A.N. Thank you to the amazing Samantha_Eilhart1533 for looking this over. It's been done for a while but I really did not like this chapter. The next chapters are back to dialogue heavy.
Trigger warning: For one animal killed within the scope of hunting, and I tried to keep the violence light.
Happy reading :)
Chapter 6
'So much for first thing in the morning.'
The huntress slept hard. The morning sun rose, and she didn't with it.
Sunlight showed through cracks and gaps in-between the room's imperfect wood panels. Aloy laid on her stomach, with the pillow stuffed under her head, and three out of four limbs splayed in the stereotypical "dead body" pose; her back rising and falling with her even breaths. It reminded her of Lis's post-work naps after the most difficult days, where she'd find the scientist lying on the rug in the living room.
A gentle rouse on the shoulder would wake her, but the softened features of Aloy's face held Tilda's gaze captive. It really was Elisabet, her Elisabet, reborn.
'I know you better than anyone else.'
Tilda knelt beside her. She reached out slow, her hand hovering close to Aloy's skin, her fingertips itching to touch. Just feeling the heat from her skin was a blessing. Aloy shifted and Tilda pulled her hand away, sitting quiet for a moment. Watching her sleep was more rewarding than pushing her luck, but there was plenty of time for that later.
Tilda stood and headed to the door, opening it carefully, though it still creaked. She glanced back to see if Aloy woke at the sound but the huntress didn't move a muscle.
Crisp, cool morning air caressed her face and she stepped outside with a squint against the sun, catching the gaze of the approaching woman. Tilda groaned. 'Of course.'
"How's she doin'?"
The smug smile on the woman's face made her brow furrow. The woman went to move past her, but Tilda closed the door and kept her hand wrapped around the handle.
"She's fine."
A stiff challenge passed between them where they stood. The woman was attractive, young, seemed nice, and surely, she could find someone other than Aloy to occupy her time. Someone else she could get drunk and live out her fantasies with.
"Didn't know Nora kept bodyguards."
Tilda lifted her chin. "I'll let her know you stopped by." She said, smirking at the good old corporate send off.
They held scalding gazes for a long moment. Then, with a smirk and a "hmph", the woman left.
"Don't take forever to comeback." Petra said and squeezed Aloy's shoulder, letting go shortly after. "Who else am I gonna drink with? No one can replace the beautiful savior of meridian."
Squinting against the sun with a hand shielding her eyes from the glare, Aloy cracked a nervous smile. "Still recovering from the last one."
"Didn't think you'd make it past two. I'm impressed."
"How many drinks did I have?"
"A worthy amount."
Aloy looked down, her smile tight. "Hope I didn't say anything too weird."
"Nothing I couldn't handle."
"That doesn't sound good…"
"Seriously." Petra touched her arm. "Don't keep me waiting for the next drink, Savior."
"Wish I could stay longer but…" Aloy shrugged. "You know me."
"I'll be here, Red. And the next time you're here, you better not be "passing through"." Petra smiled and Aloy smiled back.
Tilda stood outside the gate, watching the pair flirt around pleasantries with her arms crossed, waiting beside her charger for Aloy to finish her goodbyes.
That woman gave Aloy a last hug—thankfully—and said a few words that had Aloy looking over her shoulder, at her with a furrowed brow. The woman must've mentioned how she "guarded" the door. She scoffed under her breath as Aloy said something that looked like an apology with a placating gesture before the two parted ways.
Lips set in a line, Aloy all but stomped her way, not looking at her once as she passed through the gate.
"Would it kill you to be a little nicer?"
They climbed on the chargers and Tilda smirked. 'Nicer to the woman trying to sleep with you? Yes, it would.'
A canopy of trees sheltered them from the sun as desert turned to forest.
The chargers galloped fast and hard along the path but this time Aloy mellowed, slowing occasionally, in contrast to her impatient hurry. For once Aloy gave her a chance to study the new world around them. Well, new to her.
Something was missing. Earth was Earth, but also less than it was before. So quiet and barren, with sparse landscapes devoid of human life. This Earth was an eerie replication of that which was long lost. Even the deserts seemed lonelier.
Foxes, falcons, boar—the same animals kept reappearing along their journey. Zero dawn wasn't exactly Noah's Ark. Storage space for zygotes was limited but Elisabet got close, selecting the most important species needed for life's sustainability. The plague wiped out the original ecosystem, a plethora of flora and fauna lost forever—so much Aloy would never see. Zero Dawn kick-started regrowth, but after a thousand years, not every species stored would survive Earth's drastic changes.
Their path steepened once more. Another mountain to climb. But the smoother, softer aesthetic of this new mountain welcomed unlike the sharp, pointy façade of the base. That jagged grey exterior was perfect for keeping people away.
Aloy's charger slowed to a stop at the base of the mountain, in the middle of a fork in the path, and Tilda's followed. "We're getting close to Nora Territory."
"How can you tell?"
The trees, rocks, and bushes looked the same in all directions.
"I've memorized the paths." Aloy said then sat quiet for a second, unmoving. "We should…take one from here. Nora reject the machines, they may see more than one as a threat." Aloy kept her voice low and didn't turn more than an ear over her shoulder, but Tilda got the hint.
"I see." She hopped off her charger, walking to where Aloy waited with her gaze fixed ahead. That wish was about to come true but the unease creeping into Aloy's eyes took the triumph out of the moment. "Hope you won't mind the intrusion." Tilda climbed aboard, hooking her fingers under the charger's metal plates as she settled close; the insides of her knees barely touching Aloy's thighs.
At Aloy's command the charger walked forward, following the path up the mountain.
"You should hold on. The climb from here is steep."
Permission given.
Tilda took hold of Aloy's armor as the charger's pace increased. Aloy quiet…so very quiet.
To think they took cars for granted in the old world. Edging cliffs and scaling mountains was apprehensive enough from the safety of an enclosed vehicle, but this…one bad move and they were done; the climb precarious enough to warrant a rush of adrenaline through her veins as she eyed the massive drop over the rising cliff.
The charger's tilt steepened and at the slightest backward slip in her seat Tilda lurched forward and grabbed Aloy with a tight squeeze; Aloy's deep inhale against her the only sign of any discomfort. They both eyed the drop over the cliff—herself more than Aloy. A gentle stream flowed through the basin. Its flow strangely calm in comparison to the riling drop.
She focused on something else, her body warming where she felt the huntress's every shift against her front as her hips meshed with Aloy's. The last time she held Lis this close…
No. She hesitated to reminisce. Yet, part of her couldn't help but note all the similarities between Lis and the woman in her grasp.
Tilda's forehead pressed to her shoulder—a bold move—and Aloy's brow furrowed; Tilda's act something much more than just fatigue from the trip.
If it weren't for Zo's sympathetic words at the forefront of her mind, she might've hopped off. The emotions stirring from Tilda were too much. They seeped into her, stole her breath, tightened her chest, and much like Tilda, didn't let go.
But…the warmth of someone close, relying on her entirely, it wasn't a terrible feeling.
For miles the charger trotted past a perimeter fence made from thick, sharpened logs stuck vertical in the ground, their points facing the sky. A break in the fence appeared as the afternoon sun waned, in the form of an open gate made from the same wooden logs, expertly bound together with blue and white rope.
They passed through the gate. On the other side, at the apex of a snowy incline, a small log cabin very rustic in nature. Imperfect, but sturdy.
"We'll stay here for the night."
Aloy's somber tone touched her ears.
"Where's here?"
The charger stopped at the foot of the incline.
Dusted with snow, black shalestone steps formed by nature led up to the cabin.
"Where I used to live." Aloy slipped out of her grasp and hopped down. She stood for a moment, eyeing the cabin's façade with a creased brow and set lips, then started the trek up. Tilda followed, stepping where Aloy stepped as snow frozen over the smooth stone made the surfaces slippery like ice. The cold rock chilled the tender bottoms of her feet through the moccasins' leather soles, and she fleetingly wished for the comforts of her suit.
That suit was her second skin, temperature controlled, her body never hot nor cold. And she abandoned it, simply because Aloy said so. The thought came as a disturbing reality to feed her realization of how far she'd fallen. But she had nothing left to lose. There was nothing more she could lose, except Aloy. This was all for her.
At a step, snow slushed under her foot and her foot slipped into a crevasse. A hand reached out, swiftly catching her before she could register her pending fall. Their eyes met and lingered a moment but Aloy looked down.
"That step always gets me." Aloy pulled her up and helped her over the step, smiling a little as she continued to the cabin. "Rost said he'd fix it, but never did. Then, he said, "falling builds character, trains reflexes, and pain teaches you to avoid the cause"."
Her foot slid again but Tilda caught her balance before Aloy had to save her again.
"Who's Rost?"
Aloy stayed quiet at the question. At the cabin door she pushed, it creaking open as she entered like a stranger walking in for the first time, looking around at the idle, frigid insides. Something bad happened to the cabin's owner, this person, Rost. That was written in the tight tense on Aloy's brow.
"He took care of me."
Tilda stepped into the cabin. "He raised you."
Aloy looked down where she stood in the middle of the room. "…he taught me everything I know."
The little cabin was a far cry from the well-established ranch Elisabet called her childhood home. But with a fire going, the place wouldn't be half-bad. A small cozy retreat in the woods. City people in the old world dreamed of an escape such as this. Living "off the grid", the ultimate rebellion and escape from stressful corporate life, it did have a certain appeal.
Aloy sighed.
"What happened to him?" Tilda spoke soft and careful. "If you don't want to say that's fine."
"We were ambushed...he gave his life to save mine." Aloy gazed at the separate hide mats lying on the floor, next to a fireplace with unused logs still sitting beside it. "You're right. It's not something I want to talk about."
Aloy moved to a work bench in a corner of the cabin; a small arsenal hanging on the wall in front of her. A couple spears, one with serrated edges, and a couple bows. Aloy pulled a bow off the wall, her jaw clenching as she held it in her hands. She switched it for the bow on her back.
"Time to get dinner." Aloy approached Tilda, offering her bow in her outstretched hand.
"You think I can shoot that?"
"No, but you can learn. Besides, knowing a thing or two about a bow will help you pass as a Nora."
With no room for negotiation in Aloy's eyes, Tilda took it, the bow lighter than she expected. "Not exactly candles and a bottle of champagne." Tilda smiled to Aloy's raised eyebrow. "You certainly know how to make a girl work for dinner."
"I'm guessing I don't want to know what any of that means." Aloy stepped past her and to the door with a groan, but a little displeasure was better than a snapping remark.
She hid because Aloy hid and crouched because she crouched. Zeniths were the ultimate power over all, but having no shield evened the odds, greatly.
They trekked through grass slow and watchful. Aloy's bow a strange piece of wood foreign to her hand as she followed in the huntress's shadow.
Aloy stopped sudden, blocking her advance with an arm out. "Down." Aloy took a knee and Tilda followed. They peered between blades of flowing tall grass to a black ram grazing in the distance, one of its sides facing them, the other facing the sun.
"Ready?" Aloy whispered as they watched.
"Ready?" Tilda said and quirked a brow. The bow had barely been in her hands for an hour and Aloy expected her to kill an animal on her own? Zenith didn't hunt food, they made it.
With short glances Aloy kept a keen eye on the grazing ram. Taking her bow from Tilda's grasp, she drew an arrow from her quiver and held it palm down, with the wood shaft locked between her first and middle finger. "Hold it like this." Aloy offered her hand. "Go ahead."
Her right hand took Aloy's…not grasping deep, not clutching as every part of her wanted.
"Don't let go."
The bow lowered to Aloy's bent knee, their hands moving as one as Aloy placed the butt of the arrow to the string. "Hook the notch at the end of the arrow to the string and draw." Aloy pulled back the string to demonstrate, tension putting space between their hands as Aloy's grip tightened around the arrow.
Hook and draw. Sounded so easy. Aloy dismissed her own skill.
Arrow after arrow, she'd watched Aloy launch them with quick succession. Nothing should've brought down Spectre Prime, but the onslaught of arrows berated the machine with merciless attacks, weakening vulnerabilities she didn't know existed. But one glance to Aloy's forearm answered her bafflement. Written in the peak and flex of every muscle, countless hours of training and skill.
"Understanding the mechanics of the draw is the most important part." Aloy said, reciting the words as though she recalled a lesson taught to her. She sighed, the arrow and string going limp in her slackened grasp as she watched the ram through wuthering grass with sadness touching her gaze. She blinked the emotion back and looked down a moment later.
"Your turn." Aloy pulled her hand from the arrow, from underneath hers, and handed back the bow.
The wind rustled through them, but her eyes couldn't let Aloy go.
Who got a second chance to see a deceased loved one risen again? Not as a ghost, or a hallucination, but as something real, a body with its own warmth and a heart with a living beat?
No one.
She stared at Aloy's somber profile.
"Tilda." Aloy looked over and Tilda sturdied her grasp on the arrow between her fingers and set it to the bow, mimicking Aloy's demonstration. Hopefully she'd figured it out. She hardly focused on Aloy's words with their fingers almost entwined. Tilda lifted the bow, sitting up on her knee to clear the tips of grass as she attempted to point the arrow at the unsuspecting ram.
Over her shoulder Aloy studied the target. She scooted close and took her wrist, adjusting the bow to follow the ram as it shifted its stance and footing in the patch of grass; her grasp on Aloy's bow white-knuckled as she squeezed the grip, having almost forgotten the intimacy of Elisabet's touch.
Her brow furrowed. After a thousand years without her, sensations once rapturous, faded to obscurity against her will, and virtual reality had its limits. A program's touch could never replace the warm life of real flesh and blood.
"Lis."
Aloy's touch awakened an old memory, and a sad one. She stood on Elisabet's doorstep soaking wet, her forehead pressed to the ranch's front door as rain showered down from a black sky. The end of their relationship wasn't fresh and Elisabet hated her, but the Odyssey left in the morning. She had to see her, no matter what.
Elisabet never said the words, but her touch…
Her touch. Aloy didn't know how her touch fueled their most intimate moments. How her hands caressed lovingly and tenderly but held firm, like she protected a precious discovery she couldn't afford to lose. Being reunited with Elisabet was the reward for the integrity of her devotion, her love.
"Breathe in, then hold your breath before you take the shot. It steadies your aim."
Tilda heard Aloy in the background of her memories.
Her last night on Earth was one of few nights she didn't sleep. Her focus stayed on Elisabet, committing all she could to memory before daylight awakened new dread.
The bed held her captive that morning. She wanted to stay and wait until Elisabet woke, but there wasn't time. And their last moments wouldn't be marred by another argument. If Elisabet found her lingering she'd dismiss the night before, shame it, and call it a lapse in judgment. No, her last memory of Elisabet wouldn't be a fight. A snuck kiss and a letter on her nightstand had to suffice, though it never would.
Aloy hovered behind her but hadn't said a word or moved the bow. They had to shoot eventually. They couldn't sit like this forever, though she wished they could. Aloy close, it was all she wanted. But the animal wouldn't stay in place much longer. Mother nature already gave them a generous amount of time.
The ram's backside faced them; Aloy must've been waiting for a better target. A shot in its hind leg wouldn't do much good, only make it suffer.
The ram turned its side to them again and Tilda's relaxed grip clenched to attention as Aloy shifted her aim. "Steady." Aloy helped stabilize the bow, placing a hand on the wood just above hers. "Right behind the front leg. Use the notches to line up a shot."
Cut into Aloy's bow four horizontal notches stacked one atop the other.
"Which one?"
The ram looked their way and they shrunk behind the grass, waiting huddled, completely silent, not moving a single muscle as it sniffed in their direction.
Aloy didn't breathe. No part of her moved as her eyes stayed locked onto the ram. They waited, their chests growing tight as they hesitated to take a breath.
The ram lowered its head and grazed, and the tension melted with their exhales.
"The notch closest to the arrow." Aloy whispered and Tilda sat up on a knee, once again clearing the grass to line up a shot.
"Draw."
Here came the test of her aptitude. She copied an image in her mind, of Aloy holding the bow at full draw and tested her luck, pulling the bowstring back as much as she could. Aloy shifted the bow an inch to the left and nudged her elbow up, then backed off and let her work out the rest; her muscles quickly fatiguing at the prolonged resistance testing her pull.
How did Aloy do this day after day?
Her hand trembled slightly and she tightened her grip.
"More."
With a grimace, Tilda tugged the arrow back another inch, and Aloy came around her quick and quiet, taking her hand with a strong grasp; the huntress's thumb pressed firm into the sensitive underside of her wrist as she pulled the arrow back even more.
Taut as it was, the string didn't break, a surprise.
"Shoot."
Aloy carefully let go and the arrow flew across the field with unbridled freedom, her own muscles lacking without Aloy's help. It landed in its target, and her adrenaline spiked with a sudden rush at the squeal that leapt into the air.
The ram took off, sprinting with the arrow lodged in its side and Aloy leapt out of hiding, racing in hot pursuit, and Tilda after her. If the ram hadn't moved so fast, she would've stayed and waited for Aloy to finish it off. But the wounded animal covered ground at an astounding rate—as did the huntress—and she had to follow or be left behind.
Such a strange feeling it was, using her feet to run. Using energy to fly was much more efficient, faster, and easier. The suit did most of the work.
Aloy must've had legs of steel under her armor, musculature sculpted sharp and defined. Racing after kills like this was no easy feat. It had to be a quarter mile before they slowed, her own heart slamming into her chest.
The blood trail thickened and before them the ram laid on its side, unmoving.
Aloy approached and crouched, examining the animal with an eight inch knife ready, not one bit out of breath, a stark contrast to her own heaving chest.
Aloy turned to her with a bright smile that tested her inhibitions. "Good shot." She said and Tilda nodded in response, her breaths calming as she combed the tousle out of her hair.
Aloy gutted the ram, Tilda looking away with a grimace and a sour taste in her mouth as her stomach turned.
"Not sure how you do that."
"Never had a choice." Aloy worked quick and stood. "This gets messy."
No kidding. Tilda looked over and Aloy's hands were completely red, her forearms smeared the same color.
"I'll see you at the cabin."
She crouched and hoisted the gutted ram onto her back, starting away from her.
"Shoot some of the targets while I'm out." Aloy said over her shoulder.
'This isn't so hard.'
An arrow punched into the straw dummy's side, landing outside the target's white ring. A few lucky shots landed in the yellow but she had yet to make a bullseye; her hand didn't quite mesh with the leather gripping, worn and imprinted with Aloy's tenured hold. She examined the bow, turning it in her hand. Why did Aloy trust her with her closest pride and joy? Whatever the reason, she'd take good care of it.
Aloy returned hours after the hunt, carrying only a few wrapped packs of meat in her hands when she expected to see Aloy coming up the steps, lugging the husk of an animal on her back.
"Where's the rest of it?"
"I only took what we need. The animals will eat the rest."
"So, a considerate hunter…"
Aloy cooked the food, and a strange domesticity softened the cabin's air as Aloy laid by a pot boiling over the fire, sifting through her focus to stay busy…or, more likely, to avoid conversation. Elisabet liked to cook, said it was relaxing to only have one thing to focus on, but she rarely did. The world stole most of her time.
A stew of meat was far from luxurious but satisfied their needs. Aloy crashed in front of the fire soon after they ate, falling asleep in minutes, and she gave her space, using the last hours of sunlight to practice; Aloy's proud and beautiful smile in that field encouraging her to make another "good shot". That smile for her alone, the sight steeled her fortitude and fueled her devotion. If this bow was the way to Aloy's heart, she'd master it.
White feathered arrows sat in a bucket on the ground next to the target. An hour earlier her missed shots littered the ground. Only recently did any of them land somewhere on the target.
Aloy praised her for that good kill, but in truth it was because of Aloy's precision that the shot succeeded. Aloy knew exactly where to aim, and how much to pull. On her own that crucial shot would've been a dud.
Aloy's body pressed to hers…the rapturous sensation wouldn't leave her thoughts, even as the sun drifted down the horizon.
"Your elbow's too low when you're aiming."
Tilda looked over her shoulder quick, blindsided by Aloy's voice. How long had she been watching? Long enough to catch her hideous mistakes? Aloy leaned against the doorway with her arms crossed, watching her with a tired look. Something wasn't right. Sorrow overwhelmed her gaze.
"Did I wake you?"
"No." Aloy pushed off the door and started past her to the target, ignoring her small smile; a frown on her own face. She didn't wake up because she wanted to, but because something woke her.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Aloy said in a low voice and tugged the last shot out of the target, stopping in front of her to offer the arrow from her hand. "Try again."
Their gazes met but Aloy's didn't linger. Something bothered her. She searched the frown on Aloy's face, wanting to reach out, and lift the huntress's gaze to her. But a touch from her, Aloy wouldn't have it. Not yet. Her fingers fleetingly grazed Aloy's hand as she took the arrow with a soft grasp, and Aloy moved to her side, eyeing the target with her.
"Aim." Aloy said.
Tilda set the arrow to the string and lifted the bow, lining the sight with the red bullseye.
"Elbow parallel to the ground." Aloy moved close, adjusting her posture, lifting the bent crook of her elbow with one hand. "Your strength comes from here."
At Aloy's touch in the middle of her back, Tilda tensed. A spark rushed to the space between her shoulder blades and her heart jumped, but she kept her emotion inward, her face not showing more than a twitch of her falter.
"Now, try again."
She could've mistaken Aloy's downtrodden tone for something sultry. If Aloy ever wanted to make a move, she wouldn't have to try very hard. The gentle rasp to the lower register of Elisabet's voice alone always sent a chill down her neck.
Tilda drew the arrow back.
"Pull from here."
Aloy gently pressed into her back and Tilda focused on that, drawing the arrow back further until she felt Aloy's hand squeezed between her shoulder blades.
"Shoot."
Tilda let go and the arrow flew out, landing on the bullseye's outer edge. She lowered the bow and turned to Aloy, who stepped away and gave her a small "told you so" smile before she wandered back to the cabin.
"Remember that." Aloy stopped in the doorway. "In the wild you won't get a second chance. One shot, one kill. Try to get as close as you can."
A pause lingered in the air.
"We should rest. Tomorrow's going to be a long day," Aloy said and disappeared inside, and she looked on with a helpless stare.
'Aloy, if I could hold you I would. I know you. I know what eases your pain. With me you would never suffer. If you would just let me show you.'
"Follow."
Her small stature forced her to jog to keep up with his large strides. "Where are we going?" Aloy said with a bright look in her eyes and a bounce in her step.
"To get food."
They walked for a long while, down a path facing the sun, until they met a shaded cliff. They waded through foliage to reach the perch and stopped near the edge, looking down to the crater below, filled with a sea of grass, where two rams grazed lazily within.
"Ready yourself."
She readied her small spear but stopped with a turmoiled gaze. "There's a calf with it."
"That doesn't matter. Focus."
Aloy shook her head and lowered her spear. "I don't want to."
"You must."
"Then it will be all alone."
"Aloy, focus."
"No." She said and held a defiant gaze in the face of his tensing brow.
He backed away and stopped her at the end of his spear when she tried to follow. "You will do this on your own. If you fail, we don't eat."
"But—"
"Don't disappoint me." Rost said and crouched under a tree in wait. "Go on."
Aloy turned to the rams, looking over the perch with a quiver in her lip. They looked so happy, but her growling stomach helped motivate her, as did his disappointment, that loomed over her like an ominous shadow. "…I can't." She turned to him with tears welling in her eyes.
Dark clouds swirled in a blue sky that bled to red, and the sun eclipsed, day turning to night as darkness befell the land; a bright sliver at the edge of that black circle in the sky providing a modicum of light.
He stomped over and snatched her wrist in a vice grip, her gaze meeting his gaze quick. That wasn't the grasp of the man who cared about her, but of something malicious.
He stood in plain view and lifted her from her feet until her eyes were level with his. The wind blew dread into thickening acrid air, and an orange glow flickered about his person.
"A hunter has absolute control over his mind. You do not." His eyes turned black and hers widened in horror as she stared into a glassy abyss; a dark grey consuming the life under his skin. A roar increased behind her, from a soft crackle to rolling thunder. Smoke reached their perch and ceaseless heat suffocated the air from her lungs as she struggled against his grip.
He started to the edge of the cliff. "When it comes time to prove yourself, can you do it? Or will your feelings get in the way?"
"R-Rost?" Her feet hovered over the ground, and she kicked in a futile attempt to feel its surface.
"Think foolishly and you'll die."
The ground beneath her disappeared as he held her out over the edge, where she dangled like a rag doll in his grasp. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes wide and skin pale at the surmounting pit of flames where the grass had been. The grazing animals incinerated to dust where they stood.
"Rost, don't."
The voice of the child disappeared, and she felt the full weight of her gear dragging her down, encouraging her demise. Her other hand gripped his forearm and her fingers dug into his skin.
"Fight it." The hand holding her crumbled away.
"Rost!" She fell, flailing to save herself, too far from the cliff for her grapple to catch. She crashed to the ground and scrambled to her feet to fight the fire, but it didn't burn. "What?" She stood untouched where she should've been charred to bits. The heat alone should've ripped and seared the flesh from her bones, but nothing burned.
"Can you do what needs to be done?"
His malevolent form materialized on the other side of a barricade of lashing flames. Not even the fire's light touched his hollow black eyes.
"Don't hold back."
He launched at her, bursting through flames with a blazing lance and she rolled out of the way, narrowly avoiding his next swipe.
"Prove your strength, hunter."
She reached for her lance out of instinct, caught it, just blocking a fast attack that sent her feet sliding back and her heels digging into the ground.
"Hide your weakness."
At a breaking impact to the middle of her lance, she grimaced and stumbled in her stance.
"Have I taught you nothing!" He growled and swiped at her, relentless in his rage, inhuman in his speed, every crashing blow to her lance knocking her back.
"Your enemy is not your friend."
Their lances crossed mightily and she fell to her knee. He was too powerful. He pushed and she slid back where she knelt amidst flames. He was right, she'd failed. Her arms trembled and the muscles in her back twitched against his strength. Is this who the death seeker was? A merciless, ruthless warrior with no conscience. What kind of existence was that?
People were cruel, some heartless, but every one deserved a chance to redeem themselves, and prove their good.
"Weak."
She looked into the entity's face. This was a test. This wasn't him. She planted her foot into the ground and launched up, shoving him back with a great thrust of her lance.
He vanished into thin air and she gathered a solid stance with a curl of her lip and a deep furrow of her brow. "You're not Rost."
From the fire a humanoid shadow rose in Rost's place, standing tall amongst those flames that flickered between them. She charged at it head on, pulling back her lance for a grand strike. This monster dishonored his memory and had to be eliminated. Blow after blow their lances clashed and her mind honed a dark focus, dark like the void where the shadow's eyes should've met hers. She thought of nothing else, only revenge, imagining it was what Rost felt as he sliced apart those responsible for killing his mate.
Their blades clashed and scraped loud over the fire's roar, sparking from the friction as she threw every ounce of her weight into her attacks.
This is what it wanted, right? Her rage, her anger. To give into the fury rushing hot through her veins and empowering her fight.
Rost was an honorable man. The greatest hunter she knew. Her footsteps would never be greater than his but she'd make him proud.
She dodged the shadow's close swipes at her midsection and answered with her own.
"Your defeat will be swift."
Rost's voice twisted to something slithering along gravel. The shadow shifted positions in quick flashes, each strike closer, destabilizing, overwhelming her with speed and ferocity as she stumbled back.
From thin air, inches from her the shadow reappeared and blindsided her with a quick strike, a sudden thrust that pierced through her. Her lance dropped to the ground and blood seeped from where the blade punched into her stomach.
"Forget me, Aloy."
The shadow ripped the lance from her and shoved her back and she crashed into the earth, it shattering beneath her as she fell, consumed by the void, that soul-sucking abyss where the world faded to black. Nothing to grab, nothing to hold, just an endless fall that made her wish for an end.
A strong grasp caught her and she swung to a halt, looking up, her eyes wide at the sight of his face and the snow covered Nora mountains behind him. 'The Proving.'
Smoke billowed behind him; a fire building steadily and quickly, on the verge of erupting against the snowy cliffside. She dangled off the side of the mountain, his grasp the only thing keeping her from the painful demise below.
Rost, not as a shadow but himself looked deep into her eyes with a knowing gaze.
"She knows." He let her go before she could utter a word.
"Rost!"
Her stomach lurched and dropped with the fall and seconds later the explosion engulfed him. She smacked into the rocky sidewall of the cliff, bouncing off the mountain like a toy tossed down a hill, each hit a clattering slam of agony.
The one person who accepted her, loved her, trained her, disappeared in an instant behind a plume of fire. She never stopped reaching for his hand, but the world evaporated around her, sending her back to black.
Here the emptiness of her failure and her loss became a never-ending fall into a void she couldn't escape. Without direction, without purpose, without friends…without love, who was she?
No one. A lone wolf destined to wander endless, slowly starving without the pack.
Aloy shot up from the mat, her hands trembled and her chest heaved.
A hand touched her arm but she pulled away like it stung.
"Aloy…" Tilda's voice reached out from beside her but she stood.
"Where are you going—"
"Don't follow me." Aloy paced to the door with a hunch to her shoulders, swallowing the sour taste in her mouth as she ripped the door open and swiftly escaped the cabin's stuffiness. Her heart pounded, she felt it breaking through her chest and thumping at every pulse point. Her arm outstretched to the cabin's front for support as she tried her best to breathe. Her breaths softly shuddering from between her lips as her gaze trained to the ground.
His bow heavy, his heart strong, his duty precise, his lessons everlasting. He loved her even though the sorrow weighing his gaze never let up. Being home without him was harder than she expected, but why? She'd said her final goodbyes at his grave, and felt his spirit guiding her decisions.
It was the cabin. Being here without him made all her memories rush back.
Cold air chilled the sweat on her brow, and the breeze revived her rational thoughts.
Her back to the path down she waited for the emotion to pass. A tear fell from her eye, and another waited on the cusp. She swiped it before it could fall and clenched her jaw to keep her lips from quivering.
She needed to be alone, needed to leave. She couldn't hold her tears back for long and she couldn't cry here. Not in front of Tilda.
Yeah. She had to leave, walk far into the night if she had to. She'd return in the morning.
She turned to the path resolute but froze at an ominous sight, one that shook her from within and made her hair stand.
Waiting at the foot of those stone steps, staring at her from beneath the Nora gate, that entity darker than night taking his shape. Not even the moon's light pierced its faceless façade, but the entity watched her, staring right through her.
The shadow. It finally breached the barrier of her dreams.
She blinked a couple times. It could've been her worn mind playing tricks, but the world around her changed, the air completely still. Whatever that shadow was, it didn't share his warmth, only stood in barren existence.
"Rost…" His name barely sounded from her lips.
Where had All-mother taken him? Without a soul did he suffer in fire for the death he inflicted?
She stood, feet frozen to the ground. The trees didn't rustle, the animals didn't sound, but an unsettling silence prevailed.
Fear stripped the tears from her eyes, but even dry they still burned with emotion. She moved forward a step, barely feeling the ground beneath her.
It wanted something. Only those with a message came back to disturb the living. That's what Teersa once said. Would it lead her to something if she followed, and show her what she needed to see? She had to know.
She started to it, jogging down the incline, but the shadow evaporated more with each step she took.
"No."
She rushed to reach it but it vanished in thin air, and she stopped where it stood under the Nora gate, staring at the moonlit trail beyond, surveying her surroundings for any sign of its message to her, but nothing remained.
Her brow furrowed. Next time she'd catch it.
The wind whistled past her ears and the rustle of the trees returned, her only company.
First Rost, then Varl. Who would she lose next?
She sighed gently, a weight bringing down her shoulders. This was why she kept her distance. Loss couldn't cripple her if an attachment didn't exist. Her focus couldn't afford to wane in the wrong direction, not with the fate of the world at stake. Elisabet was the only one who understood the loneliness duty brought, and the heaviness of being the only one to save it all. 'I understand why you did it. Caring for someone…it's exhausting.'
She turned to the cabin and headed up. At its foot she sat with her elbows on her knees and her back against the wall, hoping to numb any lingering emotion with a last sigh. She wouldn't cry, she was too tired.
The door opened beside her and footsteps came her way, stopping at her side. Her jaw clenched but she didn't look over.
'I told her to leave me alone.'
A gentle hand touched her cheek. She should've pulled away but the soft touch soothed her fight. The hand lifted her chin and turned her gaze to the Zenith who searched her eyes with a solemn gaze almost black in the night. A tense formed across Tilda's brow and she let go, leaving her side with a squeeze to her shoulder.
Another person who wouldn't force her to explain, good. A simple understanding passed between them and it was all they needed.
Rost, he comforted when it mattered, but kept his distance often, letting her work through her thoughts alone. Cold, yes…but his trust made her stronger.
Rost.
The huntress murmured that name in her sleep. Aloy's breaths quickened where she lay on the opposite side of the fireplace. A gruff sounded from deep in her throat more than once, space between the curled fingers of her dominant hand as though she were locked in battle, holding her bow; her brow furrowing and her limbs twitching in response to whatever adversary she fought.
Elisabet had rough nights too. Sleep didn't come easy with Zero Dawn plaguing her mind, and staying asleep became harder as her stress increased towards the end.
They couldn't stay at Elisabet's. If they did, she'd wake to an empty bedside, forced to meander her way around the ranch house, until she found the woman pacing in her basement lab, trying to iron out a kink in the code, or work through a problem. Most outcomes leading to a tired "ugh" from Elisabet, and scientific speculations from them both, until they gave up and trudged back upstairs.
At her place Lis was forced to settle. She'd wrap an arm around Lis to quiet her restless movements, kiss her softly when she woke, and stay close.
Maintaining this restraint wasn't easy. It took everything Tilda had to resist the urge to console Aloy, when watching her suffer in her sleep seemed so much worse.
She wanted to settle around Aloy and hold her until the murmurs stopped, but she couldn't. Not yet.
The loss of a parent. She understood the deep, aching loss well. After a thousand years, she still saw hers swept away in the flood, and remembered the worst nights, the many nights, she wished someone was there to hold her.