It pained Rost to see his little girl suffering. Aloy had been restless for days since the incident with the Nora boy. She tossed and turned in her sleep, despite a warm fire on the hearth of their cozy cabin in the woods, and was always tired in the morning. Her inquisitive and enthusiastic nature had been quashed into taciturn withdrawal. He had struggled at first as an outcast, unable to speak with his friends, his mentors, the Matriarchs. It was not an easy life, but he had known it was coming. Aloy was just a child. She didn't even know what it was like to have friends. Rost was the only person she had ever known.

He didn't know what to say to comfort her. He gave her an extra piece of rabbit for dinner, an extra compliment when she ground the correct herbs together into a healing draught. She looked at him in vacant recognition, noticing his efforts, but unable to rise from the weight of her misery. She remained an obedient follower of his teachings, but the spark in her little body was gone.

Despite her feelings, he continued taking her on occasional patrols throughout the Embrace, to watch for dangerous machines and dispatch any that threatened Nora life. One day as they were patrolling outside the largest Nora settlement, Mother's Heart, they came across a woman and her daughter washing clothes and bedsheets in a stream. The women were aware of two scrappers pacing at the far side of the valley, glancing up occasionally to keep an eye on them across the stream, but didn't see the watcher approaching from behind.

Rost and Aloy were hidden in some tall grass nearby. Aloy watched as Rost drew his bow and aimed for the watcher's huge lens as it approached the oblivious women. He exhaled slowly, and released the nocked arrow the moment his lungs were empty and his body was very still. The arrow pierced the watcher's lens and drove through the main processor in its head; the small machine collapsed in a heap of metal as the women stood and turned in alarm. They looked around frantically, but didn't spot Rost or Aloy where they remained hidden in the grass. The mother quickly collected their laundry and hurried them away.

When they had gone, he turned to Aloy.

"Time to practice your salvaging skills," he said. "Go and collect its heart."

She obediently started towards the machine, leaning back against the steep hill as she let gravity do the work for her. She had almost reached the downed machine when a rock hit her in the face. She cried out, holding her face in her hands as a thin trickle of blood began to flow. She looked up in anger. A young blonde boy's satisfied expression glared down at her from the hillside.

"Stay away, no-mother!" he yelled.

He threw another rock, but she was prepared this time, quick enough to catch it in one hand.

The boy frowned, then leaned down to pick up a third rock, despite the protestations of a dark-skinned girl who appeared beside him.

Aloy knew she had to act fast. She could simply dodge the next rock, hurl one straight at his head, or knock the one he held out of his hand.

Her pride would not allow her to do nothing. Dodging the next rock would not be enough; yet if she sought revenge, she would be no better than he was. Hatred was not the way. Holding the rock she caught, she aimed quickly and threw. It flew true to her aim, hitting the blonde boy in the hand. He dropped the rock he was holding and shook his hand out angrily. The girl beside him laughed, and grinned at Aloy. Her eyes conveyed approval, but it did not distract Aloy from her enflamed emotions.

They turned to leave.

As Aloy watched them go, she tried to focus on the pain of her fingernails as they pressed into her palms, but any attempt at distraction was useless. This boy was so spiteful that he had broken tribal law to deliver his declaration of hostility. All Nora were forbidden to speak to her. Why? She had been outcast as an infant, before she was even truly aware of herself and her surroundings, before her mind had developed enough for her to be able to take conscious action within the world.

Shunning an adult was still cruel, but Aloy could understand it - to a degree - since it was a punishment for something a person had willfully done. Rost's story was still a mystery... but to banish a baby to the wilds? It was unthinkable, yet the Nora had done it to her. Rost simply said the Nora Matriarchs brought her to him as an infant, and claimed to know nothing more. She had carried a kind of resigned resentment with her for a long time, burying it when it became clear there were no easy answers - but the roots of uncertainty, oppression, and bitter anguish had become an invasive vine, choking the sunlight from every branching thought. Tears ran like watery tree sap from her eyes.

A familiar hand graced her shoulder. She turned to face Rost.

He had seen everything.

"You're bleeding! Let me have a look."

She pushed his hand away in anger.

"Here, hold still. I'll get it," he told her. His voice was gentle. He was only trying to help. When he reached out again, she held still.

She stared at the ground, seething, trying to catch her breath and sort her reeling thoughts as Rost tended to her minor wound.

"Why?" she asked in a hurt voice, raising her green eyes to look at him directly. "Why am I an outcast?"

"Aloy, this is not the time."

"Who was my mother?"

"Aloy... I've told you before. That is not for us to know. You were just a newborn when the Matriarchs brought you to me. "

"So the Matriarchs - they know?"

Rost grunted in frustration. "It's not so simple! We are outcasts." Matriarch Teersa had made an exception at the naming ceremony when Aloy was still an infant. She had appeared and spoken to Rost, despite the Nora taboo, and blessed the naming ceremony as Rost held the child aloft on the precipice and declared her name to All-Mother. There would be no further exceptions. Not for him, anyway. His path had been set; he was lucky to live in the Sacred Lands as an outcast and could expect nothing more.

Aloy was not satisfied. "So how do I make them tell me?"

"The Matriarchs? There is a way, perhaps." He considered, starting to pace back and forth, brow furrowed. Did he want to set her on this path? She should not live her entire life as an outcast, and the tribe needed all the braves it could get. Mankind was stronger when they stood together. The machines were not going away anytime soon.

"So tell me!" Aloy insisted, impatient.

Rost's eyebrows lifted into an expression of cautionary wisdom. "It would be dangerous. It would take years of training." She had done well with every task he had given her, often exceeding expectations - but he wanted her to realize that her new goal would take an extended commitment. He wasn't sure she was ready for it; she was still so young!

Her young voice was desperate, then miserable, as she replied. "How?! I don't care!"

Rost stopped pacing and looked at her, hesitating.

"How do I do it? Tell me!" she demanded.

"The Proving -" Rost burst. "The tribe's rite of passage, held every year. Those who pass become Braves, and the Matriarchs grant a boon to the winner."

"A boon?"

"Yes. Whatever the winner wants."

"Then I'll do it," she said.

Rost chuckled. Words came easy. Action, discipline, and commitment would require so much more.

"Whatever it takes," Aloy promised, assuring him. "I'll win the Proving." Despite her youth, there was a mature glimmer of resolve in her face. She had been downtrodden for so long now that it warmed his heart to see her renewed vigor. He wished he had more answers for her, and knew that it must be difficult growing up with the stigma of an outcast and no reason for it. Now that she knew it was possible to find answers, her mind was made up. She had a mission. A purpose. Something to fight for. Something told Rost that his adopted daughter was special - and it was not just familial pride. Her will was a force to be reckoned with.

"I see," Rost said with a resigned sigh. "We'd best get started, then. Your training will be hard. It will take years."

"Yes! Please!" she said eagerly. "Where you go, I will follow."