A.N. This Chainscrape stop was added very last minute—and changed everything—one reason why an update took so long. I wrote this chapter from scratch (-_-) , and I can't believe it's almost 6000 words. (I just can't stop adding stuff, I'm sorry. lol. ) Also, I tried to be respectful to both ships. I only wrote this because I replayed the game and really wanted to add Petra…but then I realized that Petra and Tilda might not get along when Aloy is involved. Here's the result. Happy reading :)

Chapter 5

"You'll have me."

Tilda tried not to smile too much. What Aloy said was likely a slip of the tongue.

On foot, they trekked down the rocky, snow-dusted path from the base's entrance in silence.

"Stay here."

The land flattened and Aloy diverted off the path. Through red-tipped tall grass she waded towards blue lights and machine noise, enabling the override on her spear. She crouched low, stalking her targets with silent steps, unwavering in her footing even as a gust swept over her; her eyes transfixed on a herd of horse-like machines with curled horns on their heads. She stopped, waited, and watched, studying their movements—then launched.

Tilda jolted at the loud clash of metal to metal. Aloy struck quick and confident with unyielding ferocity and the ground rumbled beneath her feet as machines scurried and stomped. Some chose to fight, and some rushed away.

In the blur of a small stampede, Aloy overrode two chargers, narrowly dodging kicks and headbutts. Her smile wide in the certainty of her victory, life blazing in her eyes.

Elisabet was rebirthed as a warrior who thrived on danger, and it was beautiful. Who knew the facets of her personality were vast and enthralling to witness. They spurred a renewed fire within her.

Atop a charger, she followed Aloy as they descended the mountain, passing a makeshift fortress fenced with jagged spikes haphazardly stuck into the ground; the wood shanties on the inside splattered with green and red paint, tattered flags of the same colors fluttering in the wind. From inside the camp smoke billowed into the air; its inhabitants hidden from view, but their yells of debauchery heard.

Aloy rode by without a glance, focusing only on the road ahead, her hair rustling wildly in the wind; the gentle red shining ever-bright in the sun. Lis's hair so long and free, Tilda couldn't help but stare enraptured at the sight as Aloy hugged herself close to the galloping machine like a jockey, handling its trampling steps with ease.

Her hands around that waist again—Ha! She could only wish.

'If you knew what we were...'

"You should rest—"

"I'm fine."

They rode far into the night, blazing past scatterings of blue light. It didn't matter that the moon barely lit their path, Aloy pushed the charger at full speed for miles. She had Elisabet's insatiable drive, and nothing stopped that.

'The faster we get there, the sooner I'll be rid of her.' That's likely the thought that fueled Aloy's motivation to storm across the arid terrain.

They only took breaks when necessary, and the chargers shredded into the ground to refuel.

"Do Zeniths sleep?"

"Just because we have certain advantages, doesn't mean we're not still human."

"Really? I wasn't sure, figured with all your fancy upgrades you'd find a way to stay awake forever too."

Tilda smiled at Aloy's sarcasm. She could only do so much when each conversation ended with a snarky remark. Aloy kept her distance when they stopped, and hardly looked her in the eye. Aloy was Elisabet, in body and spirit, but also an Elisabet that didn't know who she was. That was okay.

A new chance, a blank canvas.

The warmth of the west evaporated the further east they rode, and the hide against her skin, though somewhat scratchy, retained heat better than she expected.

After hours racing at its peak, Aloy's charger trudged the rest of the way, surviving on its last reserve canister of BioFuel.

The huntress rubbed her eyes and stifled her yawns, but she could only refuse nature's course for so long. She wasn't invincible, wasn't immortal. She needed rest.

Longevity treatments optimized the body's core functions. Zeniths could eat less, sleep less, and still have the upper hand. She could easily outlast Aloy, but sleep was still a welcome recourse.

Moonlight glazed Aloy's slouched profile, reflecting softly from the machine's metal.

The honorable warrior returning home. A painting based on a popular book from the Japanese Edo period, "Long Way Home" by Ryoko Ishimura, depicted a similar sight, of a samurai returning to his village after a long, bloody battle. The cream color plains of the battlefield were painted red at his horse's feet, as he waded through a sea of fallen; his armor scratched and pierced with near misses; himself made Ronin, a lone wanderer without a master.

Gentle and forgiving, the moon's tempered glow embraced Aloy as it did the samurai. It was hard to look away from the powerful reminder that even strength needed rest.

At a hill's peak, Aloy's charger slowed to a stop and hers beside it.

"We'll stop there for the night." Aloy gestured to a scattering of orange glows in the distance with a nod.

Tilda wasn't sure what "there" was, but the conviction in Aloy's voice eased her uncertainty. Aloy knew best. After all this world was hers, and where Aloy went she'd follow.

They started forward, her charger matching the other's every step, those orange glows the guide in their path. Their luminescence faint and modest against the great night, but enough. No blasting city lights shocked this sky.

This Earth was empty but peaceful without their noisy, rapidly growing cities driving wildlife to extinction, their lights bleaching the night sky, and their corrupt companies maddening minds with non-stop advertisements. Without them. Without their chaos. Just as Elisabet wanted.

It was never Lis's personality that made her cold. It was her loathing for their society's destruction of their world. But her love of life stirred to challenge the majority, who finally listened when death knocked on their door.

This new Earth survived through her vision; a footprint of her life's work manifesting in every corner. She repurposed the technology used to destroy, enabling it to rebuild and recreate.

Amid hell on Earth, Zero Dawn stood as a final love letter, as much as it was a saving grace. Aloy followed in her footsteps, but her fate would not be the same.

'Aloy. The shoes you fill are great. But you're not alone. Not this time.'

They crossed an old stone bridge, water sparkling as it rushed beneath them. On the other side, nestled at the base of a cliff, the settlement comfortably sat, secured by a perimeter of tightly bound vertical logs. A thick wooden gate welcomed them and behind its doors a faint ebb of metal hammering to metal. The closer they drew the more Aloy slouched in her seat.

They stopped just outside the gate and one of the two guards keeping watch smiled.

"Welcome back Savior."

Aloy slumped off the charger and Tilda followed, able to feel her legs for the first time in hours. "May we enter?"

"Of course. Chainscrape always welcomes you."

Aloy gave a tired nod and the gate opened with a loud clang of the lock as it disengaged.

Inside, a humble sight, the settlement peaceful but medieval, little more than a makeshift tent city built atop brick ruins; the dirt paths lit by fire braziers placed throughout. Only a couple handfuls of settlers wandered about their business, dressed in baggy, loose clothing under armored leather fittings, each styled different and unique.

Aloy lead the way at an easy pace. At their feet, remnants of cobbled paths still visible, likely a couple hundred years old. A thousand years was a long time. Long enough for civilizations to fall and be rebuilt by successors, the successors that those Aloy's age called ancestors.

Of the few settlers that wandered about, each who passed Aloy acknowledged her in some way, with a nod, a smile, or a greeting ending with the moniker "Savior". Aloy gave a smaller nod in return but kept quiet.

"I know someone here. She'll find us a place." Aloy said as Tilda glanced over their surroundings.

To their left, a towering structure, its circular metal roof shining in the moonlight. Compared to the rest of the structures, this gathering place was the grandest; the architecture fittingly mimicking the design of a barrel used for aging ale. Posted above each entry way, a machine head displayed for all to see. Drunkards stumbled out and Aloy walked past them, not bothered a bit by their sloppy meandering.

"Hey…Reggie…"

A man with a half-lidded gaze and a deep sway to his stance clunked their way with heavy steps. At the deep slur elongating his words, Aloy glanced over but continued forward.

"Reggie…how's it goin'?"

The man stumbled their way, intercepted their path, and ran into Aloy head on. She grabbed him with one hand and held him back, her other hand suspended in mid-air where she reached for her spear.

Tilda froze, her hand lifted just below her waist. An energy blast would've melted him, but without the suit, she couldn't generate the power to fend off Aloy's attacker. The suit translated thoughts and amplified emotions, harnessing life's unexplainable force then transforming it into energy. That rush she felt as the man latched onto Aloy, in the suit it could've been enough to set him ablaze.

An alternative burned a hole in her pocket…but, it wasn't the right time to take that risk.

The warrior softened from Aloy's worn gaze and Aloy cracked a tense smile that eased the moment as she turned her face away from the noxious scent on his breath.

"Turner, over here!"

Aloy looked over her shoulder to a man waving at them from the opposite side of the path. "You Reggie?" Aloy asked and got behind the drunk man, her hands on his back, gently guiding him to the younger man.

"Sorry about that. My brother doesn't know when to stop." The young man said with an apologetic smile.

"…at least he's in the right place now."

"Thanks."

"Aloy!" A woman's voice called across the night air and Aloy turned quick without hesitance. "Over here!"

A woman surrounded by an entourage called Aloy by name. In her hand a sledgehammer, and over her clothes a leather apron; a shield maiden's shield the only thing missing. Tall and thick, she certainly had the stature of a powerful Viking. Her followers scattered, meandering their separate ways as Aloy approached. For someone so tired, Aloy's bright smile touched her eyes. The woman sized Aloy with a gaze too interested, her brown eyes shining with familiarity and a similar longing Tilda knew well.

"A woman in every city, huh?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Aloy said, barely turning over her shoulder.

"Nothing. You just seem well-liked everywhere we stop."

"Because I help people."

The young woman glanced past Aloy and at Tilda with a question in her eyes, but she looked away. Her attention only wanted Aloy, and Aloy didn't hesitate.

Tilda huffed an inward scoff as they met the woman at a point overlooking the rest of the settlement; the narrow, winding paths leading down, clearly visible from the perch. Fanned out at their feet, the tops of tents and patterned tapestries along the paths, that likely provided a great deal of refuge from the sun during the day. Amongst those, wooden dwellings whose structure mimicked the main gathering place on a smaller scale, each with a circular metal roof of the same copper color, bits of smoke rising from the rod-like chimney stuck down the middle.

"Petra—"

The woman yanked Aloy into a hug; Aloy on the tips of her toes, squished into the woman's chest, blindsided but hugging back with a lifted arm. "I can see that hair from a mile away." The woman let go and Aloy looked down, taking a step back, her cheeks redder than before.

"I don't think that's a good thing," Aloy said with a bashful smile, her gaze to the ground, and her hand at her neck. That little nervous gesture, rubbing her neck to abate her unease, Elisabet did it too. She did it when the staff sang Happy Birthday to her. She did it with an arm crossed and a subtle tilt of her head when she stood in front of a painting she tried to understand. She did it the first night she visited the mansion and stayed. She did it when she wanted something but didn't know where to start or what to say.

Silence dragged on and the air around the two thickened. A secret between them, something left unresolved. The woman watched Aloy fidget with a knowing smile, one a little smug. "Good to see you, Red." She marked her territory, calling Aloy that nickname with a sultry tone that made Tilda's teeth clench behind her lips.

Aloy cleared her throat. "How's being the new leader of Chainscrape?"

The pair walked slowly, herself the third wheel behind them as they headed down and deeper into the settlement.

"There's a lot of stupid shit that goes on but nothing I can't handle."

"And…this?" Aloy said, pointing to the woman's Jack-the-Ripper attire. "Did we interrupt something?"

"No, just finished at the forge. Haven't had a moment to change."

A pause weighed the air as Aloy looked in the direction opposite the woman's gaze, to the sleepy dwellings winding down for the night.

"Been wondering if you'd come back." The woman pulled Aloy to a stop with a hand on Aloy's shoulder. "I missed seeing you."

The pair locked eyes and Tilda looked away.

"Who's this?" The woman glanced to her.

"She's with me. We're together—t-traveling together." Aloy averted her gaze. "Just traveling..."

"So I still have a shot then."

Aloy looked over with a crease in her brow. "A shot at what?"

Tilda rolled her eyes and looked down. Aloy couldn't have missed that one, not after the slew of unsubtleties.

Elisabet was never that oblivious—actually…that was wrong. She tended to overlook nuances when her mind was focused elsewhere. It happened a lot while she was working on Zero Dawn.

"You're beautiful."

Elisabet would answer her lovestruck compliments with a "What?", before it dawned on her, and she looked away with that uneasy smile. "Oh."

Their lunches, even romantic dinners, more often turned into brainstorming sessions. Even in her arms, Elisabet murmured about Zero Dawn, tired but still thinking.

A mid-afternoon nap in Elisabet's office became commonplace, if it meant Elisabet had more energy and brain capacity at the end of the day to focus on them, just them.

"Don't let me oversleep." Elisabet would demand and on the couch in the office Elisabet laid in her arms as Gaia kept time, the automatic windows darkened for their privacy. The hour ticked by, slowed to a crawl as she stroked Elisabet's hair with a ginger touch.

The woman's hand slipped down Aloy's arm with a squeeze that ripped Tilda from her nostalgic musings. "What do you need?"

"Somewhere to stay for the night."

"Sure. Easy. I'll get you a couple ro—"

"One is fine."

Their gazes flicked to Aloy; the other woman's eyes a little wide as the oh-so-charming smile on her face faded at Aloy's response.

"We're leaving first thing in the morning. Don't need to take up too much space."

"Sure you won't stick around for a day? You still owe me for last time."

"I really can't."

The woman glanced down, a somber smile tugging at her lips. "…okay, Red. Your wish is my command. But…you at least owe me a drink and one hell of a story."

Aloy smiled.

Apparently, this wooden shack was one of their "best accommodations".

"Here we are." The woman opened the door—if four slats of wood stuck on a frame with rickety bolts could be called a door.

Tilda stepped into the small, circular room first. At the back, a cast-iron furnace taken right from America's Wild West Era, added to the room's rustic charm. The dusty wood floor carpeted with an ornate but faded rug. And like something out of a genie's lamp—or barrel, in this case—colorful pillows created seating arrangements on the floor.

Don't judge the inside by the outside. The saying held true. The place was quaint, in a dilapidated cottage kind of way.

"You." Outside the door the woman caught Aloy's arm, the smirk on her face wanting much more than a drink. "Come find me in the brewery."

"I will."

The woman left them, and Tilda relaxed. She could breathe. Aloy was hers again. Though, how Aloy reciprocated her gaze was concerning. Aloy stepped in, closing the door with a downward gaze and a flattered smile.

"I take it you and her have history…"

Aloy looked up, her brow furrowing as she quickly frowned. "That's none of your business." Aloy turned her back to Tilda and set her gear on the workbench at the wall; her hard, defensive tone easily confirming Tilda's fears.

"So what was it? A one-time thing? Something more?"

Aloy scoffed under her breath and faced her but didn't look into her eyes, instead surveying their shared space. "I'll take the right side."

Dividing the room. Sad, but Tilda expected as much.

"I'm going to see what she wants. Don't wait for me." Aloy walked to the door and opened it.

"She wants you."

Aloy stopped and turned to her with a smirk. Aloy saw right through her, challenging her with a look that said, "Try me". "Then...her wish is my command," Aloy said with a shrug before she left.

Tilda clenched her jaw and she frowned, a deep crease in her brow. Anyone else's hands on Elisabet, she never could stand to see it. Ted Faro. He touched Elisabet in her presence just to piss her off…and it worked, every time.

But Aloy wouldn't sleep with this woman, not when their journey took precedence…right?

What happened with Petra, it wasn't any of Tilda's business, but how she reacted probably answered Tilda's suspicion.

Aloy sighed.

Her words blurted out in her defense and cut the air between them, silencing the Zenith; Tilda's mouth set in a line, her ominous gaze like a vice, squeezing tighter the longer it bored into her. The hint of fear in Tilda's eyes amused her in the moment. Now Aloy knew what made her tick.

On the road Aloy kept mostly quiet. Their conversations steamed from the seams with every word, stirring like a bellowback about to erupt. The more she said, the more her words got tied into Tilda's fantasy. Tilda would always want something from her she couldn't give.

Aloy headed up the slope to the brewery, a soft breeze cooling her skin. Away from Tilda she could breathe and forget about the Old World for a while.

The last night in Chainscrape before she went west…it almost changed everything. It could've, if she accepted Petra's advance. But, even if she wanted it, it didn't matter. She couldn't drag Petra into this mess. She wouldn't forgive herself if anything happened to her. It was hard enough to watch her friends rush into battle at her side, especially after Varl. Keeping distance with Petra was best. It just wasn't the right moment.

But a simple conversation, she could do that. That wasn't leading someone on, was it?

A thick wall of heat consumed her as she entered the brewery, following the roundabout path to the bar tucked away in a room towards the back, Petra's favorite spot.

The typical boisterous clash of voices during the day softened to an easy going chatter. A few clangs of mugs and slurred conversations livened the air, but no ale splashed about from heated, drunken confrontations, and no angered patrons jumped out of their seats to fight the person across from them. This was a tired crowd, workers getting in a last conversation or drink before the rush of the next day started.

"Does it have to feel like a forge?" Aloy said under her breath and tugged at her collar, her leather armor sticking to her skin; Milduf's big stove at the center of the brewery keeping the place stuffy and hot.

Nothing was worse than insufferable heat boxing her in from all sides, squeezing and thickening the air. Hidden Ember was unbearable with the scorching sun beating down. She'd take the Banuk frozen wilds over that heat any day. The Nora weren't as well adjusted to the cold as Banuk, but still preferred it, and after traversing the deserts of the west she understood why. Sweating sucked.

She found the room and as soon as she stepped in Petra saw her; Petra in her normal attire for the evening, but the image of the master forger in her heavy forgewear, sharpening the lance on a spinning whetstone would be forever ingrained in Aloy's mind.

"Over here!" Petra patted the seat next to her. All the other seats were equidistant apart, but the one next to Petra was pulled slightly closer to her. Aloy hesitated a second but inwardly sighed and continued to the bar with a knowing smile.

Aloy sat, their shoulders brushing.

"Hey!" Petra yelled to catch the bartender's attention. "Give her something to drink."

"Oh, I really shouldn't—"

A mug slammed to the space in front of Aloy; the counter shaking from the force as a little ale splashed out.

"You look like you could use it." Petra settled beside her and Aloy leaned onto the counter, looking into the mug with a slight hunch.

Petra was right. She could use it.

Varl's death, Gaia's tedious missions, and the constant reverence from people that thought she was an infallible god who had the solutions to all their problems, it drained her. The special names got old after awhile, and with them came more responsibility than she could've imagined.

'Is this how Elisabet felt when they called her the last hope for humanity?'

Aloy sighed. After everything, what was the harm in a couple drinks? She grabbed the mug and took a long drink; the liquid sweet and sour on her tongue as it stung but refreshed at the same time.

"There you go, loosen up a little." Petra slapped a hand on her back and Aloy coughed once into the mug, clearing her throat as ale burned the inside of her nose.

"Whoa, hold up there. Wait for me." Petra drank alongside her.

Aloy finished the mug and set it down with a hearty exhale. There, a drink down and she felt good, very good.

Aloy politely pushed her mug to the bartender who took it with a smile. "Why is he smiling at me?" She looked over, Petra sitting with a similar proud smile.

"Because we're about to find out if the Nora can hold a good brew." She said, the bartender handing back a refilled mug.

"Well...I'm not really Nora. Sorry to disappoint."

"Then what are you?"

"I'm a...free spirit...like you." Aloy felt her crooked smile and Petra's eyes shined brighter, gazed deeper at her words. Petra grinned, a radiance to her charming smile that her own couldn't match. Her lips were the perfect shape and her eyes showed a spark that tempted Aloy's will.

They could be something, if she just let it happen.

A home to come back to. A person that loved her, wanted her, waiting. Someone that wasn't afraid to give her space but would take care of her when it mattered. The idea sounded nice, and Chainscrape wasn't a bad place to settle.

Cool air touched her tongue and Aloy closed her mouth and looked away, rubbing the clamminess from her palms to her pants.

She couldn't. Her origin. She wouldn't be able to keep that from a partner forever. Ancestor reborn, just that title alone would stir questions.

'I like you and by the way I'm the clone of an ancestor from a thousand years ago…'

That was a conversation she loathed. The less people who knew, the better. The only thing that followed that conversation was problems and heartbreak.

"Nice to see you remember what I said." Petra tossed an arm around her shoulders and Aloy swayed slightly, the countertop blurring for a second. "Us free spirits gotta stick together."

"Right." Aloy said soft and downtrodden.

In the corner of her eye Petra leaned onto the table, her cleavage nearly spilling out of her low-cut shirt. Aloy glanced in the opposite direction with a clench in her jaw. That would've been an embarrassing time and place to be caught staring.

"So, what's the story on that woman traveling with you?"

Aloy chuckled wryly without knowing why. There wasn't anything funny about traveling with Tilda…unless she laughed at the irony. Only then, she couldn't stop there, she'd have to laugh at everything else, even the irony of her very existence. She took a drink, the mug's bottom hitting the counter harder than she intended, her hand feeling heavier than normal.

"She infuriates me." Aloy said, her tongue a little numb, and the end of each word softened with a gentle slur. Tilda was the last thing she wanted to talk about, and she scoffed. "If I'm supposed to love this woman, I don't see it."

Petra let her go and looked away. "So you are together—"

"No."

"Then…"

"It's complicated," Aloy said and sighed. "I don't want to get into it."

Silence lingered between them.

"…that's a funny arrangement you two have."

"It's temporary." Aloy took a swig and set her elbows on the counter. She put her head in her hands, when they couldn't hold the weight she caved, folding her arms on the countertop and resting her forehead atop them. "When does it end..."

"When does what end?" Petra's voice softened.

"All of it."

Another beat of silence passed between them and Petra touched Aloy's shoulder tenderly. She pulled back the long locks of hair from over Aloy's shoulder. "Tell me a story, Red." The knuckles of Petra's hand brushed her neck and Aloy stiffened at the flush of heat rushing down her back. She sat up before the sensation happened again, and Petra eased away.

Aloy shifted in her seat, her thoughts a whirling blur as she stifled the need to feel that caress again.

A story, right. Petra probably wanted to hear something riveting. So she gave her just that, a thrilling story about battling a winged beast in the far west's Valley of Death, a wasteland of rotted old world machines, where Hephaestus's new ones stalked among the corpses with red eyes, corrupted by Regalla's Rebels, and picking off anyone who dared to venture through.

"Sounds dangerous out there…"

Petra's voice lowered with concern. It was uncharacteristic of her but Aloy nodded along with it.

"But if anyone can face it, it's you."

Petra squeezed her shoulder.

Sure, she could. How many times had she come close to death and survived? Though, most of her success had to be luck. All-Mother wasn't ready to let her go yet.

Her mind hazed and she lost count of how many refills she had after the second.

Halfway through a mug they relocated to a booth in corner of the room, her legs weary and her feet irons weighing them down. Petra's arm around her, pulling her to the destination, helped tremendously.

A strong, loyal confidant, whose sense of humor made her smile. A moment of rest, away from Nemesis, and from anything to do with Elisabet and her legacy. A moment where Aloy was the only one who existed. It felt good. She embraced the time and enjoyed herself while she could.

Sitting on the same side of the booth, her back resting against Petra's profile, Aloy chuckled at Petra's animated stories of her forge.

Her eyes fought weariness for hours, but she managed to keep them open, idly watching the patrons around them, their movements chased by ghost tail blurs of color.

"I better go." Aloy inched out of the booth, her intention sluggish but working, a hand at her back helping her move forward.

"I had the same idea."

Aloy stood first and swayed, her dizzied brain struggling to catch up with her body. "Whoa." She lifted a hand to her head.

"Got you, Red."

Petra caught her and put an arm around her shoulders as they walked out of the brewery.

"What's in that stuff?"

Petra smirked. "Only the best brew around. Keeps Chainscrape happy."

Outside the villagers walked around bundled in coats. But, why, when the air was so warm?

"This way Aloy." Petra pulled her to the left but she planted her feet. The cabin was right. She remembered that.

"It's this way, right?"

"Or...you can stay with me tonight." Petra looked at her. "We can just talk…like old times."

But that defeated the purpose of the cabin. Why would she—

"She wants you."

Tilda's words burned a small hole through the haze, and she remembered the kiss that almost went too far the last time she visited Free Heap. They were talking then too, until one thing led to another. She'd be lying if she said the kiss wasn't the reason she purposely avoided visits to the settlement thereafter.

"Oh—uh—" Aloy cleared her throat and wedged out of Petra's grasp, stumbling backward a few steps. "I-I got it from here. No need to worry." She cracked a crooked smile and backtracked in the direction of the cabin. "Have a good night." She pointed a finger and gave a nervous grin, trying her best to mask the waver of her stance with some confidence.

"See you tomorrow," Petra said softly and looked down with a friendly smile.

They both turned away from each other, Aloy slumping with a sigh. Petra was great, beautiful, and had a smile that made her blush, but she couldn't focus on that right now. There wasn't time for love. It would just end up being a distraction to complicate everything in its wake. She'd ruin it all and their friendship if she acted on her feelings when she couldn't maintain a relationship. After Nemesis, maybe.

'…one foot in front of the other Aloy. Easy.'

She eyed the dirt path and followed the light emanating from the braziers, struggling down a decline to the path below. The path narrowed and tightened around her the further in she walked, dwellings sitting just past her shoulders as the cabin came into view. She all but staggered to it, her arm out to stabilize herself on anything she could. 'I think that's it; I hope that's it.'

She stepped on the outer edge of her foot and stumbled into a woman passing.

"Hey, watch it—"

"Sorry—"

"Wait, you're the—"

"Savior of Meridian. Yup…that's me." Aloy slipped away without a glance back, only focused on the cabin.

"You need help?" The woman called to her.

"No…I got it. Thanks."

Aloy grimaced at her lack of control, her footing never so bad.

'Definitely couldn't hunt shit right now.'

Her legs barely felt like hers, lacking their fortitude as her muscles twitched with each step. She held onto the image of the cabin in the sharpest point of her blurry, tunneling vision.

At the cabin's door she pushed and pulled, jiggling the metal handle, but the door didn't budge. Her forehead touched the wood and her weight leaned into the door. 'I don't have time for this. Maybe if I ram it. Yeah...that'll work.' Aloy pushed off the door and lined up her shoulder with it—well, she didn't line up anything, just made a sloppy guesstimate and charged into it.

The door shook but didn't open.

'Gotta hit it harder.' She staggered back and squared her shoulder with the door again and charged. The door opened and her momentum knocked into the person on the other side, them both crashing to the floor.

Everything spun, her brain jostled in her head, and her hand squished into something soft.

Eyes squeezed shut, she shook off the lightheaded daze, tried to, then pushed herself up slowly.

She looked up, her gaze drifting lazily. Ebbing in darkness, a golden blur lit the room and a crackling pop sounded from its source as the air warmed her skin. 'It felt better outside.'

"Aloy?"

From below Tilda called her name.

"What are you doing?" Tilda shifted beneath her and propped herself on an elbow. "Wait..." Tilda said with disdain and grabbed Aloy's jaw, pulling her gaze down as she came close to her face with a sniff. She grimaced. "She got you drunk..." Tilda scoffed and let go. "…figures." Tilda stood and Aloy flopped onto her back. She didn't have much strength left to hold herself up anyway.

"I drank on my own." Aloy stuck a finger in her chest and said, closing her eyes to abate Tilda's shifting image before her.

"No. She played the oldest card in the book. Wanted to soften you up."

"No one softens me up."

With a raise of her brow, Tilda smiled a little. The huntress in such a loosened state was a sight to witness. Elisabet drank when she didn't want to think—rare occasions. A couple drinks subdued her seriousness, but a few more, and her demons slipped through the cracks. If she wasn't happy, Elisabet was an irritable drunk.

"How much did you drink?"

"What kind of question is that? I wasn't counting."

Tilda reached down and grabbed Aloy around the waist, pulling up to get Aloy to her feet, but Aloy rolled onto her stomach and wedged out of her grasp.

"I got it." On her knees, Aloy crawled to a dark corner of the room, collapsing on her side with a *thud*.

Tilda picked up a pillow and handed it to Aloy. "Here."

"…just drop it."

Tilda did as Aloy said, then headed back to her spot by the furnace. Away from the fire, in Aloy's cold corner, her breath puffed into the air, and a chill rushed under her skin.

The huntress fared better than her this time. The wild hardened her resolve; she didn't need to be kept warm through the night.

Aloy hugged the pillow to her chest, falling asleep shortly after, and Tilda laid facing her. At least with Aloy back she'd be able to sleep. No more impeding thoughts of Aloy entwined in another woman's embrace.

'Goodnight, my hard-headed hunter'.