happened to her? She needs medical help! What should I do? If there were any answers, they came much slower than the questions that were spilling out. He tried to slow his raging mind, give himself a chance to grasp onto any answer buzzing quickly past. The answers that he did have were that she needed medical attention. He had supplies in his wagon but hardly anything that would be of much use. He was far from any Banuk settlement and the closest people were the bandits in their stronghold that he was much too close to as it was. And, the answer he liked the least was that the best chance of aiding the bloody woman was to take her home.
He spat out an obscenity as he made his decision. He shot up out of the grass and ran to his wagon. "Billit!" he shouted to his patchwork cart pulling machine, "I hope I don't regret doing this!" Fauks leaped up into his small wagon and in a fever rearranged its contents. Bags of grains and flour made a foundation that he then covered by a wool blanket. He ran back to the woman, took a deep breath, and stooped down. As gently as he could, he slid one arm under her knees and the other arm under her shoulders. With one great thrust of his legs, he picked up the young woman, a staff fell from her hands as they rose. Fauks carried the limp but breathing body to the cart and, with as much tenderness as he could muster in his rush, laid her across the bed of blanketed bags.
As she lay in his cart, he took a brief moment to scan her for injuries he wouldn't have been able to see when she was hidden in the tall grass. Small cuts were scattered over her exposed skin. A metal shard, possibly some type of arrowhead, was stuck in her shoulder. It looked as if it struck her clavicle which kept it from penetrating any deeper. The leather that shod her left foot stretched out, it was clear her ankle was swelling, and he hoped it was just sprained. He could be no help if it was broken. He took the loose end of the blanket and draped it over her to keep her body warm, then he ran back to the tall grass where he discovered her. He picked up the odd staff that fell from her hand, and, in a moment found a bow and quiver of arrows close by. He grabbed them all up, set them in the wagon next to the new bloody payload, and grabbed the cord draped over his patchwork cart pulling machine. "Let's go Billit!" he commanded, tugging on the cord. "I built you with only one speed, but we've got to hurry home."
The bodies were everywhere. He found the bandits he was hoping so hard to avoid. Less than one hundred paces and cresting a small climb after picking up one body, Fauks had found theirs. The rocky field was littered with the corpses of the nearby bandit encampment. Most of the bodies were riddled with arrows topped with red and yellow fletching reaching up like tulips growing on graves. After slowly stalking into the field, he realized there was no hope for life in any of these bodies. Arrows penetrated eye sockets, bloody holes where ribs once were, hands and arms were entirely missing. One bandit had been burned to death, and the body was still smoking.
Fauks bent over and broke the morning silence with the strain of dry heaving. He had not eaten breakfast yet; he felt his body demand that something, anything, be expelled. He grasped one hand to his stomach and the other bracing himself up off the ground as he gasped for air and spat out strings of saliva. And in between his gasps is when he heard the sound. He tried his best to hold his breath to listen to the rustling grass, to hear where it was coming from, to see who was creating it. The rustling started to circle around him. Fauks burst an exhale of relief that scared the pilfering fox away. "Ho! Just a fox! It had me going for a sec..." His thought stopped short by the screeching war cry. He looked up to see rage-filled eyes burning down on him through a bandit mask, twin blades reaching up to a crescendo to be brought down on him. Thwunk. The rage-filled bandit flopped down to the ground, the blades he held in each hand had fallen to the dirt. An arrow was now lodged between his ribs. Fauks heard the bandit give his last exhale, gurgling the blood now filling his lung. And then, all he could hear was the stampeding sawtooth that acted as his heart. Slowly, he turned his head back to the trail behind him. The woman with blood-red hair was sitting up in his cart, bow in one hand, the other drawn back open near her ear. Then, after a pause, the bow fell from her hand, and she gasped in pain as she clutched her wounded shoulder and dropped onto her back.
The shivering in his hands wouldn't stop. He looked down at the limp lifeless body of the bandit who sprang above him and nearly ended his life. He backed away from the body as if it still has some unseen power over him, and then sprinted towards the girl in his cart, in part out of fear from the dead bandit and in part out of fear for her wellbeing. How she pulled that bowstring back with her injured shoulder marveled him. And still with such accuracy! She sucked air in through gritted teeth as tears ran down the sides of her face, dragging a line of dirt down to her ears.
"Easy! Hold still! Hold still!" Fauks cooed to the girl as he stood aside from her. He fumbled the lid of a wooden box at the front of his cart that stored his traveling gear and retrieved a metal canister, hands still shaking. He unscrewed the lid and placed the canister in the red dirty hand of her good arm; the hand he first saw sticking out of the grass. "Here, it's water, just water. Drink up! Please!" She pushed a few breaths from her lips and then drew the canister up and started to pour. Her hands were shaking too. Fauks set his shaky hand on hers in hopes to settle the jug, he could see it only help a little. The water that fell on her cracked lips disappeared as though they were coarse sponges. When she had her fill, he screwed the lid back on and placed it back in the box it came from, reached forward for Billit's cord, and pressed out a quick puff of air deep from his lungs as he tugged at the cord. The cart gave a small lurch as Billit started to walk forward, Fauks waking aside with his hand resting on the cart's short wall next to his new companion.
"Thank you." the girl managed to breathe out. Sitting up and drawing that bow winded her, he knew. "Um, thank you," He replied. "You, you saved my life with that shot! My name's Fauks." He didn't know what he was saying, words just spilled out his mouth; the words that sound like pleasant conversation when talking to a lady, which, apparently, were the same words you use when talking to a bloody injured huntress who shot an arrow over your shoulder and killed someone for you. "That was quite the shot! How did you... I mean, was... was that all you? All those bandits?"
She nodded her red braided head, and in a moment breathed out, "Yes. It was all me." Fauks gave her a moment, and in time she continued, "The men had been stealing and murdering from people nearby. I came to investigate. I saw what they had stolen, I saw who they murdered, I heard what their plans were. Their awful vile plans. So, I stopped them." The words in his head of what he should say suddenly stopped, only to be replaced with silent disbelief.
"Fauks," the girl finally continued. "Where are we going?"
"Oh, uh, I... You're badly hurt, and there's only so much I can do for you here on the trail. There's no one nearby, and you've killed all the people around here, so, the best shot at helping you is to get you back to my home. It's only a few hours. Slightly longer if the trail is muddy. I have plenty of medicine and supplies. We can get that thing out of your shoulder and patch you up there, get you cleaned up."
Exhausted, she replied, "Thank you Fauks. I don't usually ask for help. But, I'm in no position to refuse!"
"Consider yourself in good hands, uh, um... I'm sorry." he stammered, trying to sound collected. "I don't know your name, huntress."
"Aloy." the girl with the bloody hand said. "My name is Aloy."
It was the best cheese she had ever tasted. Fauks let her nap, she was asleep for about an hour. Exhausted as she was, she didn't sleep much. The bumps in the hard trail Billit kept hitting and the pain in her body wouldn't allow her any more sleep that morning. When she woke, Fauks brought back out the container of water along with a pouch of hard cheese and pine nuts, which started to rejuvenate her.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize how hungry I was. I don't want to eat all your cheese, but it's amazing." Aloy beamed.
"Have your fill. There's much more waiting for us. I'm glad you like it." Fauks beamed back. "The secret is keeping the curds the right temperature. Oh, and using the right milk. Sheep or goat milk works great. Getting badger milk, on the other hand, is not fun! Trust me on that!" She appreciated the joke. She would have a difficult search of her memory to think on the last time she enjoyed such a conversation. In fact, it had been so long, she didn't know how to play along, so she put another piece of cheese in her mouth and smiled to herself.
THUNK! A wheel hit a rock in the trail the jostled the cart along with the passenger in it. Aloy hummed out in agony as she felt pain shoot through her injured body.
"Oh! I'm so sorry about that!" Fauks regretted to the girl. "Billit just walks forward automatically. He's a good cart puller, but not a very thoughtful one."
"I didn't know other people could override the machines."
"Override? I don't know what that is." Fauks confessed.
"Oh, I see, well, I have a component on my spear. If I get close enough to a machine for just long enough, I can control it for a short amount of time. It's come in quite handy for me. I'm more used to riding machines than being pulled by one!"
"You can control machines, AND RIDE THEM?" he burst out in disbelief. "That's unbelievable!"
"No," she retorted, "your cheese is unbelievable. Overriding the machines is just a part of what I do. If you can't override machines, then how are you controlling, Billit? Is that what you call it?"
Fauks thought for a moment on how to reply. "I actually made Billit. Or repaired him you might say. Two seasons ago I was scavenging for parts. I was following a herd of watchers. They got too close to a sawtooth that tore them all to pieces. When it was safe, I came out of hiding to grab my fill of parts. That's when I found this guy! His tail and a good portion of his head were destroyed, but his legs still had power and they just kept kicking in the air. I brought him back home and, with a bunch of odd parts, I got him working again! He's not much to look at, and he's really only good for pulling a cart when it's warm or a sled when it's cold, but he sure is helpful!"
"That's amazing you were able to piece it together." Aloy said with genuine awe. "So, how did you come to name it Billit?"
"It was basically the sound the servos in his legs kept making over and over as his legs kicked in the air as I dragged him home on a sled." He tried to copy the sound that gave the machine its name, and he quickly realized how silly he must have sounded. Aloy allowed herself to show a small smile after she put another piece of cheese in her mouth.
"Fauks! Stop the cart! We're in danger."
Fauks, without hesitation, reached forward and tugged the cord on Billit. The machine came to a standstill and the cart lurched to a stop behind it. With anxious curiosity, he gazed at Aloy for more information.
She held a finger to her lips, signaling him to remain silent. "Can you hear it?" she asked in a lulled tone. "Just up the ridge," she inferred with her ears, "a small heard, four or five maybe. We need to go around."
"What? A heard of what?" he leaned in, as she took complete control of his attention.
She whispered one word. "Tramplers."
Aloy watched Fauks immediately turn around and scurry to the side of the trail. Without a sound, he crawled up the embankment, over the rise, and disappeared. She held her breath and listened, for what felt like hours. The pain of sitting and not being able to scout the situation herself was almost more painful than her injured shoulder or ankle.
The moments stretched on until she heard him shuffle back down the embankment. "You were right!" he murmured out. "You were absolutely right! Up the trail, not too far off, there's five tramplers. Another couple of minutes and we would have walked right into them!" Then, as if he was reading her mind, "Good news is we can easily skirt around them, should only add fifteen or twenty minutes to our trip." She was relieved they remained undetected. "Bad news," he continued, "is it's off the trail for a bit, so it's going to be extra bumpy in this cart for you."
They side skirted the herd of deadly machines, Aloy's teeth were rattled from the bumpy detour, and eventually they made it back to the trail.
"That's the second time you've saved my life today, and it's not yet even noon!" Fauks beamed to the woman in his cart who was caked in dried blood yet somehow smiling.
"No," Aloy retorted, "You saved my life. I just haven't stopped returning the favor!"
"You're Nora, aren't you?" Fauks finally asked. He knew the moment her hoisted her body out of the grass. He could tell from the way she plated her body with refurbished machine parts, the way the leather was quilted across her apron and her boots, the way the leather straps were tied around her boots and wrist guards. He could tell from the beads in her necklace, the way her copper red hair was braided back from her face, the way her body held strength even when unconscious, and by the Mark she wore.
She paused briefly to swallow the last piece of cheese and to choose her words. "Yes," she admitted, "I am Nora. More than that I hope."
He silently waited, and she eventually continued. "I was," she searched for an appropriate word, "an orphan. I was outcast. Raised by an outcast. He taught me everything I know. I prepared for the Proving so I could learn about my parentage. The moment I won the Proving, we were attacked by a sun cult. It was a massacre." She wasn't sure how much she should share, or how much she wanted to remember.
"I survived and was anointed a Seeker and tasked to save the people who rejected me. And that's exactly what I did." She decided she didn't need to expound any further.
"A Seeker, huh? Does that mean you're tasked to find... things?"
"Come on Fauks, you know right well what a Seeker is, don't you?" She went straight for it. "You know because you're Nora too. Aren't you?"
"You're right," he confessed. "I knew who you were from the Seeker Mark you wear on your belt. I did grow up Nora, Aloy." He watched the trail pass under his feet as he held the side of the cart, the sound of Billit's servos and foot falls filled a moment of silence.
"My father was a Nora Brave who worked just under the War-Chief. He wanted me to follow his path. I just wanted to build and carve and create, not fight. My mother died of illness one winter, and it completely broke him. He was part of a hunting party this one time, on the edge of the Sacred Lands, and they were spotted by a sawtooth. I was told he dropped his spear and his bow, and he just marched up to it, and he punched it! He punched it, and he fell under it and pulled at its wires like a madman. He pulled out one of its eyes and disabled one of its legs and almost tore off its jaw before it killed him." Fauks stared forward lost in memory. "The Matriarchs pressed me to complete the Proving and I didn't want to. I'm sure I had a lot of misconceptions of what they were trying to teach me, of what they wanted for me. I'm sure they just wanted to distract me from one kind of pain with another, and I shouldn't fault them for that. I wish I had listened at least a little bit. The physicality and the skills the Proving demanded would have made some things easier for me out here. I was just full of grief and hurt and frustration and loneliness. So, the day when the eyes of the tribe turned to the Proving, I turned the opposite way, and I ran. I ran and I ran and I ran. And that, Aloy, is how I ended up out here. I've been here ever since."
Aloy raised her hand and placed it on top of his as he held the cart. She said nothing, and he appreciated both gestures. He was glad they were almost home.
The trees were thick and there were still patches of snow in the shadows that lingered, even this late in the spring. Aloy could see one of the reasons why Fauks would want to make a life for himself out here: it was one of the most beautiful forests she had ever seen.
Billit made a sharp turn and lurched the cart to a stop. And that was when she saw the house. Like the cart pulling machine, it was an amalgamation of parts and pieces that worked together brilliantly. The main support of the house was a metal skeleton of a structure that was long forgotten to time. Cobbled rock masonry made up much of the lower walls, other parts had earth wedged up to the structure, making it look like the ground was swallowing it up. Carefully cut and placed logs finished the outer walls, and the roof, whatever it was made of, was almost fully blanketed in thick soft moss. The exterior alone made this the most comfortable dwelling she had ever come across.
Fauks rushed to open up the door, fiddling with the rudimentary lock. Aloy carefully slid her body to the end of the cart and felt every part of her body tell her this was a bad idea. She tried not to listen. She extended her good foot, reaching for the ground. She collapsed to her knees, realizing her sense of self-sufficiency was far stronger than her body at the moment. Tears welled in her eyes, but she fought back any auditory exclamation of pain.
Without seeing him, Aloy knew Fauks was standing above her. "Arm please." he simply said. She raised her available arm, and instantly his large shoulder was under hers. He hoisted her up, got his arm under her knees, and walked her towards the house. "I'll watch your feet; you watch your head." he said as they got to the doorway.
The home was one very large room. There was a large fireplace in the stone north wall, the kitchen area to the south. The kitchen was busy but pleasant with a stone oven and the wall held shuttered windows that, when opened, could light the entire house. There was a work bench under the stairs that lead up to a spacious loft where, even in the dark, she could see up to his bed. Fauks walked her into the large room; it was cold and dark, and she could tell he rarely ever kept it that way. He gently set her down on a cushioned bench and told her he was going to get fires going and lamps lit.
After the errands were over, he returned to her with a lamp. He pulled up a wooden stool and sat down facing her. "Well," he leaned forward and looked to her green eyes in earnest, "let's get you all cleaned up."
She was surprised how gentle his large strong hands could be. Piece by piece, he dismantled her armor. Purposefully, he untied and removed both her wrist bracers, the pouches at her belt, her beaded necklaces. He placed the bloodstained articles neatly into a pile next to her on the bench. Eventually, she was down to her base tunic and traveling pants and footwear. He excused himself a moment returned with an armful of supplies: two metal boxes, a corked bottle, and a small basin full of water, a soaked cloth hanging over its side. He sat back down on the stool, rested the water container and the bottle on the floor to one side, the boxes to the other. He opened the boxes both and Aloy could see that one held a plethora of healing herbs, the other held bandages and wraps. This man, she knew, was a well prepared one.
Fauks picked out some familiar herbs from the metal box and handed it to her, she recognized it as something to dull the pain. He then handed her the bottle, uncorked it, and advised, "Just a swallow." Just the swallow, Aloy discovered, stung her mouth and burned her throat as she swallowed the medicine. He took back the bottle, and set it down. He then wrung the wet cloth into the basin and leaned into her. He took the cloth and gently started to wipe away at the dried blood on her face. He discovered a cut near her hairline, carefully wiped it clean, and observed. Thankfully, it was closing and had no need for stitches.
"Alright, let's take a look at that shoulder." he informed her. "If you'll excuse me." He took his fingers to the neckline of her tunic and carefully pulled it to the side. He took caution to not disturb to small piece of metal protruding from her pale though bloodied skin. "It's so hard to see what's going on here, there was so much blood. It's not bleeding now, but who knows what will happen when we pull that thing out? This might take a bit of work. Let's look at that ankle really quick before we dive into working on your shoulder." She knew her shoulder looked quite the mess, and removing the arrowhead could be problematic.
Her foot coverings came off easily from her good foot. It felt refreshing, liberating. The foot coverings on her injured foot, however, came off slowly and meticulously. Though he was gentle, every slight movement caused her ankle pain. Eventually, her foot was freed and they could see the damage done. The skin of her ankle was pulled tight from the swelling, purple covered it all. He gently touched a few places to examine it, and each touch caused her to wince in pain and curl her toes. After a moment he pronounced, "Well, I'm no healer, but, good news is, I don't believe it's broken, just a really bad sprain. Unfortunately, you'll not be able to walk on it for quite a while."
She sighed out in some relief; she would take good news on any level. "Now, we really need to address that shoulder of yours. It's quite a mess under that tunic of yours. But don't worry, we'll get you cleaned up and feeling better in no time!" he said, trying his best to be reassuring.
"Fauks, All I want is to feel better right now. There's an arrowhead in my shoulder. I'm soaked in blood, not all of it is mine. And I'm covered in layers of dirt and dried sweat. I am open to anything that will help me feel better!"
The man looked in her eyes, thought a moment, then nodded to himself. "Alright," he said frankly, "it's bath time."
She was clueless to what was going on when he placed the two boxes and the bottle in her lap, or when he disappeared. In a moment he returned from somewhere in the house and placed towels and washrags in her lap as well, and still she wondered. He left again, and soon returned with a fur cloak. He wrapped it around her shoulders with care and used the simple long bone button to latch it together around her neck. Again, simply, "Arm please," and with curiosity, she obeyed.
She felt odd being carried, she'd rather hobble along independent. But she already proved she was too much in pain, too physically drained to be able to walk. Maybe not too wounded though, she was a resilient young woman. She had gone through and come back from so much worse. Fauks was unaware of that, she knew. But she was glad he was focused on healing an injured woman rather than dwelling on the fact he was aiding a person who had just slaughtered twenty-six men. A killer.
The two squeezed out the door and headed around the homespun cottage, up a wooded rise. After a minute or two of silence, curiosity, and marvel for the dark blooming forest, she broke the stillness between them. "So, where are you taking me exactly?" Aloy inquired.
"You'll see in just a minute here." he said as he crossed a small bridge that was just a bit more than a split tree trunk that fell over a trickling creek of snowmelt. "It took a lot more work than I thought I would, but it was all well worth it. I'm quite proud of it!" he radiated.
She turned her head and saw in front of them a cascade of small crescent pools, like metal machine washers stacked then felled over. They terraced up a rise where a well of water steamed out to the canopy of trees. At the bottom of the terraced pools, she saw the bath house.
The small square building was no longer than the great tramplers they had avoided earlier in the day. It sat on a solid rock slab, on the far side it looked as though the crescent pools trickled right under the building. Aloy could feel the warmth radiating from the hot spring feeding the pools, she could even smell it a bit too. The faint scent of sulfur trickled up from the spring like its water did down through the pools. There was a simple latch that held the door closed and Fauks was able to open easily, even while carrying the injured woman.
"Might want to brace yourself a bit, "he warned her and he used his foot to maneuver the door open. Instantly, she felt a wave of steam roll out of the doorway and rush over her skin. It made her eyes water just a bit, and she squinted and blinked away the tears as he shimmied them into the hut. It was dark and tears welled in her eyes so she could not see the room or the bench that he gently placed her down on. She heard him step aside, then a wooden creak, and she was forced to close her eyes as light filled the room. As she blinked away the water and strained to see into the light, she saw Fauks working a wooden pole that thrust open the roof, the shingles on horizontal fins that opened the roof into a large vent. He repeated the process on the other sections of the roof, and the heat and small but acrid sting in her eyes quickly dissipated to more comfortable levels.
On the upstream wall, she sat on a simple log bench, still clinging to the payload he had given to her in the house. To her right was the door, the floor solid rock. On her left she could see that the hut was truly built over some of the crescent pools that slowly trickled down into each other. The wall behind her and in front of her were designed to be just ever so above the pools to allow them to flow. The wall downstream, in front of her looked as though it was on hinges and was capable of opening outward to overlook the mountainside and forest beyond. Right in the middle of the floor was a large deep pit filled with the hot spring water. In the water filled pit, Aloy noticed logs roughly the circumference of her forearms made platforms that stepped down around the walls until she could no longer see down into the steamy teal water. The drilling into the rock sides to place the thin logs into must have been torture for her caretaker.
After opening the roof vents, Fauks crouched in front of her. He lifted from her arm the stack of items she nearly forgot she held. He neatly placed the towels next to her on the bench and the bottle, boxes and washcloths in a row on the floor near the rim of the pool. He stood and unlatched the long bone button from the fur cloak and carefully removed it from her, then placed it on a peg near the door. Then, he crossed his arms in front of himself, grasped the hem of his shirt and peeled it up over his head. He folded it loosely and set it down on the bench that Aloy sat. "Alright," he confessed, "Now, things might get a little weird."
"It's only weird if we make it weird," Aloy said with a smile, trying to sound calm and collected. She grew up in isolation, away from a tribe, ostracized by people. She would have never called herself a "people-person". But she was made Seeker of the Nora by the Matriarch and thrust into a position to work for her people, work alongside many different peoples, work to save many people. Being thrust outside of her comfort zone with people opened her world up and let her realize that she very well could be a people-person; and that realization gave her the freedom and the bravery to accept the help she wasn't able to give herself in this moment. She knew she needed this.
She looked down, trying to be respectful to her host, as he slid off his trousers. He set them on his shirt and kneeled next to her. "Alright, let's see how we can get this tunic off without disturbing that arrowhead," he half said to her, half to himself. He lifted the bottom of her tunic slowly, and she lifted her good arm up over her head, then slid her arm down and out of the sleeve. He helped lift the tunic up over her head, carefully navigating her head and long braided hair through the neck hole. Then, he placed his warm palm gently on her wounded shoulder, thumb and index finger widely straddling the arrowhead. She winced just a bit. With extreme care, he lifted the tunic over the arrowhead and eventually down off her shoulder. The tunic had a hole where she was struck, it was dyed a rusty brown and stiff from all the blood dried into it; and yet, she was surprised to see, he carefully folded it and set it next to his clothes with care.
She untied the leather straps that bound her pants, then, bracing herself with her good foot and pushing herself up from the bench with her good arm on his shoulder, for just the briefest moment, he was able to slide her trousers down to her thighs. Fauks slid the leg of her pants off of her good foot with ease, and then, with a bit of effort and a great deal of care, he was able to work the other pantleg off from around her swollen dark foot. He folded and placed the trousers on the bench, and then, in a moment of silence they stared into each other's dusty dirty faces, quietly figuring out what they both knew was coming next.
"Arm please," he spoke. She wrapped her arm around his neck as he slid his arm around her back, his other arm under her knees. It was clear to her he was being as careful as possible as they rose up. His skin was warm, hers beaded with sweat. She could feel every step of his as he walked to the edge of the pool, and then down onto each wooden bench step, one by one, until the warm spring water immersed her body.
"I'll be as gentle as possible, but I can't guarantee this won't hurt," Fauks told her honestly. She sat on one of the submerged benches that was just deep enough to keep her shoulders out of the water, her feet blissfully floated in the middle of the pool. He sat above her even though he was sitting on a lower step. "Alright, this is the part where you brace yourself."
She gritted her teeth and tightened her body right before she gasped out in pain. He held up the arrowhead he just removed from her shoulder, then tossed it on the rock floor above them. A line of red flowed down her shoulder and into the water where it streamed out and slowly dissipated into nothingness. He put a cloth over the wound and took her opposite hand from the water and placed it on her shoulder. He instructed her to put pressure on it, but she felt ineffectual as the pain shot through her. She heard him rummage through one of the small boxes and turned to see him holding the bottle in one hand, a threaded needle in the other. He had her remove the cloth and poured liquid fire into her wound. She hummed in pain at the burning and at each jab of the needle. Thankfully, it was quickly over. She needed only a few stitches and the pain slowly started to numb away. Fauks then handed her a wetted washcloth to wipe off the evidence of violence left on her body. After he wiped away the dirt and dust from his own face, he took his cloth and helped with the spots she missed on her face. He cleaned the bottom of her foot, and then held her calf as he cleaned the foot of her injured leg. She was grateful for the help, especially when she failed at trying to unbraid her hair with only one hand. After a while of washing, she was clean and couldn't remember a time when she was this clean. She reveled in being freed from the layers of dirt and blood and sweat, the heat of the water, the way it absolved some of the weight of her body, the way it relaxed her muscles and her heavy mind. Even with small scrapes over her body, a sprained ankle and a stitched-up shoulder, it was difficult for her to remember the last time she felt so comfortable. She handed the used washcloth back to Fauks, and he saw her small hand, for the first time, unbloodied.
When she woke up, it was still bright out, though the sun wasn't shooting into the vented roof anymore. Being cleansed and refreshed they decided it was time to return to the house. Fauks carried her out of the steaming pool and rested her back on the bench, giving her a towel and taking one for himself. He slipped on his trousers and went around closing the roof vents. As he gathered the items lying about, she dried her skin and wrapped the towel haphazardly around herself. He gently placed all their belongings into her lap, grabbed the fur cloak, and wrapped it around her, cocooning her body as best he could. Without command, she lifted her arm and was instantly lifted up. They exited the hut, latched it closed and returned to the house. The outside air was brisk and woke her up, but when they entered the house, she could feel the soft warmth from the fire they had left, embers red, just barely burning. He rested her back on the cushioned bench, she quickly started to trust the care he was treating her with. He relieved her of the load she held and disappeared up to the loft. A moment later he returned, "Here's a shirt of mine," he handed it to her, "It will probably be swimming on you. But it's something to wear while I wash those clothes of yours. After she dressed in his shirt, he brought her a plate of cheese, berries, and some dried meat, along with a cup of tea, a flavor she was unfamiliar with. It was all so delicious and she picked and sipped at it, and her gratitude for it was full.
As she nibbled, Fauks excused himself and emptied the cart he traveled so long and so far to retrieve. He unhooked Billit from the cart and lead him to a lean-to on the back of the house to store away. When he returned, he found the plate and tea half finished, and the girl asleep. He scooped her up and carried her up to the loft. He placed her in his bed and covered her in the bedding. He went downstairs, picked at the remains of her plate, then fell asleep himself.
Aloy appreciated the crutch he fashioned for her. It took a couple days of searching in the woods to find a branch the right size, shape, and strength; she was happy to have some semblance of mobility and freedom. She scampered about the house and the nearby forest with more ease and confidence each passing day.
Fauks had joked with her that she was a welcome nuisance. As he worked on a carving, tinkered with machine parts, and even while cooking, Aloy loved to hover around him and pick his brain. Fauks had to come up with ways to explain answers to questions he never put into words or ever thought to ask before. She could tire quickly from hobbling around on her crutch, but she never tired of him telling her that she challenged him, help him to see and think of things in new ways.
They had spent a couple days in the forest hunting for game and early mushrooms and herbs to be dried and stored for the season. After Aloy shared some stories about overriding machines and using them as a mount, Fauks was inspired to fashion a saddle that he could bolt onto Billit's back, and she was able to ride Billit into the forest on their expedition. They spent a night under a large sheltering pine sharing his bedroll for warmth on the still crisp spring night. They had shared the bedroll, a small fire, a light meal, some of their memories, some of their dreams, some of their desires. They both knew she had to leave soon, but on this night they both chose to ignore the near future in favor of the electric moment.
The spring mushrooms and herbs they had picked were stored in bags hanging from one side of Billit, the turkey and a small boar hanging from the other. And on top of Billit sat Aloy in the new saddle. Fauks pulled the cord and the walking machine lurched forward in a steady march. Aloy snacked on bits off cheese as the made their way to the road, Fauks would look up at her and make a joke and she would look down at him and smile as she chewed with an easy poise.
It wasn't yet lunch time before they could spot home down the side of the rise. When they got close Aloy sat up in her saddle and commanded Fauks to stop singing the drinking song he was performing for her amusement. "Fauks! Quiet! NOW!" she burst out. It was too late. Five tramplers stood in the clearing below the house, the closest locked its gaze on them. Without even pulling Billit's cord to stop him, Fauks reached up and pulled Aloy off the machine. "Run, Aloy! RUN! Get to the house and shut the door! I'll buy you time." He drew a hatchet from a bag hanging from Billit's side. She hobbled as fast as she could, sometimes just leaping on one foot, until she eventually made it to the door. Fauks ran in between the woman and the machine, gaining the trampler's attention. He ducked behind a tree as it pushed off to charge him. The trampler rammed the tree rocketing splinters everywhere. Fauks spun to swinging his hatchet into the lens of its eye sensor on its right side, then immediately spun around to the other side of the splintered trunk and reached past its metallic horn a pulled at a network of tubes under its neck. Yellow and black sludge spurted everywhere. Gas erupted from the machine. Fauks sprang up and made a dash to the door of his house. The beast ignited the gas sending a fireball out nearly hitting its target. The blast wave did knock Fauks down on his face, and when he rolled to his back, he heard the bowstring release. VEERRWEEE! A sphere of concussive air burst from the side of the trampler causing an array of parts to fall from the machine's armor. Aloy stood in the yard with her bow in arm, her spear tethered around her back.
As the trampler stomped in a mechanical rage, Fauks ran as fast as he could to Aloy. The metal beast gave a massive stomp that sent the ground rippling violently towards them, throwing sod and rocks into the air. Aloy crouched down and Fauks covered her on his hands and knees, only to be pelted by falling dirt and rocks. A stone fell from the earthen ripple and struck him in the ribs, yet he persisted in sheltering the woman. When the dirt was all fallen, the dust parted to reveal the Mechanical monster standing over them, raising his horn high to crash down upon them. Fauks still held his ground covering Aloy.
Thunk. The massive head of the trampler turned to discover Billit, who had been left to steadily walk forward, had walked right into the backside of the beast. One swift kick of its back leg sent the walking machine flying across the yard in a cloud of parts. Chunks of the simple walker rolled to a stop and sank in the grass. It was the distraction Aloy needed. Just the briefest second had Aloy crawl out from under her faithful cover as she rammed her spear into the trampler's side. A yellow light circled around the staff and the machine suddenly froze. The light twisted into a blue ring and Aloy pulled the spear away. The machine simply turned around and walked away.
"Well... That was kind of the worst." Fauks groaned out as he slid off Aloy and onto his uninjured side. They both slowly got to their knees and watched the overridden trampler walk to the other tramplers across the clearing. Aloy's countermanded machine dropped its horn and rammed into the side of one of the tramplers, sending it rolling. The others turned and attacked the overridden, but it kicked and thrashed at the herd so violently it sent power cells and processing units flying into the surrounding trees. The herd surrounded the overridden, but it lowered its excavation horn and thrashed at the machines in front of it, wildly striking its hind legs at anything behind it. In minutes the overridden had destroyed the four tramplers, and started to limp away. Two of its legs were badly broken, its horn completely snapped off, wires sparking and dragging behind it. Aloy stood to her feet, reached into her quiver and retrieved a red tipped arrow that sparked. She held up the bow, pulled back the string, gritted her teeth at the pain, and released. The flaming arrow struck the trampler in the neck, and quickly flames licked out from what was left of its armor. The trampler staggered and fell over, never to move again.
Aloy ran to Fauks, "Are you alright?" she asked. He just nodded his reply. She knelt down next to him and lifted his shirt. He gave a small wince as he gently swept her small cool hand across his ribs. "Looks like you'll be okay. You'll have a nice bruise there though." He nodded as he slowly climbed to his feet. "I'm so sorry about Billit," she commiserated.
"It's okay," he told her. "The bucket of bolts came through for us," he smiled. "And, if anything, there's more than plenty of trampler parts right over there to rebuild him bigger and better!"
She touched his back for a brief moment, then turned and hobbled into the house. He grabbed his side and dragged his feet slowly following her. Before he got to the door, she emerged with a pack bulging with unknown contents. She walked to his uninjured side, looked up in his eyes and said, "Arm please." He pushed up a corner of his lips and raised up his arm, and instantly she slid under him and became his crutch. He knew where she was leading him and there was no better place to go. They were covered in dirt and sweat; he also was covered in coolant and the hydraulic blood of the trampler.
"So, this is, what? The third time you've save my life?" he joked.
"Remember," she smiled up at him, "it's you who saved my life. I just haven't stopped returning the favor!"
Aloy shut the bath house door behind them and deposited Fauks on the bench. He held his side as he watched her reach up on the tips of her toes to reach the handle to open the vented roof. Once she was done, she took towels out of the bag she packed and placed them on the bench, washcloths on the floor by the steps. She then removed a bottle and the medical boxes and placed them by the edge of the pit.
She knelt beside him and helped lift his shirt over his head. The skin over his ribs started to deepen in color. She helped pull off his boots and trousers causing a small cloud of dust. She, in turn, disrobed and added to the dusty haze. He saw the silhouette of her body in the dust and steam hanging in the air. She slipped her smooth body under his arm and they lifted to their feet. They slowly took each step down into the steamy water, until finally they were soaking freely. Fauks found one of the step benches and pulled himself up onto it, making himself as comfortable as possible. He cupped the warmwater in his hands and splashed it onto his face hoping it removed a large amount of the machine fluid from his face. Aloy stepped up on a bench and swung her leg over his lap, and sat on his knees. She leaned in close to him. He could smell her hair, her sweat, her skin. She reached over his shoulder and grabbed the washcloths, wet them, and dabbed at his face. He smiled up at her, and after a moment, wrapped his arms around her and drew her in.
They knew she had to leave. There were more peoples to save, mysteries to solve, more evils to be fought. After a few more days the time came for her to depart. Fauks had made her a traveling bag and filled it with herbs and balm for her much-improved shoulder and ankle, dried meats and berries, and even a small charm of a trampler he had carved from the shattered tree.
They stood in the yard as they embraced long and hard. "Thank you for everything Fauks," she whispered and completely meant. He expressed his gratitude as well, and then he took one of her hands and placed a large leather pouch in her palm. She untied the drawstring and looked inside. Her smile beamed on him as she clutched the bag to her chest in excitement. "Cheese!" she exclaimed. He just smiled and nodded. She started to walk backwards, forcing herself to start her journey, yet not wanting to turn away from him.
"Will I ever see you again?" he called.
"Of course!" she replied. "Every time I'm up this way I'll come and see you. I have to!" Her little hands clutched the pouch. "I'll have to come and see you when I'm in the need of some of your cheese!" She coyly grinned over at him. "Or the next time I need a bath."
The End