A.N: Just a very quick story I wrote in between chapters of Memories and I'm cleaning up the second half now. I already posted this on my Tumblr and thank you to everyone who has read this. Posting here to make it an official part of my writing collection :)
"One day it'll catch up to you."
Her moccasins slid on arid red rock, her heels stopping right at the edge of the cliffside.
'Shitshitshitshitshit.'
Lingering momentum tilted her back, lifting the balls of her feet from the Earth, and Aloy stabbed the end of her lance to the ground as her heartbeat pounded in her ears; her wide gaze eyeing the long drop over her shoulder.
She had a split second to make a move or fall to her death.
She grabbed the lance with her other hand and launched herself forward, ducking in time to avoid a fatal swipe from the Clamberjaw's tail.
"Tilda's gonna kill me."
The Clamberjaw sprang into the air headed right for her. She rolled out of the way, opposite the cliff, eyeing the machine with re-engaged focus. The ground rumbled and dust plumed from the machine's landing at the cliff's edge. The machine's red eyes honed in on her and its razored jaw gnashed at her as it primed its next attack. But after too many years and too many machines, this annoying thing couldn't make her flinch.
If she hurried she could strike and send it over the cliff—
Too late.
The Clamberjaw bounced and spun towards her, its spiked tail whizzing through the air with every slicing strike she dodged. It leapt onto the side of a nearby plateau, using its powerful legs to springboard itself directly at her with unparalleled speed. She dodged but the machine spun mid-air, the tail slicing into her side and slamming her to the ground.
Her heart thumped in her ears again, but this time it felt like more than a warning.
When had she ever been stupid enough to mess up a dodge like that? She saw the machine, predicted its move and had plenty of time to dodge, but her judgment came a second too late.
She groaned and rolled onto her back, trying to keep Tilda's worried lecture from clouding her thoughts.
'Still breathing…that's good.'
Aloy sat up and froze halfway with clenched teeth. Shattering agony ripped through her and she grabbed her side. Warmth moistened her hand and she smelled the iron in the air but hesitated to look at the damage.
The Clamberjaw scanned in her direction, but she was hidden, at least for a moment.
She took her hand away, eyeing the blood on her palm. 'Fuck.'
An ear-splitting screech pierced the hot evening air and she grabbed her lance, launching to her feet with a grimace. Pain could wait.
The Clamberjaw rushed at her out of a cloud of its noxious green spores and Aloy pulled back her lance.
'One shot, one kill. Make it count.'
She eyed the split between the machine's chest plates and met it head on, driving her lance through the weak point.
The air crackled as sparks flew and the red light in the Clamberjaw's eyes died. It fell to the ground, its dead weight taking her lance with it. She bent over to reach for it, stopped by an agonizing strike through her side. Her jaw clenched and she fell to a knee, holding the wound.
*beep beep, beep beep*
Her focus alerted a call.
Aloy sighed at the name displayed on her HUD. If she didn't answer she wouldn't hear the end of it when she returned. But the pain…
A rib had to be broken, maybe something worse.
'Showtime.' She huffed out a last growl and sucked in a breath to ready herself before accepting the call. "Hey, how's it going?" Her voice came without a strain, as confident as ever.
"I was calling to ask you that. Will you be back tonight?"
"…yeah…why? You need something else? I found that Tritinium core you were looking for."
"You did?"
Aloy smiled at Tilda's bright tone. "…I did." A wave of agony sparked from her side and she dug her grip into the wound, gritting her teeth to keep from making a sound.
"I have good news for you too. I managed to isolate the source of Gaia's malfunction. When you return we'll talk about it."
Aloy sighed the ragged breath locked in her chest as she hunched, feeling lightheaded. "…that's great…" She looked at her bloodied hand again, her entire palm dripping red.
"Are…Are you okay?" Tilda said suddenly stern and Aloy cursed herself for the sigh that gave it away.
"Yeah, fine, why?" Aloy said quickly, trying to feign confidence.
"Aloy, what happ—"
Aloy disconnected the call and hung her head. "I hate lying."
Tilda would hate her for ending the call, but she couldn't let Tilda hear her struggle. She yanked the lance from the Clamberjaw and stabbed it in the ground to help hoist herself up. Her legs trembled slightly. That wasn't good, she didn't have much time before she passed out.
She whistled, relieved to see the Sunwing swooping down.
'This is a bad idea.'
Flying on a machine in the air while bleeding out was probably not her best idea, but it was the fastest way to get to the base. Even the nearest settlement was hours away. She might as well take a chance and push through to make it home. Just...hopefully she didn't fall off.
'Maybe it'll catch me. If it likes me enough. Can a machine make that decision?'
The Sunwing landed and she climbed atop, glancing to the horizon with an anxious pang in her chest at the wane of the sun over the mountain side. On her cue the Sunwing launched into the air.
Tilda called every day for the last three days, and she didn't blame her for worrying. The trip was only supposed to be a quick errand to gather some supplies, but she got tied up along the way. A traveling Oseram family's cart lost a wheel on the road to Barren Light. Helping them find parts and repair the broken wheel tacked an additional two days to her quick journey. Four days later, Tilda was worried, and rightfully so. In their ten years, Tilda saw her limp home more than once but rarely like this.
She locked her forearm under a tubule at the Sunwing's neck in case she lost her hold.
Her eyes closed more than once. Some moments in the flight a blur, others, blank lapses in her memory.
The Sunwing touched down in the middle of Varl's place and she slumped off, falling to her knees when her legs gave. All-Mother spared her again. She stabbed the butt of her lance into the ground and hoisted herself up with a considerable amount of effort this time; the world spinning for a second or more, until colors shifted to blurs.
'Just get to the door.'
She trudged forward on numb legs; the fleeting sensation of the ground beneath her feet a saving grace. At least she was standing.
Outside the base door, she gathered herself, relying on the lance to keep her upright. Tilda couldn't see her doubled over in pain.
"Game face."
Tilda taught her the catchy saying sometime before the final push to Nemesis, and she couldn't stop using it. She inhaled but her breath caught on the stabbing pain in her side.
"Come on Aloy." She shook off the haze and rolled her shoulders back, taking her hand from her waist as she stepped in.
The base was silent except for the internal hum of machinery, and Tilda was somewhere, waiting for her. She swallowed the nauseous lump in her throat and stepped into the common area, where her friends and allies used to gather. The door shut behind her and at the sound Tilda hurried out of the hydroponics lab a few doors down, poised to reprimand, but halfway to her Tilda stopped, glancing down with a strange look in her eyes.
Tilda sized her and they shared a gaze, Aloy smiling at the sight of Tilda again in a set of old world clothes. She called them her "work" clothes, and always looked great in that shirt with the buttons and rolled sleeves.
"Aloy…"
Sweat beaded across her brow and she slumped slightly, her body hot and cold at the same time as her grip on the lance numbed.
'I just need to sit.' The world closed in around her, her vision tunneling more with each passing moment. She eyed a chair straight ahead but she couldn't move, her legs couldn't hold her.
"Aloy!"
Reality was pulled like a rug from beneath her and the next moment Tilda was at her side. Aloy smiled weakly at the image above her. Even in a blur she still knew the shift of Tilda's face when she was angry.
"…don't get mad—"
"Quiet."
Aloy closed her eyes and turned her face into Tilda's shirt. "I'm fine."
A moment later the world faded away.
There was only one person in the world she cared about.
…one.
And that one person was bleeding out before her eyes.
She caught Aloy before the huntress face-planted to the floor, but Aloy's dead weight brought her to her knees. Pale-faced with dull eyes, Aloy looked like a ghost when she returned. Blood dripped to the floor from her side, and she didn't even try to hide it.
God, she hated it when Aloy omitted important details to "not worry her". Yes, Aloy used the excuse often. It wasn't the first, second, or even third time Aloy tried to spare her feelings by hiding her pain.
She eyed the nasty tear in Aloy's armor and bleeding gash in her skin. It looked like a machine took a bite out of her. The injury was severe, yet, still nothing as horrifying as the aftermath of the final battle with Nemesis.
Nemesis brought Aloy to the gates of hell and back. Aloy made the final push alone, diverting her friends and allies with a clever last-minute deception. By the time they figured out Aloy's solitary intentions and hurried back to her aid it was too late. Trapped outside the arena, they had no option but to watch Aloy fight to the brink of death before their eyes.
Nemesis was her fight, her duty and purpose to destroy the last obstacle to Zero Dawn. She was grateful for the efforts of each ally but wouldn't let anyone else die helping her in the end.
That's how Aloy saw it. No one else agreed.
For two weeks following the destruction of Nemesis, Aloy laid in a Zenith stasis chamber. With a deep furrow across her brow Tilda watched Aloy heal, herself a button-press away from forcing the longevity decision. She could've rationalized it, telling Aloy it was the "only option" once the huntress woke, but then the trust they'd gathered would be lost.
Aloy would hate her for taking away that choice. Frustrating as it was, Aloy had to make the decision herself.
Tilda tossed Aloy's weapons aside and unhooked what she could of Aloy's gear, anything to make her lighter. Then she dragged the huntress to her room—their room—and went through the motions, laying out the med kit on the desk; her heart beating in her chest no less than the last time Aloy came home torn and bruised.
Aloy wouldn't die. In her control, death was no longer an obstacle. But the story would've been very different had Aloy never made it home. Alone in some forest or slumped against a rock, Tilda pictured all the places Aloy could meet her end.
The disconnected call made her angrier than the gaping wound at Aloy's side. It could've been the last time she heard her voice.
If Aloy loved her, why did she hide so much? She needn't. Not after all they'd shared.
She'd watched Aloy age a decade before her eyes; the huntress growing wiser, though she still had much to learn. But new growth wasn't Aloy's journey alone. All this time later she'd just begun to adapt to this new, primitive world, and Aloy was her constant through ever-changing circumstances.
She couldn't lose her, but measuring precise doses of Arum was stress-inducing. Each dose differed depending on the situation. It had to be just enough to repair Aloy's wounds but not kill her. Arum, the powerful Zenith healing agent, could end Aloy's life in minutes if anything went wrong; the risk, one of few things in life that made her palms clammy.
At Aloy's side, Tilda injected the wound with a dose of cortizene first—a quick fix steroid. Aloy had been needing it more often, to ease the aches and pains.
Between medications she pulled Aloy out of every piece of armor, an arduous process. Then came that meticulously measured dose of Arum and a clean bandage wrapped around Aloy's waist.
Without full longevity treatment, Aloy's body could still reject the Arum. In line with the cortizene it worked quick, reconstructing tissues and healing traumas. For now, the only thing left to do was wait. She wouldn't bother the wound again until after Aloy woke, and by morning it would only be a fraction of the size, continuing to mend until there was nothing left to heal.
Tilda pulled the blanket over Aloy. The huntress's breaths even in her arms as she watched for any sign of intolerance.
'I swear, you'll be the death of me.'