Chapter Text
3.15.3035
Snow meets her bare fingers as she braces herself for two more hoists up to the marked ledge. It’s dark and quiet when she finishes her climb, white puffs of her own breath keeping her company as she waits. There's still snow this time of year, frigid enough to keep winter furs on but warm enough for the sweat on her brow to take it’s time freezing over. Deep blue fades lighter and patience grows thinner, fingers brushing against the metal by her ear until the awaited cue comes from the east.
Sunlight peaks over the mountains beyond the Embrace, bathing a soft pink glow on the grin washing over Aloy’s face. The brilliant colors bursting through the sky go unnoticed as she sprints to the edge of the cliff, throwing her body into the air.
This is her favorite part, other than digging her spear into a machine or hitting the red eye of a Watcher. This feeling of flying, the flip in her stomach as she falls through the air, snatching onto the taut yellow line just in time. It’s the only time she doesn’t feel stuck in one place. The only time she feels free.
Aloy takes count of her hunt as she slides down the rope. Four Striders, the exact number of metal hearts Rost requested when she woke to a new trial under the light of the moon. Her feet land softly on the wooden platform, the machines below unaware of her presence.
The grin remains on her lips as she lowers into a crouch and pulls her bow, heart racing at the anticipation. She buries an arrow deep into a Striders head, quickly pulling another in time to aim it right at the yellow lens pointing her way. The machine falls to the ground, sparks flying as the Strider’s lights go out. Only three to go.
Her confidence only grows as she takes down the herd one by one, swiftly with only eight arrows lost so far. The fourth Strider gets out of range, but just to her luck it moves to the end of a second yellow rope, one that brings her down to the field of her hunt.
It’s the moment she thinks Rost will be impressed, the moment her feet are almost on the forest floor, that the blast of a Watcher hits her directly on her back. The hit is strong enough for her to ungracefully fall into the fields, tall grass giving her enough cover to dodge the charging Watcher. Aloy audibly groans in frustration, her spear pulling as Rost’s words echo in her ear.
Never let your guard down.
She slashes her spear, striking the machine’s body enough to create damage but not enough to take it down.
The hunt is never over until the parts are gathered and you are back at camp.
Her breath picks up as the red light of the last Strider comes into her peripheral vision. She stabs at the Watcher again, pulling back in time to dive away from the Strider’s charge.
Don’t underestimate the Watcher, the sooner you take them out the better your hunt will be on the herd.
Popping up from her roll, she pulls an arrow back and releases it into the red eye of the Strider. Sparks fly from the lens and Aloy grunts as the machine stays standing. There’s a moment of hesitation, a split second of debate on which machine to attack, but the Watcher makes the decision for her as its metal legs dig into her side, throwing her to the ground.
You must respect the machines, Aloy, only then will you be a great hunter.
Hand gripping her spear, Aloy lets out a hunter’s cry as she lifts it in the air, killing the Watcher that’s mid-attack over her body.
Brief relief floods her veins until an arrow zips over her head into the final stridor on the field, her heart sinking with each approaching footstep. The thought of Rost feeling the need to step into her trial is an embarrassing one, but a far better option than the smug grin she finds instead.
“It’s not every day you go out for a hunt and get a show instead!” a boy with familiar shaggy blonde hair shouts. He’s careful to keep to the Nora code, speaking only to the hunting group that begins to fill her vision, but his eyes stay on hers when he says, “I really thought the machines were about to put her out of her misery. Can barely handle a Watcher, it’s pathetic.”
“You think you can do better?” Aloy seethes, sitting up only to be pushed back down by the boy’s foot pressing into the Watcher laid across her chest.
“No-mother here dares to speak!” His mocking grin only grows as chuckles resonate through the group.
“Bast leave her alone,” a girl’s voice rings over her head and Aloy’s almost hopeful, almost believes for the first time in her life a Nora will defend her, “she isn’t worth our breath.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Bast replies with a sneer on his lips, his foot releasing the growing pressure over her body, “it’s a shame they don’t banish outcasts from the Embrace. Such a waste of sacred space.”
Her blood boils in anger but something inside her chest is too tired, too broken, to come up with a response. Aloy digs her head into the dirt, sighing as she focuses on the light pink clouds moving over her head. No matter what she does, or how skilled she gets, nothing ever convinces the Nora that she deserves to be treated better than an animal. Better than a machine.
Not yet anyways. Not until the early spring of her 18th year.
He’ll see just how ‘worthless’ I am when I win the Proving.
Footsteps grow quieter and Aloy sighs, steeling herself for the judgmental silence Rost will have at her delayed return. Most of her days with the burly man are spent quietly but some of his suppressed thoughts are louder than others, and today will be no exception.
Just as Aloy hoists the Watcher off of her body, she feels a sharp blow to the head, her ears ringing as she pulls her bow in defense. All her darting eyes find is blonde hair shaking with laughter and a rock smeared with her blood laying by her feet. Maybe it’s the memory flashing to the same grin he wore when they were younger. Maybe it’s the echoing laugh of the hunting group or the pain searing through her head that feels all too familiar. Whatever it is, it’s enough to throw away all of the patience built from Rost’s endless lessons.
In seconds an arrow is sinking into the wood of a tree just behind the boy’s blonde hair, and his look of pure fear pulls her lips into a grin.
“That’s enough Aloy,” Rost’s voice rumbles from across the field, Aloy’s bow falling to her side in frustration at the sound.
Her mouth falls into a flat line as she tries to reign in the emotions, the pure anger, that Rost always says has no benefit to a hunter. The blonde boy, Bast is what that girl called him, has that smug look on his face again as he gestures to his forehead and back to Aloy before running back to his group.
“It’s not like I was going to actually hurt him,” the scoff she has directed to the blonde boy turns to Rost’s raised eyebrow, her hands tossing up at the sight, “you saw him! He was being an ass!”
“Language.”
“He was being a butt is that better?” Aloy sticks her hands on her hips, “how is it fair that he can keep tormenting me and I’m not allowed to fight back.”
“Fairness will be earned during the Proving,” Rost looks calm as he scans the field, “we still need five Strider hearts and I expect to find them at the ridge by mid-sun today.”
“Five?” Aloy scans the field, shaking her head, “you only told me four this morning.”
“It’s not your job to question the task Aloy,” Rost looks to her with almost a smile on his face as he nods his head in conclusion, “the hunt will do you good.”
With that, the tall burly man is gone and Aloy is left alone to loot the downed machines. Her chest heaves as she waits for him to be completely out of sight before ripping apart each Strider in a fashion she’s sure Rost would not approve of.
A good hunter will never lead their hunt with anger.
This lesson is one Rost feels the need to restate often, but she leans into the emotion today. It’s certainly a better feeling than the throbbing of her forehead or the paranoia shooting through her with every rustle of a bush.
Rost is very rarely empathetic but he’s often right. Aloy tries to keep mind of that while she yanks out the fifth Strider heart and throws herself up the hand holds of the cliff leading up to their plot of land.
All Mother’s land to be exact but no one seemed to bat an eye when Rost built up their cabin by hand, and no one ever dares to enter. It doesn’t make much sense to her, showing people they don’t belong with silence rather than banishment.
Aloy comes back to an empty cabin and Rost nowhere in sight. She tosses her metal goods onto their small table with an annoyed huff before taking off into the woods. Her feet carry her to a clearing beyond the trees, rising rock replacing the dirt of the forest floor.
It’s at the very top of the rock formation where she finally rests, her fingers tracing over the scratched engravings she made when she was younger. The sun moves to the west as Aloy looks out at the mountains beyond the Embrace, wondering if Bast is right.
“Have you ever been out there?” Aloy asks without needing to turn her head, Rost’s steps unmistakable to her ears. He responds in silence unsurprisingly, passing over a damp cloth as he sits beside her.
“Thanks,” she mutters, trying not to wince at the burn as she cleans the gash on her forehead. There’s a long beat of silence after she wipes the blood away, “why are we here?”
Rost looks to her with confusion written on his face so she follows her question, “in the Embrace. Why do the Nora even let us stay if they act like we don’t belong.”
“It’s a gift,” Aloy rolls her eyes at the response she’s been given too many times.
“Yeah it sure felt like it today,” she says sarcastically, bringing the cloth back up to her head, “we could still train beyond the Embrace, maybe even find people that would actually talk to us, treat us better than dirt beneath their feet.”
“The Embrace is safe,” Rost continues, ignoring her imagination of a different life, “beyond those gates are dangers you cannot imagine.”
“I can handle it,” she fires back, “and you can teach me, just like you do here.”
“You will understand someday.”
“Why do you even want to stay?” The cloth drops from her hand, water filling in the grooves of the engravings at her feet, “doesn’t the silence eat at you? Or the fact that these all powerful, all holy, old ladies decided to outcast a newborn for reasons that – that,” she pauses, hand curling tightly into a fist until she can feel her nails digging into her palm.
“There are much worse things than not having a mother,” Aloy looks to Rost, the burn of tears pounding behind her eyes, “you know it doesn’t make sense.”
“The Matriarchs made their decision,” Rost starts and Aloy can’t bear to look at him, turning her body into the setting sun as he says the same words that always end conversations like these, “when you win the Proving, you win their respect. Train hard and you will earn that.”
“I don’t need their respect,” Aloy bites out, “I need answers.”
Rost stays quiet, offering a rare moment of affection as he rests his large hand over her shoulder. It doesn’t take many more beats of silence before his hand is gone, “rest today, tomorrow we will train again.”
It’s not the answer she’s hoping for. It never is.
She stays facing the dimming light, watching the snow haze disappear as the landscape becomes clearer, more colorful beneath the dying day. Her hands move to rest behind her, landing on the wet divots of rock. Smiling to herself, she blindly traces the grooves and watches the same shape form in the distance, a rare view of a tall thin tower shining in the falling sun’s light.
It’s a promise she makes under the orange glow of the sky, not unlike the prayers the Nora send to All Mother. A promise that the answers she seeks will be found.
A promise that there is more out there for her, something better.
A promise that someday, she’ll find it.
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3.22.3035
Drops of dew cover Aloy’s hands as she picks medicinal herbs in the early morning light. It’s another day with a new task from Rost, this one being more boring than most. Odd Grata is once again out of every resource needed to survive and according to Rost, it is their duty to help her.
She’s a strange woman, spending all of her days at the edge of the mountain praying to All Mother, only speaking to Aloy through the pleas shouted to her God. Running Grata’s errands is not one of Aloy’s favorite things to do, but she’s taken up on Rost’s request and has stopped questioning the tasks that come her way.
A boar strolls by her, picking at the grass, and she shakes her head trying to think of any way she can make this day more interesting. Aloy’s hand drops from her hip, brushing by the rock in her pocket and her eyes light up with an idea. She has all day anyways before Rost expects her back, she might as well have a little fun hunting for the twenty-five meat slabs she’s been requested to find.
Her bow and arrow stay ready in her left hand while her right tosses the rock just next to the boar, sending it running up the hill. Aloy takes off, chasing it up and over rock formations as she fires her arrows at the darting animal. She lands one, slowing the boar down as it gets closer to the edge of the Embrace.
The ground is uneven as she moves closer to the wounded animal, and she sends out a sound of victory as she buries a final arrow into the boar’s side. Slowing her pace, Aloy makes her way up to her kill in the center of the trail when a noise brings her attention up. It’s then when she notices where she is and the gaping difference of landscape in front of her.
Where she usually finds tightly shut, towering gate doors at the edge of the Northern Embrace, there is a wide- open space instead. Aloy takes slow steps forward, the view from beyond the Embrace growing with each step.
It’s beautiful, the towering snowy mountains in the distance, the overlapping hills of green below. Her body stops and wavers right at the edge, where both open doors mark the end of the Embrace. Commotion comes from the other side, four Nora guards fighting off a group of machines down the path forking to the right and Aloy watches with wide eyes, realizing nothing is here to stop her.
Her heart rate picks up, eyes darting from the group of Nora Braves, the Embrace, and back out to the inviting land glowing under the soft morning light. There’s a feeling beyond curiosity burning inside of her, something closer to fate, that moves her feet over the boundary of the Embrace as she sprints into the unknown.