Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first thing Kotallo saw when he came to was Hekarro, the Chief of the Tenakth, lying in a puddle of his own blood a few steps away from the throne. Even before Kotallo had lost consciousness the chief's large headdress had been lost, but now his top-knot had come undone so tendrils of his dark hair covered most of his face, but for his eyes: open but unseeing.  

It was the murder weapon he saw next—and it was murder. It could not be anything else. Not with the spear lodged in the chief's back.

The rage that followed was painful, crashing like thunder in Kotallo's chest. Please, he begged. This cannot be real.

The sound of war cries and clashing blades seemed far away, though there were signs of battle here. Dying flames scorched the ancient stone walls of the throne room. New holes riddled the tall columns supporting the roof, chunks of it blown off and littering the space with rubble and debris. The ropes holding the Wings of the Ten, a sacred relic that had hung suspended over the throne for as long as he could remember, looked like they might snap at any moment. Fallen soldiers peppered the room, blood pooling out of their broken bodies—rebels, members of the chief's guard, and—

His heart seized. Underneath the rubble next to the far end of the room was High Marshal Javveh, his bright blue headdress recognizable from a mile away. Next to him was Kenirra, her full-face helmet sporting a hole wide enough that Kotallo could see half of her face. The chief's colors on his fellow marshals' armors were suddenly bright as a beacon. It didn't take long to find the rest. Vintalla. Sentekka. Zekotto. Chekkatah.

His brothers and sisters in arms. Dead. All of them.

They had known that today was when the traitor Regalla and her army of rebels would attack—had known it for weeks. But they had set up the defenses months ago, since the day Hekarro had defeated her after she had challenged him to a duel to the death. The defenses would hold. Even the chief had been confident, even though they were outnumbered to begin with: Commander Atekka busy dealing with the polluted waters in the Lowlands and Commander Yarra stubbornly staying neutral, keeping the rest of the Desert Clan out of the conflict.

And then, there was Tekotteh: the commander of the Sky Clan who hardly ever left the protection of the Bulwark. So when he had pledged his assistance for this day, albeit at the last minute, they were all surprised. The additional soldiers he provided evened out the numbers. The chief had thanked Tekotteh and his soldiers and the marshals quickly adjusted their defense strategy in order to accommodate them. 

Tekotteh’s assistance was an unexpected boon, one that even Kotallo appreciated despite his personal feelings. He set his old wounds aside, confident that they would end the day victorious. There was no reason to doubt.

Searching for his fellow marshals had Kotallo sweeping his gaze across the ruined throne room from the stone floor. He found Regalla eventually. The ends of the former high marshal's braided white hair were red with her own blood, as was her teeth. She spat on the ground, staining the spot red, her murderous gaze trained towards the throne. 

Kotallo hadn't noticed him approach, but now he saw that Tekotteh had made his way over to Hekarro's body, a look of wonder on his face. 

“You snake!” Regalla said, the promise of violence making her voice quiver. But Tekotteh paid her no mind as he gripped the handle of the spear. It had pierced Hekarro deep, and Kotallo's vision darkened as Tekotteh stepped on Hekarro's back to yank the spear free. He turned around, one hand still holding the spear while the fingers of his other hand trailed along the pointed edges of the throne. 

Seeing Tekotteh on the throne was a nightmare made reality. The man sighed as he leaned back, shoulders visibly drooping as if a great weight had been lifted from him. The rage contained in Kotallo's chest flooded the rest of his body, the force of it making him tremble as he continued to lay on the ground. Whatever pain he felt from the bruises and cuts he had sustained disappeared, as did all feeling from his fingers. 

Regalla roared and slammed her fists on the ground. “The Tenakth will never accept you!”

“They will when they hear how I bested you," Tekotteh said, his mouth curling into a smirk. “How I bested you after you killed Hekarro.”

“You have no honor! A coward, through and through!” Regalla shouted and pointed a finger at him. “You are a disgrace to the Tenakth! Your charade will not last—they will see through your lies!”

Tekotteh waved his hand in the dismissive manner Kotallo was familiar with. “You stormed the Grove with your measly rebel army. The tribe already believes you’ve been driven mad by your rage.” He nodded his head at one of his soldiers and handed him his spear. “And now, no one will know the truth.” 

The soldier made his way to Regalla, holding the spear with both hands, and pressed the point against Regalla’s gut. She sneered. “You don’t even have the stones to kill me yourself.”

"I'm the chief now. I believe that means I can do whatever I want." Tekotteh signaled to his soldier with another nod of his head. 

Blood sputtered through Regalla's mouth as she stared down at the spear sticking out of her stomach. "Coward," she said, her voice already fading. With the last of her strength, she lifted her head to look at Tekotteh once more. "You will die on your knees," she gasped, "begging the Ten for your life."

She fell sideways on the ground, her head turned towards Hekarro's dead body. The soldier pulled the spear, kicking her shoulder as he did.

Kotallo shifted to get his hands under him as much as he could, ignoring the wounds he felt burning in his flesh. He managed to lift himself by a fraction, but quickly fell to the ground as a soldier stomped on his back. His chin hit the ground hard and he felt blood drip from the new wound.

“This one’s still alive, sir!”

Tekotteh’s smirk turned into a full grin as he took in the sight of Kotallo. “Ah, the Sky Clan’s mighty son,” he said and stood. He walked towards Kotallo, stepping over Hekarro’s body without a glance, and crouched by his head

Kotallo bared his teeth. “If you plan to kill me, do so now. You will regret it if you don’t.”

Tekotteh huffed and looked as if was considering the idea. “I could kill you now,” he said. “But I’m thinking Hekarro’s sword and the hero of Barren Light will make fine tributes to the Sun King.”

Understanding dawned on Kotallo. “Traitor,” he growled. “Your greed knows no bounds. Your actions will bring the end of our tribe!”

“I am saving our tribe. Not that you would understand. You always did have more brawn than brains.” Tekotteh sighed. “They’ll throw you in the Sun-Ring. But, who knows? Maybe they’ll make you a slave.”

Tekotteh stood and flexed his shoulders. “You,” he said to the soldier who had his foot on Kotallo’s back. “You will escort him to Barren Light.”

“Uh, sir, what if he tries to escape?”

“You won’t be escorting him alone ,” Tekotteh said, shaking his head. “I thought that was obvious.”

Kotallo felt the weight on his back lessen as the soldier shifted his weight. “But, sir, this is Marshal Kotallo. He’s—” 

Kotallo sprang up with a roar, throwing the soldier off his feet. His body ached and he had no weapons, but it didn’t matter. He’d kill Tekotteh with his bare hands if he had to.

He grabbed the machine plate at the front of the older man’s armor and relished in the fear he saw in his eyes before he crashed his forehead onto Tekotteh’s unprotected head, his skin splitting from the impact dealt by Kotallo’s metal headpiece.

Tekotteh's head fell backwards, but Kotallo kept his hold on him. He moved his hands to wring Tekotteh’s neck, feeling a different kind of pain that made his eyes sting. 

This man had practically raised him. Took him in, trained him, then betrayed him. Forced Kotallo away from his home, forced him from everything he knew. And when Kotallo had finally found his purpose, the pain of Tekotteh’s betrayal dulled with time, he managed to take everything away from him again. His squad. His chief.

Never again. But before Kotallo could do anything more, multiple hands were suddenly on him and a strong kick behind his knee made him fall. No, no! he thought.

Flustered and bleeding, Tekotteh pointed to one of his soldiers. “Hold out his arm!” he shouted.

“Which one, sir?”

Tekotteh roared and drew a thick sword with a curved edge strapped to his back, its weight making it clang against the ground. “It doesn’t matter!”

The soldiers stretched out his left arm as Tekotteh lifted the sword above his head, chest heaving. Kotallo struggled and pulled with all the strength he had left. But there was no getting away. There was nothing he could do but watch in horror, dread crawling up his throat.

“Hold still now,” Tekotteh said, his eyes crazed. “Unless you want to join in your fellow marshals’ fate!”

He swung the sword down on Kotallo’s arm and he screamed. He felt the tearing of his skin, the splitting of bones. The soldiers’ grip on him loosened as they all fell from the sudden release of tension. But it wasn’t a clean slice; part of Kotallo’s arm was still hanging on by a chunk of flesh.

“Hold him!” Tekotteh lifted the sword again. Kotallo didn’t stop screaming.

When it was done, the soldiers let him go, and Kotallo fell on his front.

“There, that should make it easy enough for you. He won’t be able to escape.” Kotallo heard Tekotteh say on the dregs of his consciousness. “You have nothing left to fear from him.”

Like all Tenakth, Kotallo has been a soldier all his life. He would not be able to count the number of injuries he sustained, the number of times his flesh was stitched back together, the number of bones broken and mended. He’s familiar with pain and has been trained to expect it.

But not like this. Never like this.

Kotallo's agonized cry rang through the air as he felt and smelled the burning of his flesh. They held the hot metal onto the remains of his left arm. His entire body spasmed on the cot, heedless of the hands and arms pushing him down.

“His heart will stop! You must give him dreamwillow!”

“Easy, Chaplain.”

“Your orders were to take him to Barren Light alive ! He will die at this rate!”

They pried Kotallo’s mouth open and poured dreamwillow down his throat. He slumped back into the cot, his head lolling to the side.

The world was shaking.

“Marshal,” a voice hissed in his ear. “Kotallo, get up!”

Kotallo opened his eyes as much as he could. His vision blurred, but he would recognize Dekka’s shock of white hair anywhere. “Chaplain,” he rasped as he turned his head to face her. His throat burned—no, everything burned. There was not a single part of his being that was not in terrible pain. 

When his vision cleared, he saw that Dekka had a new cut on her right cheek and her elaborate face paint was cracked near her eye that had grown due to swelling.

The humidity that made his sweat cling to his skin told Kotallo that he was still at the Grove. The familiar blue, pale gray, and yellow mural painted on the ceiling told him he was at the healers’. 

“Get up, please ,” Dekka said, still shaking him, eyes darting to the flimsy cloth swaying at the entrance of the hut. “There is no time.”

Kotallo made to move but a sharp pain in his left arm stole his breath. He reached out with his right hand to grasp his—

He gasped as his hand met air. He looked down and couldn’t stop the sob that escaped him. What remained of his left arm was wrapped in bandages, the distorted ink that traveled from his shoulder disappearing from under the stained cloth. He gasped again and his breath came out as a wheeze. He started panting.

“Kotallo, look at me. Look at me.” 

Dekka cupped the back of his head and held it so that he had no choice but to look into her eyes, grief softening the edges of her firm gaze. “We do not have time.” The grip she had on his head hardened. “I did not witness what truly became of our chief, but I am no fool.”

Kotallo held onto her arm, instead. “He murdered them,” he said. “Regalla. The chief and the marshals. Tekotteh murdered them all.”

“Blood of the Ten,” Dekka groaned and pressed her forehead against Kotallo’s. They cried together, the sound of their sobs mingling. Each breath brought a fresh wave of aches that spanned his chest and throat, and the ache in his heart would not abate. 

After what felt like eternity, Dekka pulled away, her stare hard once more despite the tears flowing from her eyes. “You must flee the Grove and gather the remaining commanders,” she said. “You must rally the Tenakth.”

Kotallo huffed a bitter laugh. “All Tenakth respect strength,” he said, voice shaking. He felt his anguish making space for something more violent. He tried to move his head away, but he was still weak from his wounds and Dekka’s grip was strong.

“Yes.”

“Then it cannot be me.”

“It must be you. You are Hekarro’s last marshal.”

“It cannot be me! I am m—” he choked and then bared his teeth. “Look at me!”

But the chaplain would not be intimidated. She grasped the side of his head with her other hand. “Listen to me, boy,” Dekka said, jerking his head sharply. “You are a marshal—a soldier of the Ten. Do not give up. For if you do so here, then all hope will be lost.” 

Her eyes turned pleading when she was met with stony silence. “Tekotteh will ruin our tribe. You must find the strength to ensure Hekarro’s legacy.”

Kotallo squeezed his eyes shut. How could Dekka ask this of him? How could she expect him to succeed? And with only one arm? A maimed marshal .

She was wrong, all hope was already lost. “There is no fight left in me,” he said, his voice softer than it had been, but no less angry. “I cannot do it.”

A lowlander Kotallo recognized suddenly appeared and walked hurriedly towards Dekka. Her name escaped him, but her reaction to the sight of him did not. Her eyes widened as she gasped and stared, her face donning a look of disgust. Kotallo’s blood boiled anew.

“Soldier. Report.”

The lowlander’s head snapped to Dekka’s direction. “Chaplain,” she said and blinked, as if willing to remember why she had come. “They’re on their way.”

Kotallo looked back at Dekka and hardened against the plea written plainly on her face. “Leave me,” he growled and closed his eyes again. He tried to slow his breathing to stave off the urge to rip something apart. 

Not with one arm, you couldn’t, he thought to himself, gritting his teeth.

“You must go,” he heard Dekka address the lowlander. “Find Atekka and report to her what happened here.”

“Will you not go with us, Chaplain?”

“No. Someone must remain here. Go and be swift.”

He heard the lowlander leave. After moments of silence, Kotallo thought he was alone and that Dekka had gone with her. Then the weight of a cold hand rested on his right shoulder. “Remember the Visions, Kotallo,” Dekka said in a soft voice that made the back of Kotallo’s eyes burn. “The Old Ones stood firm. They didn’t falter. And neither should you.”

It was then that he heard footsteps enter the hut. Kotallo looked and saw two soldiers clad in Sky Clan armor and paint armed to the teeth. One of them held a thick bundle of rope. “Chaplain,” they greeted, almost in unison.

Dekka leaned forward as if to shield Kotallo from them. “You cannot possibly think of taking him now! Not when he may still die of his wounds.”

The one with the rope shrugged. “We have our orders. You may take it up with Chief Tekotteh, if you’d like.”

Dekka’s hand tightened on his shoulder. For a moment, he thought that she would go to Tekotteh, but then her hand left him. “Very well,” she said. She cast one last look at Kotallo and stood.

She did not leave the room as the two soldiers forced Kotallo to his feet. At first they were stumped as to how to go about tying him up, but settled on pulling his right arm taut behind him before wrapping the rope around his waist multiple times so that his arm was also bound. Each movement ignited the burning pain in the stump and, soon, even his right shoulder ached.

The soldier tied the knot to his front and gave a sharp tug that made him hiss and stumble. It hurt to walk, it hurt to breathe . But Kotallo did, one wobbling foot after the other. He glanced at Dekka as he passed and noted the brightness in her eyes.

“May the Ten watch over you, Kotallo,” she said, lifting a fist to her chest. “And may they bring you back to us on swift wings.”

The soldiers pulled him out of the hut and in full view of other Tenakth. They gave another sharp tug, making Kotallo lose his balance. He fell to his knees and gasped from the pain that shot up from his stump to his neck and back. Some of the Tenakth around them gasped along with him while others jeered. Most looked away, unable to bear the sight of him. The two soldiers pulled Kotallo up by his armor and he howled.

The soldier on his left shuddered when he let go of Kotallo. “Ugh, I touched it,” he said, wiping his hands on the front of his armor. 

“Don’t be a child. It’s bad enough that we have to go all the way to the border with a cripple. Do you know how long that’s going to take us?”

Cripple. That’s what he was now. Maimed. Broken beyond repair. 

As they made their way out of the Grove, passing familiar faces who looked on in pity, disgust, or both, Kotallo almost felt thankful that his days were numbered. It didn’t matter whether he died of his wounds on the way to the Sundom or perished in the Sun-Ring. He would not have to suffer for much longer.

He glanced one last time towards the vision near the entrance, straining his ears to hear the message all Tenakth knew well. He hoped it would bring him comfort in his last hour.

Come—---soldier—of—The Ten

Chapter Text

Kotallo was still alive, much to his guards’ dismay.

The journey to Barren Light was slow going, Kotallo’s wounds and lumbering gait keeping them from moving any faster. It also kept them from effectively sneaking past the deadlier machines and so they have had to circle around to avoid them. It should have only taken the better part of a day to reach Scalding Spear from the Grove. But as it was, it had taken them almost three days just to get to the desert. A fact that his guards kept reminding him as he trailed behind them, a length of rope keeping him from lagging too far behind.

“He never said anything about keeping him alive.”

“Of course we have to keep him alive. He’s a tribute. Do you want to go to Barren Light empty-handed?”

“But we won’t be going empty-handed,” the first guard said, jerking a thumb at the large sword strapped to his back, bamboo weaves wrapped neatly around the blade. Hekarro’s sword. “And won’t the Carja be insulted if we offer them a cripple as a tribute?”

The second guard shrugged. “Eh, you know how the commander is once he’s got an idea in his head.”

“You mean the chief ?”

Kotallo growled, but that was a mistake. He hadn’t had a drink since yesterday and the movement in his throat coupled with the unrelenting heat from the sun made him cough so hard that he fell to his badly-battered knees. He felt himself tilt forward, but had no way of stopping his fall. He yelped as he fell, his wounds protesting.

“By the Ten,” one of the guards cursed. “Can you please stop falling on your face?”

“Maybe if we moved his arm to the front..?”

“Tsk, too much work.”

They hauled Kotallo up so that he was kneeling on the hot sand, the pain in his stump causing him to groan in pain. “Water,” he rasped. 

His two escorts looked at each other but the guard carrying Hekarro’s sword wagged his finger at the other. “Hey, you’re the one who said we should keep him alive.”

The other guard rolled his eyes and untied his waterskin from his waist. He unstoppered and tilted it towards Kotallo’s mouth. “I’m telling you, we should move his arm to the front. I’m tired of waiting on him and if I have to pull down his shorts one more time just so he can take a piss, I’m going to murder you.”

Kotallo tuned them out and focused on quenching his thirst. Too soon, the waterskin was taken away and he was hauled back up on his feet. It might take them another day or two to reach the Desert capital, but Kotallo would stomach the humiliation of his captivity and try to survive until then.

As the number of trees grew sparser and the humidity disappeared and made way for the dry heat, Dekka’s words played in his mind. Kotallo would not be able to gather the remaining commanders as he was. It would be almost impossible to escape his guards, dull-witted they may be. Even if Kotallo wasn’t bound as tightly as he was, there was no way he could outrun two trained and able-bodied soldiers. Not when he stumbled and fell on his face every few steps. 

So, no, it was out of the question. But he might be able to speak to Jetakka when they reach Scalding Spear. Perhaps the chaplain could speak to Yarra and perhaps she could rally the Tenakth against Tekotteh. 

Kotallo didn’t hold much hope for that to happen, not with Yarra’s previous inaction against Regalla. If things had been different and Yarra had chosen to fight with them, perhaps they could have won. If they had more soldiers, perhaps his fellow marshals and Hekarro would still be alive. Perhaps he wouldn’t have lost his arm. 

It was idle thinking, the sort of thinking that frequented his mind since the day they left the Grove. The reality was that there was nothing more he could do, but he still had to try. Someone had to put an end to Tekotteh and his treachery, even if he didn’t live to see that day. 

Kotallo’s estimation was correct: it had taken them another day to reach the capital. They didn’t have to avoid a lot of machines once they passed the Shining Wastes, except for a herd of chargers. 

He had seen Scalding Spear from a distance before, back when they drove the Carja forces from the Clan Lands and chased them all the way to Barren Light. It was difficult to miss the impossibly tall tower in the middle of the perfectly circular settlement. Surrounding the settlement, in a similarly circular manner, was a field of numerous plates that looked like the panels they sometimes harvested from Snapmaws, but faded with time and dust.

But this would be his first opportunity to see it from the inside. All of Kotallo’s assignments as a marshal brought him to the Lowlands or back to Sky Clan territory. Being from the Desert clan, Regalla was the marshal that was mostly assigned to missions here as she was the one who knew best how to deal with them.

It was past sundown when they had stepped into the settlement. The air was as cold at night as it was scorching during the day. But despite the chill, there was still a sense of warmth within the capital. The people had already lit the numerous torches around the inside of the structure, casting an orange hue that made Scalding Spear look like it was set ablaze from within. 

Their reception, however, was as icy as the tallest mountain in Sky Clan territory.

Four Desert clan soldiers approached them before they could reach the main entrance, all wielding spears and various other weapons strapped to their bodies. Kotallo looked beyond them and into the settlement. Everyone that he observed was heavily armed, looking poised to attack. Or defend, Kotallo thought. Were they expecting an incursion?

“Halt,” one of them said as all four soldiers rested the butt of their spears on the ground, giving the illusion of calm. But Kotallo knew better from the way they gripped the length of their spears. These soldiers were at the ready. “State your business.”

One of his escorts stepped forward. “We have an urgent message for your commander from the Chief,” he said. “And we would request shelter and an empty cell for this one, just for tonight.”

Kotallo kept his face carefully neutral despite the increasing heat he felt at the back of his neck as the Desert clan soldiers’ eyes fell on him in various degrees of disgust and morbid fascination. Again, he was filled with the peculiar feeling of being grateful that he didn’t have many days left and that he wouldn’t have to suffer these stares for long.

He knew the picture he made. Not only was he maimed, he was also bound and filthy. Kotallo’s eyes flickered to the spots of tan skin that peeked through the paint from where they flaked off of the faces and bodies of his escorts. The paint the Sky Clan used was ill-suited for the desert. Even though the marshals’ paint was made differently from any other clan, Kotallo knew that his own paint wasn’t faring any better. The last time he had the chance to touch up his paint was the day before the attack on the Grove.

Suddenly the four soldiers parted and revealed a much older man wearing Desert clan colors. He still looked the same as when Kotallo had first met him, and the pattern of his face paint hadn’t changed.

“I am Jetakka, chaplain of the Desert clan,” the man said, placing a palm on his chest. “You are welcome here. Please follow Rakkar,” he gestured to the soldier who spoke earlier. “He will lead you to the commander.”

Kotallo and his escorts followed the soldier, Kotallo trailing behind them once more. He wasn’t surprised when Jetakka kept pace beside him.

The clang of metal against metal and the roaring of cheers from soldiers surrounding the melee pit at the center slowly died down as they realized the arrival of new guests. A buzz of whispers took its place, some too near and too loud for Kotallo to ignore.

“So it’s true…”

“The last marshal.”

Someone in the crowd gasped. “Such a terrible wound!”

Shame bubbled in Kotallo’s chest and he turned his face away from the crowd to speak to Jetakka, instead. “Your people seem on edge,” he said to the chaplain in a low voice when they reached the winding walkway. “Is Scalding Spear expecting an attack?”

“We are the Desert clan. We are always prepared against any eventuality,” Jetakka responded, nodding to a smiling soldier who passed, until their eyes landed on Kotallo and his smile turned to a look of horror. Kotallo bared his teeth at him.

“We heard… conflicting reports on the events that transpired at the Grove. There are only two things that we know for certain: Hekarro is dead and Tekotteh is the new chief.” 

“Regalla is dead, as well.”

“Yes, we heard about her, too,” Jetakka said and eyed Kotallo with a raised brow. “Not an easy thing to do: defeating Hekkaro’s deadliest marshal.”

Kotallo deigned not to respond as they went inside the shelter on the way to the commander’s overlook. He would keep what he knew to himself until he was certain of Yarra’s allegiance.

Yarra came into view, but she was not alone. Drakka was with her, though it took a few moments for Kotallo to remember the leader of Arrowhand. They were talking in low voices, but Drakka was gesticulating wildly. In contrast, Yarra stood with her hands clasped behind her, her stance wide, her back tense and rigid straight, and her face hard and unforgiving.

The two stopped talking as soon as they were aware of their presence. Jetakka walked up to them. “Commander. Drakka. I’m sorry that we have to cut your meeting short,” he said. He raised a hand and gestured in their direction. “These soldiers have come from the Grove with an urgent message."

Drakka was staring at Kotallo, with pity or disgust he was not sure and he didn’t care. He glared at Drakka until he looked away, shaking his head. 

Drakka turned to address Yarra. "Commander," he said with a nod. "I'll come find you later to continue our talk."

"We've said all that needed to be said. You're dismissed," Yarra said, eyebrow raised. "Safe travels back to Arrowhand and strike true as the Ten."

There was silence and, for a few moments, it seemed that the younger man would object. "Strike true," he said instead through clenched teeth and walked away. He nodded to Kotallo as he passed, looking as if he wanted to say something to him but ultimately decided against it with a sigh. 

"Your names," Yarra said, addressing Kotallo's two escorts.

The one carrying Hekarro's sword stepped forward. "I am Konakk and this is Otta. We have a message for you from Chief Tekotteh."

Kotallo would've missed the way the corners of Yarra's mouth twitched if he hadn't been watching her closely. "Carry on, then," she said. "What is the message?"

"Chief Tekotteh requests your presence at the Memorial Grove. He expects you to make your way there as soon as you hear this message.”

Any amusement Kotallo could detect on Yarra's face abruptly disappeared. "Very well,” she said. “I will answer the chief's… summons." She swept her hand over the overlook. "You're welcome to our facilities, if you choose to stay the night.”

Konakk and Otta put their fists to their chests. “Thank you, Commander,” Konakk said. “We would also like to request a cell for this prisoner during our stay. We leave at first light.”

Yarra looked at Kotallo for the first time that evening, eyes searching. “I’ll have a few words with your prisoner first. Rakkar will escort him to the cells after.” She turned to address his escorts. “Dismissed.”

His escorts looked at each other. “With all due respect, Commander. This prisoner is in our care,” Konakk said.

“And we will take good care of him,” Yarra said, eyebrows raised, in a tone that brooked no argument. “Rakkar, perhaps our guests would like to test their mettle against our soldiers in the melee pit. I’m sure we can learn much from the Sky Clan.”

Konakk and Otta stayed silent as the rope was taken from them and given to Rakkar. They cast one last look at Kotallo before they were escorted out by Rakkar’s squad while he stayed behind.

Yarra started pacing when they left, her hands still clasped behind her. Kotallo shifted his weight and flexed his shoulders, twitching when it brought on pain in his stump. The slight movement caught Yarra’s attention but she said nothing when she turned back to face him.

When it seemed that no one would speak first, Jetakka cleared his throat. “So the reports are true, then. Tekotteh is the new chief.”

Yarra huffed, shaking her head. “It just had to be Tekotteh,” she said. “Were you there when it happened?”

“I was.”

“So Regalla defeated Hekarro, then was bested by Tekotteh.”

Kotallo growled. “No,” he said. “Hekarro was stabbed in the back by Tekotteh. Regalla was executed after.”

Yarra stopped pacing. She and Jetakka looked at each other, surprise and alarm evident in their faces. “That goes against our laws,” Yarra said. 

“One can only be made chief after winning in a single-combat challenge. To become chief in such a way…” Jetakka shook his head. “It does not just go against our laws, it goes against the Ten’s teachings of fighting with courage and honor.”

Yarra moved towards Kotallo. “And you saw this happen?” she asked. “You saw Tekotteh stab Hekarro in the back?”

“And that was not just a play on words?” Jetakka added.

“I—No,” Kotallo paused. “No, it is not just a play on words.”

Yarra narrowed her eyes at him. “But did you see it happen?” she asked.

Kotallo clenched his jaw and recalled what he saw that day against his wishes. Explosions on the Grove’s main entrance and on the trail on the north end signaled the rebel army’s arrival. He and the other marshals stayed in the throne room with the chief along with a number of the Chief’s Guard, ready to defend him against any attack. 

High Marshal Javveh had stationed Tekotteh and his soldiers just past the throne room overlooking the Arena. The fighting started and Regalla and a handful of her soldiers had arrived. Her soldiers were wielding the heavy ranged weapons they’d previously seen used by the Carja. 

Kotallo didn’t remember at what point during the battle that he lost consciousness. He didn’t remember seeing Tekotteh enter the throne room. Hekarro and the other marshals were already dead when he finally opened his eyes. 

He closed his eyes now in a futile attempt to block the memories of what came after. When he finally opened them, he saw that Yarra already knew his answer.

“No other witnesses, I gather?” she asked.

“No.” Kotallo snarled. “I, alone, survived.”

They fell silent, then, and Yarra resumed her pacing. Jetakka was still shaking his head, his gaze on the ground. Kotallo thought of all the ways Yarra would discount his testimony as he waited for her to speak, and prepared all the ways in which he could counter them. But what she said next dumbfounded him.

“You were Tekotteh’s right-hand man before you became a Marshal,” Yarra said, turning to face him once more. “His most prized warrior.”

“That is not relevant.”

“Your antagonistic attitude towards Tekotteh is no secret in the tribe, even if no one knows for sure what he did to merit it. So I think you’ll find that it is relevant.”

Kotallo stepped forward but was stopped by Jetakka’s firm hand on his chest. “Tekotteh is a petty, vindictive schemer,” he said, his voice a near-shout. “He’s coveted the Chiefdom from behind the Bulwark for years and now he’s murdered Hekarro.”

“So you say,” Yarra said, closing the distance, her nose nearly touching Kotallo’s. “But by all other accounts it was Regalla that bested Hekarro in single-combat, and Tekotteh bested her in turn.”

“You cannot possibly believe that!”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe. And what would you have me do?” Yara said, spreading her arms out. “Plenty of our soldiers joined Regalla and now they’re either dead, in hiding, or have joined Tekotteh. Our numbers are not what they used to be.”

“Atekka will not stand for this,” Kotallo said, his tone turned pleading. “She and the Lowland clan will rise against Tekotteh. You can join her.”

Yarra shook her head. “Even if that were true, it won’t happen for a long time yet. You know as well as I that Atekka has her hands full,” she said and shot Jetakka a look Kotallo didn’t understand. “And so do we.”

Kotallo pushed away from Jetakka’s hand, intending to move closer to Yarra, but Rakkar and his spear suddenly appeared, blocking his way. “You would stand idly by as you did when Regalla assembled her army?”

“Regalla’s grudge was with Hekarro, not me. I did not want her troops to turn on my clan—and it worked. She left the Desert clan alone. And so will Tekotteh.”

“It does not matter to you that Chief Hekarro was murdered? That a snake sits on the throne?”

Yarra sighed. She looked troubled, by what Kotallo didn’t know. “What matters to me is that the clan survives as a whole,” she said. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that happens. Even if that means playing nice with Tekotteh while I bide my time.” 

“There is no time,” Kotallo said, chest pushing against the point of Rakkar’s spear. “He won’t leave your clan be—he’s already giving tributes to the Carja!”

But Yarra wasn’t looking at him anymore. She nodded to Rakkar and he took the rope from Jetakka. “I’m sorry that this happened to you,” she said, her voice soft as she looked towards his bandaged stump. “Now, leave me. I have a journey to prepare for.”

She turned from him and walked towards Jetakka. The chaplain looked at Kotallo sadly as he was led away by Rakkar.

The settlement was quiet as they walked but still bright from the torches. The melee pit was empty and most of the soldiers had retired for the night. His escorts were nowhere in sight. 

Rakkar led Kotallo to the empty and dimly-lit cells situated beneath the signal tower. There were no cots in the cells, no chairs. Rakkar opened one of the cell doors.

“You and your escorts will be leaving at first light,” Rakkar said to him as he walked inside. “So you will be fed no meals.”

He closed the cell door and left Kotallo alone. His thoughts churning, Kotallo slowly lowered himself so that he could sit on the hard ground, but his legs shook and he landed on his tailbone with a thud. His tassets prevented him from feeling any pain, but Kotallo roared. 

He struggled against his bindings, heedless of the burning pain it caused as the rope rubbed against his skin and cut off circulation from his right arm. He slammed his back on the ground and pushed with his feet until his head hit one of the walls and gasped when his stump started to throb. 

His anger forgotten, chased away by stinging and throbbing sensations that started in his stump and echoed throughout his body, Kotallo lay on the ground. Silent, but for the whimpers that escaped him.

Barren Light was as imposing as it was when Kotallo had first laid his eyes on it. The Carja fort blocked the entire mountain pass and was made with intricate stonework, its walls and towers stretching up from the ground almost as high as the Bulwark. The setting sun cast a reddish haze on the structure, making the stones look nearly the same color as the heavy armor the Carja soldiers wear. 

Kotallo lost count of the days that passed after waking up on the floor of his cell in Scalding Spear. He barely noticed the bright greenery that was native to the Utaru’s lands when he and his escorts passed through or the derelict machines that littered the desolate expanse of No-Man’s Land. 

He didn’t know how much farther he would have to go through the Sundom to reach the Sun-Ring, but Kotallo knew he was nearing the end of his days.

They would have to cross a bridge to get to Barren Light, first. The bridge was also made of stone and far below it ran a river that seemed to stretch from beyond the walls of Barren Light. It seemed stable enough, except for the parts of the bridge in the middle where the stone had completely fallen through. To fall to his death below would be a fitting end to match the pathetic failures that marked his last day as one of Hekarro’s marshals.

“If I fall, swear to me you won’t tell anyone,” Konakk said to Otta who was taking out a large white cloth from his satchel. “Just leave me to die and tell everyone else that I was killed by Carja-scum and couldn’t get to my tags.”

Otta was silent as he tied a corner of the cloth to his spear, just under the head. Konakk punched his shoulder. “Hey, they know we’re coming. And we have that,” he said, pointing to the white cloth. “They won’t shoot us on sight, if that’s what you were worried about.”

“It’s just…” Otta glanced behind him and looked at Kotallo. “Don’t you feel…strange?”

“Strange?”

“What was the name of that Desert clan settlement? The one they abandoned?”

“Rock Point. Where are you going with this?” Konakk asked.

Otta looked and pointed a finger towards Barren Light. “They killed everyone there. They burned the people there to a crisp,” he said, voice rising. “And now we’re delivering one of ours to them.”

“We have our orders,” Konakk said, shrugging though he, too, seemed troubled. “Besides, this is a better end for him. No Tenakth would want to live the way that he would have to in the Clan Lands.”

All Tenakth respect strength, Kotallo thought bitterly, and not for the first time. Konakk was not incorrect, the rest of his life would have been a hardship; he would become a spectacle, something to be belittled. But to be sent to die in enemy lands was a far better fate than to be kept at the Grove or anywhere in the Clan Lands as a physical reminder of Tekotteh’s cruelty; he would turn Kotallo into a warning to those who would attempt to defy him.

Kotallo looked at Otta and was reminded painfully of himself. How he had followed Tekotteh blindly in his youth, seeking attention and approval from the only father-figure he had at that point in his life. He didn’t remember his own father and mother. And so the only form of parental love that he knew was Tekotteh’s twisted version of it. 

It was still a bitter pill to accept that it had taken him so long to see the truth.

Otta sighed. “Let’s just get this over with,” he said as he walked forward. 

They didn’t fall to their deaths on the river below the bridge and as they neared Barren Light, Otta raised his spear over his head. There were archers at the top of the wall, bows drawn and arrows pointed at them as they approached. The gates opened when they reached the bottom of the stairs. 

Barren Light looked unrecognizable from the inside during the day, or perhaps Kotallo was more focused on more important things when he was here years ago. The irony of the situation didn’t escape him. He first came to this place as a rising young warrior. And now he returned as a prisoner, one of the first tributes to the Sun King.

There were Carja soldiers in the familiar dark red armor and their ridiculous-looking helmets all around them and on top of the walls, arrows and spears pointing in their direction as they walked further in. 

“Now, gentlemen, is that any way to treat our guests?”

A man sporting the traditional Carja top knot walked down from the staircase to Kotallo’s right. He wore armor that was similar to the ordinary Carja soldier, but with more gold and yellow stitching on his cuirass and gloves, and gold ornamental shoulder pieces with red fringes. The man was clearly an officer.

“Are you the commander here?” Konakk said. If he was nervous or intimidated at all, he didn’t show it, to Kotallo’s surprise. 

The man reached the bottom of the staircase and walked towards them. He hummed and tilted his head and circled them slowly. Kotallo clenched his jaw and followed him with his eyes, as did Konakk and Otta, but the man remained unperturbed as he finished his circle. 

“Yes,” he said, once he was face-to-face with Konakk. “I am Commander Vezreh and I command Barren Light.” 

“We bring tributes from Chief Tekotteh of the Tenakth for the Sun King Jiran. Let these be—”

The soldiers all around stood at attention, making the metal on their armors ring throughout the space. The ones with spears hit the ground with the butt of their weapons.

“May his Luminance reveal the Sun’s desires and wisdom to us, children of the Sun, and may He walk in the Sun’s light forevermore,” the soldiers exclaimed.

The three of them could only stand in silence, shocked by the suddenness of their declaration, but Kotallo noted that Vezreh was the only Carja that did not join in nor did he stand at attention.

It took a few moments for Konakk to find his voice as Vezreh looked at him expectantly. “Let these tributes symbolize the beginning of peace between the Tenakth Clans and the Sundom.” He unstrapped Hekarro’s sword from his back and held the blade flat on his palms towards Vezreh. “We present to you the sword of the former Chief Hekarro who was defeated by our current chief, Chief Tekotteh.”

Vezreh raised his eyebrows and stared at the sword presented to him for a few moments. “The sword of a Tenakth barbarian—the sword of a Tenakth warlord,” he said, with what sounded almost like amazement. “The Sun King will be… pleased.” He then snapped his fingers to one of the soldiers to take the sword from Konakk.

Kotallo was again impressed by Konakk’s control, though one could see the tension in his jaw and shoulders.

“We also present to you Kotallo, one of Hekarro’s marshals,” Konakk continued as Otta tugged the rope. Kotallo stumbled forward but quickly found his footing. “It is he who was dubbed ‘Hero of Barren Light’ for scaling the walls and opening the gates from the east side.”

The change in Vezreh’s face was undeniable. His face lit up even before Konakk ended his sentence. He moved swiftly to stand in front of Kotallo and tilted his face with his knuckle on his chin. Kotallo moved his head away with a snarl, but then Vezreh’s hand was on his mouth, his fingers squeezing his cheeks and jaw.

“Now, now, let me look at you,” Vezreh said, his eyes wide. “I had heard you were a fearsome warrior, but I look at you now and I see that that’s not the case.”

“One-by-one, your soldiers fell at my feet,” Kotallo said, spit flying from his mouth from the way Vezreh held him. “Their blood blackens the very ground you stand upon.”

Vezreh chuckled and he looked from side-to-side to his soldiers, his laugh growing louder and louder until they joined him. It went on and on and on, their voices bouncing off the walls, and just as they thought this would continue indefinitely, their laughter slowly vanished.

“Don’t you see? We truly are the children of the Sun and blessed are we to witness its divine wisdom,” he said, a bit breathless. “For just as your victory here in the past is like the Buried Shadow’s eclipse, blocking the Sun’s light, your arrival here now is a sign that the Sun will once again bring a new dawn to the Carja.”

Vezreh released him and turned to face Konakk. “On behalf of His Radiance Jiran, 13th of the Line of Luminance, I accept your offerings,” he said and nodded to one of his soldiers.

They cut Kotallo’s bindings and a strong tingling, almost painful sensation ran up from his fingers to his shoulder. Before he could begin to stretch his arm and fingers, they clasped a thick and heavy metal around his wrist that was connected to a length of chain that they wrapped and locked around his waist. Kotallo recognized them as the same type of chains they used to drag captured Tenakth warriors over the border. Had he still had his left arm, his left wrist would have also been similarly locked against his front. 

Kotallo swallowed the bile rising in his throat. It was going to happen. He was going to be carted off to be sacrificed in the Sun-Ring. He had known this would happen, had known it for days. But the reality of it set his stomach churning and it took all of his discipline and training to keep silent and still. He would not give Vezreh and these Carja-scum the satisfaction of seeing him unravel.

When Kotallo raised his eyes, the soldiers were already ushering Konakk and Otta back out the gate. They looked back at him as the gate was closing and he could see, as plain as day, the horror and dawning realization that this was just the beginning.

They hadn’t seen the last of the Carja.

The Carja, Kotallo was disgusted to discover, had two Sun-Rings.

Vezreh had him and a new set of guards set out from Barren Light as soon as they had Kotallo chained. It did not take long for Kotallo to stumble and fall, yet again. And whenever he did, his escorts dragged him up to his feet by his hair, jeering and calling him names, snapping the band that kept his hair together the first time it happened. By the fourth time, Kotallo had a persistent headache and he tried as much as he could to get on his feet on his own, ignoring whatever pain he was feeling in his stump or anywhere in his body at that moment. 

The only good thing that came out of this was that he fell less and less as the days went by. He still stumbled, but he was getting better at catching himself before falling. His balance improved so much that by the time they reached the abandoned and largely unfinished settlement the Tenakth built in the Daunt, the only times he stumbled were because of hunger and exhaustion.

Not that it mattered. He doubted a better sense of balance would help him much in the Sun-Ring.

It was late in the day when they had arrived in Sunfall. The Tenakth had heard of it from the Carja prisoners they questioned before executing, but their descriptions paled in comparison to the actual place. It was a large fortress made of the similar stones found in Barren Light, built against natural but strangely-shaped rock. Aside from the red-tinged roofs and other decorative elements, the structure was almost the same color as its natural surroundings, making it look as if the entire thing had emerged from the rocks. Kotallo couldn’t help the awe he felt as he took it all in.

And then he saw the Sun-Ring.

When Kotallo first heard of the Sun-Ring, he thought that it sounded very similar to the Tenakth’s Arena. But as he stared below at the massive man-made enclosure constructed with stone and metal, he quickly realized the difference: it was one thing to throw yourself into close quarters with a machine in order to prove your battle prowess before your tribe and quite another to be thrown in by force. Without any means of defending yourself. In front of a bloodthirsty crowd whose idea of entertainment was to watch people suffer before dying a violent death. 

A behemoth was in the center of the ring and underneath its feet lay the body of a person whose blood was splattered all over the ground from where it was crushed. The head lay a few feet from the body, the center caved in. And all around them were cheering Carja, their elated screams like a crackling storm.

Their cheers died down when a priest in dark robes appeared on the platform. He was wearing a headpiece that covered most of his face, standing with his arms spread out, his face turned towards the sun. “O, great Sun,” he cried, his voice echoing. “Let the blood of the sacrifices of this day signify your children’s plea for forgiveness and our everlasting desire for your light!”

No, the Sun-Ring was nothing at all like the Arena at the Grove.

“You should see the one in Meridian,” one of his escorts said to him as he was led through a path of winding staircases that led to a large chamber that housed Sunfall’s cells. “It’s a lot nicer than the one here.”

When they opened the door, Kotallo saw that the cells were large, each made to hold a group of people instead of just one person. He counted four such cells, and each cell was packed to the brim with prisoners. The cells were so full that the prisoners were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, heads bowed, faces defeated. There were no windows in this chamber and a fetid smell wafted around it: the scent of sweat, dirt, blood, and piss intermingling.

“Looks like we’ll need another one pretty soon.”

Kotallo’s escorts and the guards chatted with one another as they unlocked his chains and shoved him in one of the cells. The door of the cell hit his stump as they closed it and he couldn’t do much more than gasp, grunt, and breathe through the pain. 

“This the blood-drinker?”

“Yep.”

“Let’s schedule him in for tomorrow. Haven’t had a Tenakth in a while.”

“Put him last on the roster.”

“Hope he lasts longer than the others.”

Kotallo spent that night on his feet surrounded by the sobs, whimpers, and moans of the other prisoners. Again, a part of him was glad he didn’t have to endure this for long. Tomorrow, he was going to die. 

Tomorrow had come.

They took out an aching and exhausted Kotallo out of the cell, chained him, and led him and nine other prisoners back out. It was morning and he took the opportunity to breathe in the outside air and to take in the blue sky above them. 

They took the same way they did when Kotallo was first brought in, past the statues that lined the upward path to the inner parts of Sunfall, and turned a hard left into a metal door tucked between the walls of the city and the Sun-Ring. More staircases and another metal door later, they entered a smaller chamber than the one he had stayed the night in. It held ten much smaller cells, one for each prisoner. Kotallo sat on the ground and leaned his head on the wall once they unchained and locked him in the farthest cell in the corner of the chamber.

He was awoken by the sound of screaming. He didn’t know how long after he closed his eyes that he had fallen asleep, or what time in the day it was. The screaming was coming from a female prisoner wearing clothing made with leather and metal he’d never seen the likes of before. She was in the cell nearest the stairs and she was pointing towards the cell next to his where there was a loud, persistent thumping sound.

“Quit that!” one of the guards shouted, hitting his spear onto the bars. But the thumping sound continued until it just stopped.

“You, help me with this. And someone tell the others we need a replacement!”

They dragged a man out of the cell by the ankles and Kotallo saw that he was wearing a red vest and trousers. A Carja, based on his disheveled top knot. The man’s forehead was split and blood was flowing freely from it, leaving a trail of it on the ground as he was dragged away. How the Carja could do this to one of their own, Kotallo would never understand.

Hours later, a guard clanged a spear on the bars of his cell and slid a plate of what looked like slop under the bars. "Here's your last meal, savage."

It didn't look or smell appetizing in the slightest, but Kotallo hadn't eaten since the day before they had arrived, and even then it was just a handful of trail mix. His stomach growled painfully and he crawled miserably towards the plate. 

That's when he heard it: muted, but it was the unmistakable sound of thunderous cheers. Specks of dirt flowed from the ceiling. Then the guards took out the woman who had been screaming earlier.

"Please," she begged, sitting on the floor and refusing to stand when they took her arms. "I'm a metal worker from Mainspring! I'm really good with—"

"Ah, shut it, will you? You're dying today, that's that."

She screamed and begged all the way out, dragging and kicking her feet. Sometimes an hour would pass, sometimes just a few minutes, but one-by-one they emptied the cells until Kotallo was the only prisoner left. 

"Too bad I won't get to see it," one of the guards said to him, grinning and standing in front of the doors of Kotallo’s cell with his hands on his hips. “Should make quite a show.”

The other three guards laughed, but one of them shrugged. “Eh. Nora, Banuk, Oseram, Tenakth. Barbarian blood’s all the same.”

“And what of your blood?” Kotallo growled, standing close to the guard in front of him, almost nose-to-nose if not for the metal bars separating them. “Do you claim that your Carja blood is different from ours? What of the man who killed himself? He was Carja.”

“I’m sure that guy deserved it. He wouldn’t have been here otherwise!”

“Keep telling yourself those lies if that is what helps you sleep at night,” he said in a low voice, pressing his forehead now on the bars. “But it will not be long until you find yourself in one of these—until you find yourself above with a crowd of your own people cheering for your death.”

“I—”

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the metal door above slamming against the wall. Kotallo’s stomach churned. This was it. He was going to die.

Perhaps if he closed his eyes, he could pretend he was at the Arena and that it was the Tenakth cheering. He might be able to pretend that he was participating in his Kundrat. And as he was dying, he could pretend that he had regained his honor.

Or perhaps he could pretend that Tekotteh was right. That with Kotallo’s death, no Tenakth would ever have to go through this ever again.

But then there was a sound of something heavy tumbling down the stairs and then a body came into view. A guard, but his helmet was missing and his head turned at an irregular angle. 

No one moved as they heard footsteps climbing down the stairs. 

She had hair of a color he had never before seen on a person in his life, tousled and braided away from a face that looked too young to have such a hardened expression. Red, he thought, like the scarlet stems that bloomed just outside of Scalding Spear. She wore mostly browns and grays, of animal hide and furs, except for the bright blue scarf she had wrapped around her neck. 

One of the guards leapt into action and ran at her with a sword, but she held her position as he closed in before leaping into the air at the last minute and bringing her own spear down to slam on his helmet. The guard fell and she speared him through his gut.

The other two guards rushed her next, but she ducked and brought her spear in a sideways slash to the left and then to the right, each movement slicing through the guards’ torsos. The guards were still standing, but she was not done. So fast that he almost missed it, she turned and tossed her spear into her other hand as she did, and slashed twice more and then used the momentum to turn her body and bring her spear around in two full arcs. The two guards fell dead at her feet. 

One guard left alive. But before he could draw his own sword, Kotallo reached out past the bars and wrapped his arm around his neck. He flexed and squeezed until he could grip the man with his hand on the back of his head, before snapping his neck in the other direction. The guard fell slumped against the bars. 

The woman walked up to his cell and lifted a hand that held a key. “Thanks for the assist,” she said in a clear voice. “Are you the Tenakth marshal?”

“I—yes," he said, utterly confused.

“Great.” She twisted the key into the lock and pulled open the cell door. “I handled most of them on the way down here, but they’ll be looking for you now that it’s your turn up there,” she said, nodding her head towards the ceiling. 

She turned away from him then and jogged towards the stairs. When she turned back and saw that he hadn’t moved, she raised her eyebrows at him.

“Aren't you coming?” 

Chapter Text

There were bodies slumped along the staircase as they climbed up.

“Where is your squad?” Kotallo asked as he easily kept up with the woman who had freed him. “Are they waiting for us at the top of the stairs?”

“Squad? I don’t have one.”

“But—” Kotallo glanced at another body as they passed. She had taken out these soldiers on her own? How? He studied her, then, as they continued to sprint. Their breaths coming out as pants as they went, their efforts taking a toll on them. 

She was small and lithe, which would explain her speed. But she was not wearing armor at all, just soft material of what he guessed correctly: animal hide. A woman of her size—and inadequately outfitted, at that! Or perhaps not; Lowlanders wore minimal armor, as well, and they, too, were ferocious fighters. Still, it was difficult to fathom how she could have infiltrated Sunfall and taken out all of these soldiers alone.

But now was not the time to wonder. He could ask his questions later. It was possible that there were more enemies waiting for them up top.

She reached the metal door first and grunted as she pushed with her shoulder. Kotallo laid his hand on the door just above her head to help. Together they opened the door and stepped out into the late afternoon. 

More bodies littered the ground near the door and no other soldiers were waiting to attack them. Kotallo opened his mouth to ask one of many questions he had, but the woman was already rushing back up the path to Sunfall. “Head north past that rock and keep going until you find a river. There’s a settlement across the river. Find Zo.”

“Wait,” Kotallo said as she turned away from him. “Where are you going?”

“I heard there were prisoners up there.”

“You mean to free them?”

“Well, yeah,” she said, shrugging. 

Kotallo was baffled at how unbothered this woman was, going further into enemy territory all alone. Without a squad. He reached down to draw a sword from the waist of one of the dead soldiers at their feet. “I know where they are,” he said. Regardless of how formidable a warrior she was, it was always good to go into battle with an ally to protect your six. 

It was then he remembered that he would be fighting with only one arm. There was a second where he almost rescinded his offer to assist her. This would be the first time he’d be fighting as he currently was and it was possible that he’d only be a liability. But he stayed silent, instead, and waited for her inevitable objection. It was impossible that she hadn’t seen his stump. 

But she surprised him by merely nodding and jerking her head towards the upward path. “Lead the way.”

Kotallo released the breath he realized he was holding and rolled his shoulders. “On me.”

He set out on a jog. The wind made his hair fly around his face and he was grateful that he still had his headpiece to at least keep most of the front of his hair out of his eyes. As they made their way up the path, he spotted two soldiers standing guard. Before he could ask the woman to draw her bow, two arrows whisked by him, one after the other, and hit the two soldiers squarely on the face. 

Incredible, he thought, slowing down by the open portcullis to peek around the corner. The shops were closed and there was no one in sight. They were presumably at the Sun-Ring, awaiting the arrival of a new sacrifice—his arrival. 

They were going to be sorely disappointed.

He and the woman raced up the steps towards the courtyard. He turned left but noticed that she had stopped along the railing where he had stood yesterday when he beheld the Sun-Ring for the first time. But she wasn’t looking below where the crowd was, she was looking towards the platform where the priest had stood. 

It might have been the same priest that stood there now, but he was joined this time by other Carja in red clothing and armor. Kotallo couldn’t make out any of the words. His heart was beating so hard in his chest that it thundered in his ears.

“What are you doing?” he hissed at her. “We will be captured if we delay here!”

She whipped her head around, her face unreadable, and raised her hand towards a trinket that clung to her temple. “Come on,” she said. “Four of them over there.”

There were soldiers guarding the inner gate on the way to the cells, four of them, as she said. Kotallo and the woman both crouched against the wall near the stairs with him in front. He turned back towards the woman and held up his index, middle finger, and thumb, but she just frowned and shrugged at him.

Kotallo felt the urge to slap himself. Of course she wouldn’t know the Tenakth hand signals. No matter, he would have to trust her to follow him in. 

He stood up and ran towards the nearest guard and shoved him with his good shoulder then turned on his heel and threw the sword he was holding into the other soldier’s gut. He took the spear of the soldier that he tackled, pierced his torso, and twisted. By the time Kotallo was done, the other two soldiers further in were already on the floor, blood pooling beneath them and arrows in their necks. 

“You move fast,” she said as she stepped up to him. “What was that you did with your hand earlier?”

Kotallo sneered. If he hadn’t used the spear to regain his balance earlier, he would’ve certainly fallen and she would have had to intervene. “Perhaps I’ll tell you,” he said, drawing a different sword from the dead soldier closest to him. “If we survive, that is.” 

The woman raised her eyebrows but he cut off whatever she was going to say with a jerk of his head towards the staircase at the far end of the courtyard. “The prisoners are being held down there.”

Kotallo and the woman climbed quietly down the steps as she put away her bow and took out her spear. He nodded at her when they reached another metal door, and she pulled it open.

The same fetid smell hit his nose as he took sight of the nearest soldier. He rushed at him, dodging the spear, and sliced through the torso. Kotallo turned to face the next one, but was tackled from his left. Air whooshed out of him as a blinding pain coursed through his stump. He had to get up or he was going to die. But the pain!

The woman kicked the soldier hard so that he rolled on his back, right beside Kotallo. Kotallo lifted up the sword and pierced the soldier through his face. He stood up as quickly as he could and replaced his sword with a spear and threw it with all his might at the soldier at the far end of the chamber, pinning him to the wall through his chest. 

With all the soldiers dead, Kotallo turned to look at the cells. The prisoners were all looking at them, most of them at the back were craning their necks. Their faces were a mixture of shock and horror. Some of them looked at them with hope. But most of them wore fear on their faces.

The red-haired woman swiped a set of keys from one of the fallen soldiers and started unlocking the cells and opening the doors one-by-one. But the prisoners moved away from her as she did and remained where they stood.

“We have to go,” she said and went back to the metal door and held it open. 

“But—”

“Where would we go?”

“The Carja! They’ll kill us!”

The woman let the door go and strode up to the prisoner who had spoken last, a short man wearing a wide orange belt with a large metal buckle. She reached up and grasped the front of his shirt. “Would you rather die in the Sun-Ring?”

Kotallo swept his gaze over the prisoners and took in their tattered clothing. Some of them were warriors, certainly, judging from their filthy leather armors. But most of them looked to be ordinary civilians. And they were all deathly afraid.

He stepped up to the red-haired woman and put his hand on her shoulder. She glared up at him but let him pull her away. He scanned the chamber and looked the prisoners in the eye. “If you choose to stay here, your death at the Carja’s hands is certain. But you can choose to escape. Out there—” he pointed towards the staircase. “—is your freedom; a chance to return to your homes.

Kotallo’s breath stuttered. If they survived, these people would have a chance to return to their tribes. But he didn’t have that same chance. Not while Tekotteh was chief. He swallowed the grief that threatened to engulf him. 

“So choose now,” he said. “I know what I would choose.”

He turned away from them and ran back up the stairs, the red-haired woman following close behind him. When he reached the top, however, he gasped and stopped. Carja soldiers were rushing out through the inner gate. But before they could reach the stairs, the prisoners started running out.

It was pandemonium. 

Kotallo pushed his way through the crowd and dodged spears and swords. He chanced a look behind him and saw that the red-haired woman hadn’t moved. Like a lone tree amidst a violent flood, she was standing still and staring at something past the inner gates. 

He cursed and pushed his way back. He grabbed her arm when he reached her just as she was raising her spear and pulled her to him, her eyes widening. “You are not going to die here,” he growled. “Not while I still have questions!”

She moved, then. With wide eyes she returned the grip he had on her arm and they pushed through the crowd together. They slipped through, explosions sounding overhead and behind them, blood-curdling screams all around them. But they didn’t look back. 

Kotallo followed her lead, letting her pull him to the direction she pointed at earlier: northwards, past the rock. They ran and ran until they couldn’t and they let each other go to slump behind one of the larger ones, Kotallo’s heart hammering away against his chest. The woman reached up and tapped her trinket. 

“Did they not follow us?” Kotallo said when a few minutes passed and only silence followed. His body was still vibrating with energy and he took a few breaths to calm himself.

The woman sighed and slumped back against the rock. “They’re probably busy wrangling the prisoners who couldn’t get away.” 

Kotallo thought of them now. They had been granted freedom only for it to be taken away. He hoped that at least some of them were able to escape. 

“That was not what I had in mind when we freed them,” he said, shifting slightly from his crouched position. “To use them as a distraction,” he clarified.

“It wasn’t what I had in mind, either. But I thought—” the woman paused and ran a hand through her hair. “I just thought we had more time.”

The expression she was making was familiar to him. He’d seen it on many soldiers in the past and he had no doubt that the same expression had been on his face many times, as well. He pushed down the urge to tell her that she did her best. Firstly, he didn’t know this woman. Secondly, she did not seem the type to be comforted by any platitudes offered to her by a stranger. 

But he found himself doing so, anyway. “They would not have been granted the chance at freedom, if not for you.”

She huffed and leaned her head against the rock. “That was you,” she said. “You were the one who—it was your words that—” she clicked her tongue. “You know what I mean.”

Kotallo studied her, then. Though she was still tense, none of the tension was directed at him. A bitter part of him told him that it was because she didn’t see him as a threat, but the logical part told him that it was because she had no reason to kill him after she had just risked her life to free him. It was difficult to ignore that bitter voice the past few weeks, but he won out this time. 

He could tell she was tired, could see the bone-deep exhaustion set in her shoulders. He was intimately familiar with the feeling—he was feeling it now, in fact—but now was not the time to empathize.

“Who sent you?” he asked. 

The woman dusted off her skirt as she stood up. “Let’s head to the settlement and I can tell you on the way over there,” she said. She reached out and offered her hand. “Mind you, it’s a bit of a long story.”

Kotallo stared at her hands. They were paler than his and much smaller, but calloused like his own hand. After a moment’s hesitation, he took her hand and let himself be pulled up. The top of her head barely reached his ears.

“It seems we have the time,” he said to her, raising his eyebrow. “Unless you have other pressing matters to attend to.” 

The woman looked back to where Sunfall was. She sighed after a few moments then turned back to him. “Why are the Tenakth suddenly allied with the Sun King?” she asked as she started walking. “How did that happen?”

Kotallo bristled. “I’m the one asking questions,” he said as he moved to walk along her left side. “And I will have your name, easterner.”

“Aloy”, she said, plucking ridge-wood jutting from the ground as she walked. She tilted the wood so that she was looking right down at the shaft, nodded to herself, and started peeling off the bark. “Yours?”

“Kotallo. Who s—”

“So, Kotallo, why did the chief of the Tenakth suddenly ally himself with Jiran and how does one of his marshals end up in the Sun-Ring?”

Kotallo tensed as Aloy took out a small knife strapped to her ankle. Momentarily distracted, he watched as she started chipping away at one end of the shaft, her movements clean and efficient. “The chief is dead. Another has taken his place.”

She clicked her tongue. “Well, that complicates things.”

He growled. “I apologize that the death of my chief has caused such an inconvenience to you.”

Aloy’s movements stopped and she cast a sheepish glance at him. “I’m sorry,” she said. 

Kotallo breathed in through his nose to quell the temper that was flaring within him. They stood still for several moments. The sky darkened and the moon cast a bright glow all around them. She started fidgeting after a few minutes then seemed to relax when he broke the silence.

“Who sent you?” Kotallo asked again. “And how did you know where to find me?”

She started peeling the bark off another shaft. “One of Marad’s agents told me they might take you to Sunfall. So I’ve been waiting.”

He knew that name. Had heard it from Carja soldiers’ lips. Kotallo clenched his fists and wished he hadn’t discarded the sword he picked up earlier. “You’re in league with the Carja?”

Aloy raised an eyebrow at him. “Not all Carja support the Red Raids, you know.” 

“But Marad is said to be the Sun King’s spymaster.”

“He is, and he’s just one of the many Carja who want the Red Raids to end.”

Kotallo fumed but Aloy merely shrugged. “How can you be sure he can be trusted?” he asked.

“We’ve had a few wins because of information he passed along. And like I said, that’s how I was able to find you.”

Of course he was aware that not all Carja supported the Red Raids. It was known that the Carja had been sacrificing their own even before they started branching out and raiding other tribes. It made sense that this violence gave birth to rebel forces within their tribe. But if the Sun King’s own spymaster was involved and on the side of the rebels, they might just have a fighting chance.

He ruminated on this before remembering that she had mentioned another name earlier, when she directed him to run after freeing him. Kotallo racked his brain until he found it. “This Zo. Is she the agent you spoke of?”

“Ah, no. Zo is pretty good at bandaging people up and, well,” Aloy said, nodding to him. “You’re still healing.”

Kotallo looked at his stump. The bandages desperately needed replacing, but he dreaded doing so. He hadn’t seen what the remains of his arm looked like without them. But he knew that even when the wound did eventually heal, he would forever remain a cripple. His strength and battle prowess halved, his spirit broken.

“I will never heal,” he said in a soft voice. Aloy didn’t respond and he didn’t look at her. He was tired of being looked at with pity.

They didn’t speak for a while and Kotallo soon started to hear the babble of water ahead of them. He walked faster, his thirst suddenly making itself known, until he saw the river. He knelt next to it, his knees hitting gravel, and put his face close to easily scoop water in his mouth. He hadn’t had fresh water in days and his entire body felt renewed after just a few gulps. He saw Aloy a few paces from him from his periphery, kneeling like him and refilling her waterskin. 

Kotallo leaned back on his heels and chanced a glance at the water. He froze as the light from the moon above them illuminated his face. It was bare save from the few stubborn streaks of white and dark blue paint still on his skin. 

Without thinking, he turned to the side and allowed his hair to fall around his face. It shouldn’t have mattered, plenty of people by now have seen him. It hadn’t occurred to him to hide when he was faced with his impending death. But here he was now, alive. He survived, but he was still headed to the unknown. The only Tenakth he knew to have been imprisoned by the Carja and survived to tell the tale.

Kotallo heard Aloy approach, her feet disturbing the stones beneath them. “What’s wrong?” 

“My—” he paused and held his breath. “It is nothing.”

“If it’s nothing, then why aren’t you looking at me?”

He hesitated. This easterner wouldn’t understand, unpainted as she was. He doubted that she carried a pot of paint on her. The other prisoners had some paint on their faces, but she didn’t. Regardless, it didn’t seem as though the tribes here painted themselves as much as the Tenakth do. 

Something light fell and enveloped his head, jolting Kotallo from his thoughts. He reached up and felt fabric made of thick but soft material. It was the blue scarf that Aloy had been wearing around her neck.  

“I’m not exactly sure why you’re hiding right now, but you can use that in the meantime,” she said behind him. “But I will be expecting that back. It’s, uh—special. To me, anyway.”

He suddenly realized that this woman had saved him from certain death, and now she had just shown him the first act of kindness he had received since coming to the east. The knowledge filled him simultaneously with warmth and a gaping ache that he could feel in his chest.

Kotallo bit one end of the scarf and wrapped the rest as securely as he could around his head and face but left his eyes uncovered. He stood up and turned to Aloy. She was standing with her arms crossed over her chest and was avoiding his eyes. She looked strangely vulnerable, as if she hadn’t meant to admit to the scarf’s sentimental value. 

He put his fist against his chest and nodded to her. “You have my thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she said and began to walk away from him. “The settlement’s this way.”

The settlement, Kotallo would later learn, was called the Shattered Kiln and was nothing more than a camp made almost entirely with charred wood, its sharpened tips jutting outwards. Some of the wood had animal skulls tied to it while some had torn, black cloth that flowed with the wind. 

The place was unmistakably constructed to look intimidating to outsiders. The hairs on the back of his neck stood out as soon as it came to view, but he followed Aloy across the rickety bridge regardless, and saw that there were also red streaks painted into all the wood. There were a number of watchtowers, as well, surrounding the camp. The guards that stood watch were wearing a variety of armors unfamiliar to Kotallo.

The guards stationed at the entrance eyed him suspiciously but nodded to Aloy and let them pass. “Savior,” they said in greeting. Kotallo raised his eyebrows and thought he’d heard her sigh and mutter “just Aloy” under her breath as they walked through. 

There were not many people still about when they arrived, and most of them were minding their own business. Aloy led him to a path up the small mountain of rock that was in the middle of the settlement. Only a few torches inside had been lit, but the moon was bright tonight and was more than enough to light their way.

As they neared a tent situated at the top, Kotallo heard a woman’s rich and melodious voice cut through the silence of the night with singing. The words did not immediately mean anything to him, but they were strangely familiar. When they went inside, he understood why. 

There were cots inside the tent. Most of them were empty, save one that had a young man wearing animal hide and leathers dyed in blue, lying with his eyes closed. A woman wearing similar clothing was bent over him, sobbing against his chest, and on the other side of the cot was the singing woman. 

The warm light from the single torch inside the tent made her skin glow a russet brown. She had white spots of paint arranged in a pattern on her chin, cheeks, and on the center of her forehead. Spots of white paint wrapped her right arm like a ribbon, starting from above her elbow and ending at the top of her hand. Her hair was in a simple bun but she wasn’t wearing the customary clothing of her people that was usually made with leaves and reeds. Instead, she had on a white linen shirt and a blue skirt that flowed just above her knees. 

If it weren’t for the white paint, Kotallo wouldn’t have known she was Utaru. 

He and Aloy waited in silence until she stopped singing. She glanced at them and stood to approach them, but not before laying a hand on the woman’s shoulder and whispering in her ear. 

“Zo, this is Kotallo,” Aloy said to her. “Could you take a look at him? He got beat pretty badly while he was with the Carja.”

“Of course,” Zo said and gestured to one of the cots. “Please, sit.”

“I’m going to go,” Aloy said, thumb pointing out the tent as Kotallo sat on the nearest cot. He stood immediately. “I, uh, forgot something in Sunfall.”

“But you’ve just returned,” Zo said. “You’re going back to Sunfall?” Kotallo asked at the same time.

“Alone?” he added.

Aloy turned to him. “I’ll be fine,” she said. She was walking backwards and was already halfway out the tent when she turned to Zo. “And I’ll be back again before you know it.” 

“Be care—,” Zo said but stopped when Aloy had gone. She sighed and stared at the tent flap for a moment before turning to look up at Kotallo.

She tilted her head and stared at the scarf wrapped around his head. “Do you have any wounds on your face or head that need tending to?”

He looked back at the place Aloy stood before she left. Why would she go back there alone? What was she after? 

He sighed and turned back to the Utaru. “I do not.”

“Very well. You don’t seem to have any immediate injuries, but I will need you to take off your armor to be certain.” she said, sweeping her eyes over his body. “But—” she nodded to his stump. The irrational urge to hide it from her gaze was strong. “—those bandages definitely need changing.”

Kotallo took a deep breath and nodded. He thought for a moment how he would begin doffing his armor as Zo left his side and walked to the far end of the tent. He turned his hand and bit into the blue wrapping that secured his knuckle guard. Despite the journey, it was still wrapped tightly around his hand and it took him a few minutes to undo the knot with his teeth. His vambraces were easier to remove, but he would have to take off his cuirass to get to his pauldron.

He took another deep breath and stretched his arm behind him, bending slightly at the waist to the right to reach the clasp at the back. It was difficult, perhaps even impossible, to do this without both hands. Soon, he was panting from the effort. He growled and dropped his arm. 

Zo was still at the far end of the room. When he looked up at her, she made her way to him slowly with a cloth and a basin of water. She placed the basin down on the ground and sat on the cot. “I need to change your bandages. That’s the most urgent thing. Once that’s done, we can remove the rest of your armor so that I can inspect you for any other injuries.”

Her face and voice were neutral, devoid of the pity he expected to find or hear. But her words grated on him all the same. Kotallo sat on the cot across from her, turning to the right slightly to give her better access to his stump. 

The bandages were filthy and stuck to his skin unpleasantly, dried blood falling on the floor as Zo removed them and cleaned his wound. He kept his eyes firmly on Zo’s face, almost daring her to show even a hint of disgust. She glanced at him only once, but the expression on her face did not change.

“I don’t recognize the colors you wear,” she said as she ran a wet cloth over his stump with a gentle touch. “Which clan do you hail from?”

Kotallo hadn’t had many opportunities to deal with the Utaru, even when he had become a marshal. And it was a rare thing to see an Utaru in the Clan Lands, especially far west in the Lowlands or in Sky Clan territory. 

“I did not realize that the Utaru were familiar with our colors,” he said, wincing in pain when she pressed a bit too hard at a particular spot.

She murmured an apology before setting down the cloth and began spreading a sweet-smelling salve on his stump. “Not generally, no. But I spent some time with the Tenakth. I was there at Barren Light when the gates opened.”

Kotallo raised his eyebrows. “You were?”

“Yes.”

“You were captured by the Carja?”

“No.” Zo stood up when she was done replacing the bandages and gestured for Kotallo to do the same. “Could you turn around so we can take your armor off?”

He didn’t think he had any injuries that needed tending to underneath his armor and the thought of needing assistance in taking it off burned shame in his gut. But Zo spoke before he could refuse, and he was distracted by her words as she gently pushed his body to turn. 

“I had set out to fight the Carja after a…disagreement with the Chorus. Before I knew it—yes, turn around, please—before I knew it, I had more than a dozen Utaru warriors ready to follow me into battle.” 

Zo found the clasp of his armor easily and assisted him in taking it off. Kotallo absently unclasped the small lock of his pauldron at the front of his chest. “I…remember hearing of a small squad of Utaru soldiers, but I did not realize that you had joined us in Barren Light.”

“So you were there, as well,” Zo said, lifting his arm to help him unclasp the lock by his armpit. “The Utaru don’t have soldiers. But some of us were trained by the Veterans, or trained by Utaru who were trained by them.”

“I didn't even know there were any Veterans left,” he said as he let his pauldron slide off his arm and onto the cot.

Zo inspected his back. “Just two, now,” she said, and pressed her fingers at a spot near his right shoulder. “You have some bruising. The salve will help with those. Hold still, please.”

Kotallo hummed in thought. “You did not return to Plainsong after our victory?”

Zo sighed and turned him more to the right so that she could inspect his arm. “When all the dust and blood settled, what was left of my squad returned to the Utaru plains. But I found myself…changed,” she huffed a wry laugh. “Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I found that I had not changed at all. My suffering had not ended when the Carja were defeated that day.”

“Is that why you headed east?”

“Yes,” she said, moving on to his back, near his belt. “You have a scratch here, but it isn’t deep.” 

As Zo tended to the minor injuries she found on his body, Kotallo found that he was more curious than he should have been about her. Though not Tenakth, she was at least someone from the west like him. They were both strangers in these lands. And it seemed, like him, the Red Raids had made its mark on her as well.

But she was walking away from him before he could ask her more questions. She had completed her inspection of his injuries. Kotallo suddenly realized how easily she had steered him into letting her help him with his armor. 

Zo returned to him with a bundle of clothes in her arms. “There’s a part of the river to the north where the current isn’t as strong. We use it to bathe and wash clothes,” she said, handing him the bundle. “You can leave your armor and pauldron here, in the meantime. There won’t be anyone at the river at this time of the night.”

“What is this?” he asked, nodding his head to a small pot sitting on top of the bundle. 

“Paint,” she said. “I have some more in stock, but only in white. It won’t be enough to cover your entire body, but it should be enough for your face, at least.”

“How did you know…?”

She gestured to his body. “You hardly have any paint left. I assumed that was why you covered your face.”

Kotallo stared at the pot. “You have my thanks,” he said, mouth dry.

“You’re welcome.” Zo shot him a small smile. 

He stared at her for a moment, thinking over his words and wondering how they would be received. It seemed like a silly question, considering that she was far from home and in the Sundom. But he had to know. 

“Have you found a way to…end your suffering, then? Here in the east?” 

Zo frowned. She looked behind her to the woman who was still sobbing. “No,” she said. “But the seeds of hope have been planted within me. My suffering will end, when this bloodshed does.”

Kotallo noted the way she said when and not if . 

She turned to look back at him and stared at him in a way that somewhat unnerved him. “Now, come with me.”

Kotallo followed Zo out of the tent and down the path. A breeze swept past; a welcome change from the dry heat of the desert. He wished he could pull down the scarf past his nose to breathe in the cool air, but he was still holding the bundle of clothes Zo gave him with his one arm. No matter, he’ll be able to do so in a moment.

There were fewer people outside now than when he had first arrived with Aloy, though it was still early in the night. An observation that he pointed out to Zo.

“Well, there aren’t many of us left here,” she said.

“There aren’t?”

Zo shook her head. “The only reason we settled here temporarily was so that we could intercept those being taken to Sunfall. But the Shattered Kiln is too close to the city. We could be discovered any day now.”

“You mean to relocate.”

“Yes, but I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say where.”

Kotallo nodded. He understood the need for secrecy. Though he was obviously no ally to the Carja, he was a newcomer; his reliability and motivations were still unknown to these people—still unknown even to him, now that he thought about it. 

He recalled that Aloy had alluded to a few ‘wins’ on their way here. Kotallo wondered now if her choice of words were due to modesty or if it was simply the truth. But, then, where did Zo’s certainty come from?

Though Kotallo knew that the Carja victimized people from nearly every tribe they came across, he knew that convincing leaders to order their tribe to go to open war was not an easy task. Even Hekarro had the Tenakth retreat into the clan lands, even when they had already conquered Barren Light. 

The sudden thought of his chief put a lump in his throat. But he pushed it away as he and Zo approached the two warriors guarding the northern entrance of the settlement. 

“Come find me when you’re done. I have an extra bedroll and a small tent you can use,” Zo said before she left him. 

The current here wasn’t strong, as Zo said. He placed the clothes and pot of paint at a spot where they wouldn’t get wet. He removed Aloy’s scarf from his head next and took in the calm water and the stillness of his surroundings. With only the moon for company, Kotallo realized that this was the first time in weeks that he was truly alone with his thoughts. 

Doffing his belt and tassets were much easier. His greaves and sandals came off next and then his metal headpiece. It still had taken him much longer than it normally would, but he was no longer considered ‘normal’, was he? It pained him to admit that he would have to get used to living this way for the rest of his life.

Kotallo waded into the water until it reached his waist and began scrubbing off the remnants of his old paint and weeks’ worth of grime and dust. He realized he would not be able to clean his right arm as easily as the rest of him and his temper began to flare again. How far he’d fallen.

What would the Ten have done in his situation? Kotallo scoffed, it was unlikely they would have found themselves in his situation. The visions say that their bodies were weapons for battle, a far cry from Kotallo’s own body at its current state.

And yet, Aloy had not hesitated in letting him assist her in Sunfall. He stood by the principle of having an ally guard your six, but having witnessed her skills in battle he couldn’t help but believe she would have prevailed even without him. 

Except for that moment where she had paused in the middle of the courtyard, ignoring the chaos swirling around her. What would she have done if he hadn’t pulled her away? And even when they were safely out of Sunfall, it had seemed that she wanted to go back. In fact, she did go back, after leaving him in Zo’s care. 

She should be there now. Alone, again. But what was her purpose?

Kotallo shook his head at the futility of his thoughts. He attributed his strange worries for the easterner to the fact that she had freed him from captivity. But he had other things he should be worrying about. 

He waded back to the riverbank and crouched to pick up the pot of paint. His right arm would have to go bare, but it is as Zo had said: it would be enough to at least cover his face, even if it was just with white paint. 

When he was sufficiently dry, he started to paint his face and neck. He didn’t bother painting the back of his head as he would have done in the past; he wouldn’t be able to tie his hair up anymore so there wouldn’t be any point.

The new clothes came on next and Kotallo struggled not to think about who these clothes had originally belonged to and what had happened to them. He donned the dark pants first, and then the dark top that came with a hood. Both were made with a kind of thick leather. The tassets was made of thick black fur and went on last after he had put on the leather boots that had blue linen and machine cable wrapped around them. The boots fit perfectly but the clothes fell a bit loose on his body; he must have lost more weight than he thought. 

Kotallo was maimed, inadequately painted, and clothed in strange attire. How could he call himself a Tenakth? But if he wasn’t Tenakth, then what was he now?

“Done so soon, Marshal?”

‘The agent,’ Kotallo thought as he took in the arrival of the woman who had spoken. He didn’t know how he knew. Perhaps it was in the way that she moved: graceful, silent and precise. It might have been her clothing and how it reeked of excess. But more likely it was in the way that she smiled at him. As if she knew all of his secrets. 

The woman clicked her tongue, but the expression on her face belied any disappointment. “Too bad. If I’d arrived a little earlier, I could’ve gotten a good look at Tenakth tattoos,” she said, walking closer until she was only a few feet from him. “Is it true—are you really inked everywhere?”

She moved like a stalker and Kotallo regretted, not for the first time today, that he didn’t have any weapons on him.

But Kotallo would not be intimidated. “You have me at a disadvantage,” he said as he began to circle her. 

The woman didn’t appear to have any weapons, either, but he couldn’t be certain: she could have knives hidden under her long skirt or tucked into her bodice that looked like it was made from intricately decorated machine plates. He briefly wondered if she might have something underneath the shawl she wore over her head, as well.

“Oh, I think you know who I am.” The woman linked her fingers together and tilted her head. “But I do know a bit more than you do. So, go on,” she said, smiling widely and putting her full teeth on display. “Ask me.”

He stopped in front of her, any closer and he would be looming over her. “What does the Sun King’s spymaster intend for me?”

“Nothing.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s the truth,” she said, raising her shoulders in a dainty shrug. “Marad’s purview has always been about gathering information. Or as he would say ‘listening to helpful voices’.”

“I cannot imagine that you have many in the Clan Lands, if at all.”

“Well, it is quite tricky to get past you Tenakth. But we have our ways. How else would we have known to expect your arrival?”

It hadn’t even been ten minutes, but already Kotallo was tired of this conversation. He wondered if he would ever get a straight answer from her. “Speak plainly,” he said, hardening his tone. “You sent Aloy to my location to free me. You will tell me why.”

“I didn’t send her to you. I merely…” she paused and tilted her head the other way. “...pointed her in your direction. Told her there was a Tenakth marshal headed this way and that he might need help.” 

“You would expect me to believe that she went to enemy territory—risked her life to help a stranger —because you suggested it?”

“Aloy does love to help, haven’t you noticed that about her?”

Kotallo growled. “That’s enough. If you will not answer my question, then our time here is done.”

“Oh, fine, fine, you spoilsport,” she said, rolling her eyes. “We have all the information we need: the pesky little rebellion you had to deal with, Hekarro’s death, and the rise of a new chief. Of course, I’m sure you can tell us more about this Tekotteh. But that’s not what we’re really interested in knowing.”

“You seem certain that I have the information that you’re looking for.”

“Well, yes,” she said, chuckling. “Because you’re the only one who can answer one very important question.” 

Kotallo grunted. “Go on, then. Ask me.”

A flash of genuine amusement crossed her face and widened her smile. “What we really want to know is what you plan to do with your second chance at life.”

That was not at all what he expected her to say. Besides, his life would have no importance to anyone. “Why does it matter?”

“Shouldn’t it?” She started to circle around him just as he did her earlier. “I can’t imagine that you’re happy Hekarro is dead—you served him, did you not? And now this new chief has allied himself with the Sun King. Why, he even offered you to him as a tribute.”

The woman stopped so that they were face-to-face once more, just out of his reach. “I’m even willing to bet that he’s responsible for what happened to your arm.”

Kotallo roared and clenched his fist to his side, his face and neck suddenly hot. He turned away from the woman so he didn’t have to look at her, else he throttled her. “What do you want from me?”

“We’re already losing this war,” she said, all amusement gone from her voice. Kotallo glanced at her, then. She was no longer smiling; her mouth was set in a hard line. “We can’t afford the possibility of another tribe joining this fight on the side of the enemy.”

He couldn’t help the bitter laugh that escaped him when he realized what she was asking. “You mean to unseat Tekotteh and plant a chief of your choosing?”

“Not ours,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Yours.”

Kotallo began to laugh but it quickly died when the woman stayed silent and unsmiling. He shook his head at her. The implications of what she was asking reminded him painfully of Dekka. “You are mad.”

“And you’re a marshal.”

“I stopped being a marshal when Tekotteh became chief.” The name tasted like ash in his mouth. His chest started to burn with heat. He reached out and gripped the leather there, breathing deeply. He needed to get away from this woman.

“You would turn your back on your own tribe?”

“They turned their backs on me!” 

The faces of the warriors at the Grove and the disgusted expressions they wore when they saw him after his maiming flashed in his mind. The harsh voices and the cutting words they threw his way at Scalding Spear echoed in his ears. His failure to protect his chief and, later, to avenge his death and that of the other marshals’ crushed his heart like a vice.

Tears streamed down his face and he quickly averted his gaze. “It cannot be me,” he whispered, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath, his chest expanding. He held it there as long as he could. “It cannot be me,” he repeated, loudly this time. 

He crouched to put the pot of paint on top of the pile of his armor and stood with the items in his arm. The woman remained silent as he walked past and continued to gaze forward. But as Kotallo was entering the settlement, a breeze flew past and, with it, a whisper spoken into the night.

“Then we’ve already lost.”

Chapter Text

Kotallo knew it had arrived by the rustling of leaves below him. He waited with bated breath and stayed absolutely still as it appeared, its brown-black fur emerging from the brush. It hadn’t spotted him; its snout was pressed to the ground. Good.

He adjusted his grip on his javelin and raised his hand, bringing the point close to the side of his face. He breathed in through his nose and on the exhale threw the javelin with all the force he could muster.

The wild boar squealed and blood poured from the wound. It managed to take a few steps before it fell dead on its side.

Kotallo jumped from the branch he had been crouching on and landed squarely on his feet. There was a slight burning in his thighs from staying in one position for too long, but there was no pain in his stump. Good. 

A few days had passed since he first arrived at the Shattered Kiln. Zo had lent him a bedroll and a tent for a single person, but the bedroll was softer than the rush mats Kotallo was used to and he found that he struggled to breathe inside the tent. The size of him made the space feel horribly cramped. Staying in it made him feel as if a tremendous weight had been placed on his chest that would not be removed.

He went back out and laid on the hard ground only after Zo had left the healers’ tent and retired to her own. It was no hardship, sleeping in the open was something that he was used to. But sleeping without someone keeping watch had kept him alert. He hadn’t been able to sleep that first night, though that could have also been because of the myriad of thoughts racing through his mind.

Kotallo hadn’t seen the strange woman again after their conversation, for which he was thankful. The memory of her words still scraped him raw and he just knew he would lose his temper if he saw her again so soon after. 

He never used to struggle with his emotions like this and he couldn’t even think of his usual mantra without immediately thinking of Hekarro who had taught it to him. But it was a deeply-ingrained habit and he couldn’t stop. And then he would find himself back to square one. 

The sun was already rising by the time Kotallo had returned to the settlement, the dead boar slung over his right shoulder. He entered through the east entrance and the warriors standing guard nodded to him as he passed, already used to seeing him with a kill at this hour. The young cook, however, still dropped whatever he had in his hands around him. His reaction to Kotallo bothered him, at first, but he eventually learned that that was just the cook’s way and that he was skittish even to other people. Another by-product of the Carja’s quest for bloodshed.

“Th-thank you,” the cook said after picking up the skillet off the ground. Kotallo nodded and headed toward the west exit to wash off.

He was done by the time the sun had turned the sky golden with its light and he could hear the beginnings of activity within the settlement. The clangs of metal and steel rang through the air as warriors wearing dark fur and leathers dyed in varying shades of blue or yellow trained near the path up to the healers’ tent. 

Kotallo had learned, from Zo, that they were from a tribe called the Banuk and that the armor he currently wore belonged to one. It was awkward, to say the least, to walk among them while he was wearing the armor when he wasn’t part of their tribe. It was also a gut-wrenching reminder that he was an outsider. 

He walked past them, ignoring the curious looks they always seemed to throw his way, and walked up towards the tent he knew Zo would be in. She would already be awake at this time and as he neared the tent, a feeling of dread crawled up his throat. 

Today was the day that they were finally removing the bandages from his stump. Though still tender, the wound had closed a while ago and Kotallo had resolved that he would look at it for the first time today. It should not have filled him with such trepidation. It would happen sooner or later, and eventually he would even have to touch it to clean it as he bathed, instead of letting Zo do it for him whenever she changed the bandages. But he was still irrationally nervous as he pushed the flap open.

Zo was talking to a bearded man with hair shaved short on the sides and dreadlocks pinned to the front. Kotallo had never seen him around the settlement. They were standing close to each other and he had his hand on her shoulder.

“—know Aloy. She doesn’t really do ‘should’.” 

“And she was uninjured when you saw her last?”

“Nothing serious. But I think she might have been limping a little.”

Zo was about to say or ask more but she spotted Kotallo and turned to face him, instead. She did not leave her spot nor did she pull away from the man. “Kotallo,” she said. “I didn’t expect to see you until later.”

So Aloy had survived her second incursion to Sunfall. He hadn’t seen her since she left him with Zo and he had wondered from time to time if she was still alive. He remembered that she mentioned she forgot something in the Carja city. Was she able to retrieve whatever it was, then?

“Kotallo?”

Zo and the man were looking at him. “I thought it would be best to do it this morning, in case more survivors arrive.”

Some prisoners he had helped Aloy escape had slowly made their way here. He and Zo had speculated that Aloy had something to do with that. They all recognized him and had thanked him profusely when they realized he was also here. Their gratitude was misplaced, though it was unlikely that they knew that it was Aloy who had truly helped them. 

She nodded. “You have a point,” she said, then gestured to the bearded man. “This is Varl. He’s a seeker of the Nora, like Aloy. Varl, this is Marshal Kotallo of the Tenakth.”

There was a pang in his chest at the use of the title. He was technically no longer a marshal, as Tekotteh would have chosen his own, if at all. But he wouldn’t think about that. Not now.

He pushed those thoughts away, as he often did, and honed in on Varl. Kotallo knew close to nothing about the Nora, a tribe that was as far east as the Tenakth were west. He learned through one of the warriors that stood guard at the entrances of the settlement that the Nora were a mystical tribe that isolated themselves and that only outcasts ventured out from their lands, which had explained why he had only seen one or two in the settlement.

But this was the first time he’s heard of the term ‘seeker’. And he did not know before that moment that Aloy was one.

“Well met,” he said to Varl, pressing a fist to his chest. 

Varl nodded and lifted his hand, palm out. “Hi, I’m Varl. Ah, but you already—Zo’s already told you my name,” he said, before turning back to Zo, a smile already on his face. “I guess I’ll find you later?”

Zo smiled back up at him, much more warmly than Kotallo had ever seen her smile before. “Yes. I will meet you when I’m done. We can have breakfast together.” She reached up to stroke his beard with her knuckles and raised an eyebrow at him.

Varl ducked his head and his smile took on a bashful note. He reached up to touch his beard, as well. “Right. Uhm, later, then.” They nodded to each other as Varl passed him and exited the tent.

“Have a seat,” Zo said, sweeping hand over to one of the cots. She walked to one of the storage chests as Kotallo sat, his palm suddenly clammy.

There is no need to be anxious, he told himself as Zo sat on the cot across from him. She stayed silent, hands linked on top of her lap. Kotallo knew she was waiting for his go-ahead and took the opportunity to breathe deeply a few times. 

When he was ready, Kotallo nodded to her and she began removing the bandages. He kept his eyes in front of him as she moved his stump, inspecting it one last time before wiping it with a wet cloth and then applying the same sweet-smelling salve.

They didn’t speak to each other as Zo worked, and she stayed silent when she was finished and stood up to put away the bandages, cloth, and salve. “I’ll be getting breakfast,” she said when she looked back at him. “Will you be joining us?”

“I…need a moment,” Kotallo said, his gaze still in front of him. “Do not let me delay you.”

“Alright.”

The flap of the tent swayed as Zo exited. A gust of wind flew by Kotallo and he closed his eyes as it caressed his skin, skimming his stump. It was a strange feeling and it only served to fuel his pulse. 

Kotallo looked down and the breath he was holding burst out of him in fitful gasps.

It was a ghastly thing: the bottom of his stump was misshapen, the skin curving in places. All around the bottom, and crawling up his shoulder, new skin was beginning to form. The tattoos around the area were as distorted as it was when he’d first seen it at the Grove.

He reached out to touch the space where his elbow would have been and a guttural groan came out of him when his hand met only air. He lifted his hand higher and touched a finger to the damaged skin, but he abruptly pulled his hand away and curled it into a fist. 

Kotallo leaned forward and put his face on his hand, fingers squeezing against his head. 

He didn’t know how long exactly he stayed inside the tent, but Zo was already walking back up the path with Varl when he felt calm enough to leave. Kotallo sped up and ducked under the tent that Zo had lent him before they could catch sight of him. 

It was unthinkable to him to leave it uncovered, this unsightly reminder of his failures. His eyes landed on top of Aloy’s blue scarf that she had given him, folded neatly on top of the equally neat pile of his Marshal’s armor. 

Not given, he reminded himself as he held it in his hand, thumb brushing the soft material. Aloy clearly said that she was expecting him to return this scarf. She also said that it was special and he doubted that she would appreciate it if any part of it touched his stump. 

Kotallo placed the scarf down and pulled out his belt. It took several minutes, but he was able to rip the blue linen lining the inside. He wrapped it around his stump as tightly as he could without upsetting the tender skin and tied a knot with the help of his teeth. The linen covered it completely, except for the large raised scar, its end point almost to his armpit. He found his breaths coming in easier when he was done and the racing of his heart slowed down to its normal rate, only to pick up again after a few minutes when he realized he was still inside the tent. 

He quickly rearranged his old armor back into its neat pile and returned Aloy’s scarf to its spot on top. When he exited his tent, Varl was standing a few feet away with a spear in his hand. It took a few moments for him to realize that it was, indeed, Varl. He was clean-shaven now and the absence of the beard made him look much younger. 

Varl raised his other hand in greeting as soon as he saw Kotallo. “Hey, Kotallo, right? We’re running low on blaze canisters. Want to join me? There’s a herd of grazers not too far from here.”

Kotallo eyed him. Varl’s face was open and guileless, as if his offer was genuine. But that did not make sense to him. “You will need someone who can wield a bow to hunt grazers,” he said.

Varl glanced at his linen-covered stump and Kotallo felt, again, the irrational urge to shift his body so that the stump was hidden from view. It’s covered, he thought angrily to himself. He cannot see it.

The Nora grimaced, seeming to sense Kotallo’s unease. “Okay, I’ll be honest,” he said and leaned closer. “Those Banuk are way too intense. It would be easier to get the blaze canisters from grazers—much more efficient, too, since they have four. But they said they’d rather hunt the sawtooth that likes to prowl in the west, past the behemoth. Mind you, it’s just one sawtooth. How is that going to help?”

Kotallo raised his eyebrows. “There’s a behemoth nearby?”

“Yeah, just across the—” Varl paused. He sighed and shook his head. “Not you, too. I’d do it myself but it’ll be faster with two warriors.”

One and a half , he thought morosely. But it took a moment for Kotallo to respond. 

He appreciated that Varl was honest about approaching the Banuk, first. It simply made sense. They seemed like capable warriors, based on the training regimen that he’d witnessed. But seeking challenges needlessly instead of focusing on a task that would help the group as a whole did not make sense. Still, there were other warriors who would be better suited to the task. 

“You are correct in your assessment that grazers are the smarter choice, even though they pose less of a challenge. But I was also correct in saying that you will need someone who can wield a bow,” he finally said.

“You hunted that boar this morning, right?”

“Yes.”

“Traps?”

Kotallo shook his head. “Javelin.”

“Got any more?”

Varl was staring at him expectantly, eyebrows raised. Kotallo sighed and ducked back inside the tent to fetch them and one of the spare spears he’d been given. Varl was smiling when he came back out. “Great,” he said. “We’re hunting the herd to the north. There’s some past the river to the south, but that’s too close to Sunfall.”

Kotallo nodded. “Lead on.” 

He followed Varl to the north exit of the settlement. The sun was high above them and sweat was forming on his forehead and gathering at his nape. Kotallo wished he could tie his hair back as he was used to. You’re incapable of doing even the simplest things now, he couldn’t help but think to himself.

But his thoughts strayed inexplicably to Aloy. More precisely, about the way she had accepted his offer to assist her in Sunfall. And now Varl had invited him to go hunting with him. Were all Nora as accepting as these two were? Were they not put-off by cripples such as him?

Varl waved to the Banuk that watched them as they passed, and shot them a friendly smile. They just stared at him, did not smile nor wave back, but that didn’t seem to bother the Nora at all. Kotallo took the opportunity to study him as they walked. He could sense that Varl was a trained warrior, even with the leather tunic and bracers hiding most of his bulk. But his overall manner was perplexing. 

The Tenakth were not as serious as the eastern tribes seemed to believe. They knew how to joke amongst themselves and they took part in a variety of activities that strengthened the camaraderie within a squad or tribe. These generally happened with people that you knew and trusted. But based on Kotallo’s brief interaction with him and how Varl waved to the stoic warriors, he seemed cordial to everyone regardless of their tribe, even to those that were aloof to him. 

“We’ll be getting those blaze canisters for you,” Varl said to the warriors guarding the north exit. He still had on that perplexing smile of his. 

One of them nodded to them, a man wearing a red vest over a light blue shirt. “May the Sun light your—”

“Hold your tongue, Carja filth!”

Kotallo reached behind him for his spear but stopped when Varl pressed a hand on the other guard’s chest, a Banuk warrior that was taller and bigger than the Carja guard. 

“Hey, now, no need to make a fuss,” Varl said, his voice calm but firm. The Banuk was taller than him, too, but Varl was unfazed. 

The Carja guard had his spear at the ready, pointed at the Banuk. The tense moment stretched on: Varl’s hand still on the Banuk’s chest, Kotallo’s own hovering behind him to easily reach his spear. 

Just as he thought a fight would break out, the Banuk stepped back. “If I have to hear about the sun one more time…” he grumbled as he faced away from them. 

They all relaxed and Varl nodded again to the Carja as they both exited the settlement. They walked for a few minutes, but a heavy feeling settled in Kotallo’s stomach as he glanced back at the settlement, towards the two guards.

“It does not seem wise to leave them be,” he said to Varl when they were further away. “My instinct tells me that the matter is not as settled as we’d like to think.”

Varl sighed and slowed so that Kotallo was walking next to him. “I know. But we need to get those canisters. Besides, there’s not a lot we can do when there’s so few of us who can be level-headed and neutral.”

Kotallo scoffed. The idea bewildered and insulted him at the same time. “To be neutral towards the Carja is inconceivable.”

“I don’t see you picking fights with the Carja—the ones that escaped, that is.”

The face of the Carja man that had killed himself in the cell next to his underneath the Sun-Ring flashed in his mind. The persistent thumping on the walls, choosing to end his life rather than be trampled by a machine. The blood on his forehead as the guards dragged him away by his feet. The guard who had taunted Kotallo and said that the man—his fellow Carja—deserved to be sacrificed.

Kotallo sighed. “Not all Carja support the Red Raids,” he said, echoing the words Aloy had spoken to him. 

“Wish everyone else understood that,” Varl said, sighing as well. He jerked his head toward an upward path. “Herd’s this way. It’s just a bit of a hike.”

They did not have to travel long to find the grazers. They were six of them, a little spread out, their noses pressed against grass. He and Varl were crouched together in the brush. Kotallo turned to Varl, pointed to himself then pointed to the nearest grazer to their right. Then he pointed to Varl then pointed to the grazer to their left. 

Varl seemed to understand. He gave a sharp nod and began moving his way up to his assigned machine. Kotallo did the same. It did not take long for either of them to dispatch the two, thrusting the point of their spears on the grazers’ bodies past their outer casings. A sharp twist when they fell ensured they stayed down. 

Another set of grazers approached the fallen ones and they dealt with them the same way. They handled the rest similarly without issue. It was almost supper by the time Varl and Kotallo were finished looting the beasts, taking more than just the blaze canisters they had initially set out for.

On their way down, Kotallo spotted the lone behemoth in the distance. He had the fleeting thought that he had never faced one before. The only spot he knew they lurked in the west was in the Stillsands, and there had never been a reason for any of the marshals to go there. And even if there were, it was generally wiser to avoid machines than it was to seek them out.

But he couldn’t shake his curiosity. What would be the limit to fighting machines with only one arm? Grazers were one thing, but could he possibly take on a behemoth alone? Would it be wise to test his mettle against one, in case he ever found himself in the Sun-Ring?

“We didn’t need to use my bow, after all, or your javelins.”

Kotallo hummed, his thoughts of the behemoth vanishing. Varl had begun making small talk while looting the grazers earlier. There really was something about fighting or hunting together that made warriors more comfortable with each other.

“That’s pretty smart, using hand signals to communicate,” Varl said to him as they made their way down. “Do all Tenakth use them?”

A small surge of pride swelled in Kotallo’s chest. “Yes. We’re taught the hand signals as soon as we begin our training,” he said. “Do the Nora have something similar?”

“Uh, no.”

“Then how do your soldiers communicate on the battlefield?”

Varl shrugged. “We’d just whisper to each other, or have a plan before heading into battle.” He huffed. “Those hand signals would’ve come in handy when…” he broke off with a sigh, the sound full of weight. “Well, it would’ve come in handy, but I doubt it would have changed anything.”

They fell silent for a moment, their walk taking on a gloomy air that contrasted with the brightness of their surroundings. But it seemed that Varl would not permit his spirit to be dampened for long. 

“Why do you paint your face white?” he asked, then backtracked with wide eyes. “Uh, I hope it’s not rude to ask. You’re the first Tenakth I’ve met so I don’t know much about your tribe…or what questions are considered offensive—maybe, just forget I asked?”

“At ease. Your question does not offend me,” Kotallo said to him, suddenly feeling wistful as he adjusted his hold on the satchel slung over his shoulder. 

He thought for a moment, never having the opportunity before to explain what his people’s paint meant. “The Tenakth paint their faces for a variety of reasons: to signify their expertise, to celebrate a decisive victory, or to honor a respected soldier. There is…usually a pattern drawn over the base paint. It’s drawn with different colors depending on your clan of birth.”

“But you only have white paint with you?”

“Zo was kind enough to provide me a pot of it when I first arrived.”

Varl hummed. “Can I ask what pattern you drew on your face before? Does it change depending on the day?”

“Soldiers can change the pattern, but it is mostly done for a significant reason. Mine was…” he trailed off, the wistful feeling slowly morphing into grief. Kotallo forced himself to ignore it. “Mine was a design of my own: made to look like a ravager’s maw.”

“Why a ravager?”

“I defeated a ravager at the Kulrut,” he said. Varl tilted his head and Kotallo thought about how to explain. “It is a trial-by-combat soldiers had to win to be promoted to Marshal.”

His grief was almost palpable now; it was becoming harder to ignore the more he talked about his tribe or hints about what his life was like before… Before . 

Kotallo jerked his head towards the bright blue painted on the right side of Varl’s face, feeling desperate to veer the topic away from himself. “Do Nora paints signify something similar?”

Varl reached out and touched the paint, as if only now remembering that it was there. “Something like that. Our braves wear Nora blue to mark the status of a skilled warrior,” he said, shrugging and gesturing to himself in what felt like a self-deprecating way. “The design is whatever is favored by one’s family.”

“You call your soldiers ‘braves’?”

Varl nodded.

“And your paint does not mark your position as ‘Seeker’?”

“Ah, no, but this one does,” Varl said, pointing to the large hide drum resting on the left side of his chest. It had a symbol that Kotallo didn’t recognize: it had five outward loops of varying sizes, connected to each other to form a five-edged shape in the middle. 

“I do not remember seeing this symbol on Aloy,” Kotallo said, conjuring the memory of seeing her and studying her clothes and thinking how inadequate they seemed to be for battle. “And she does not wear paint like you or the other Nora that I’ve seen do. Can one become a seeker without first becoming a brave?”

Varl grimaced and pursed his lips. “That’s, uh, a bit complicated.” 

Kotallo frowned. He could not see how it could be. But, then again, he was still learning about the eastern tribes and their idiosyncrasies. He could sense that it was an uncomfortable topic for Varl, though, so he opted to drop it. 

And, again, it seemed that Varl was eager to do the same. But whereas Kotallo was content to let the subject lie, Varl seemed to want to fill the silence with conversation. “I suppose someone could become a seeker without becoming a brave, but I don’t think it’s ever been done before. We’re taught of the dangers outside of the Sacred Lands, so it just makes sense that only warriors become seekers.”

“Like Aloy and yourself,” he said, nodding in understanding. “That’s why you were chosen to be seeker.”

“Uh, not chosen. Well, I volunteered,” Varl said, tilting his head. “I guess Aloy must have, too.”

Kotallo glanced at him in surprise. “You and Aloy willingly left your tribe?”

Varl fidgeted with the leather strapped across his torso. “Aloy has her reasons. As for me, I convinced the Matriarchs—our leaders—that she would need help, even if she didn’t want it,” he muttered towards the end. “So they made me one, too. But if I’m being honest…”

He waited for Varl to speak. Kotallo could not imagine leaving the Clan Lands. He was here in the east now, but definitely not by choice. There would have been no reason for him to journey here, especially not when Hekarro ordered the Tenakth to retreat. 

“The Sacred Lands is…vast,” Varl finally said. “But it’s also small. I don’t know if I can explain it right. I just knew I had to leave.”

“Why is that?”

“I felt like I wouldn’t find myself or find out what I was truly capable of if I’d stayed. It’s difficult to do that when everyone around you has preconceived notions about you. And I’m glad I did leave. I wouldn’t have met Zo, otherwise.”

Kotallo nodded. “She is your mate.”

Varl’s eyes widened and a few unintelligible sounds left his mouth before he could form some of the words he wanted to say. “We haven’t really discussed—uh, but I want to—I just don’t—”

Kotallo raised his fingers as he couldn’t completely let go of the satchel. “At ease,” he said again. “You do not need to explain to me.” 

Varl chuckled nervously. “Thanks,” he said, then swiftly shifted the topic back to Kotallo, much to his dismay. “So what colors did you use for your pattern?”

“The marshals paint themselves using the chief’s colors: white and blue; a deeper blue than yours, but equally bright,” he said, remembering the faces of his fellow marshals and the patterns on their faces. He could still see them clearly, could still remember the meanings behind them. Just as Kotallo thought that grief would engulf him fully, an unbidden memory flashed in his mind: a bittersweet one that he could look back on with fondness. 

“What’s funny?” Varl asked.

He hadn’t realized he’d been smiling. “Becoming a marshal was…not what I had intended for my life. I was dealing with bitter feelings when I was first promoted, and used a much darker blue than what marshals use. It was so dark, it was almost black when freshly applied.”

How rebellious he was, then; how young. The youngest of the marshals, acting out. It was no wonder Javveh had been so hard on him, in the beginning. Kotallo fell in line, soon enough. 

But he kept the darker paint, anyway.

“You must miss them,” Varl said, cutting through his thoughts. “Your tribe, I mean.”

He nodded. “Yes,” he said. But that was not entirely true. It was not his tribe that he missed, but his squad. Though the word ‘missing’ seemed to be woefully inadequate for the massive hole their deaths have left on his life.

Kotallo would never see them again. He would never again feel Zekotto’s heavy arm on his shoulders, or see the scowl on Vintalla’s face when she lost in a game of Strike. He would never taste Sentekka’s hearty fireclaw stew again, or share a comfortable silence with Kenirra. He would never again have to suffer Chekkatah’s whining about missing his mate, or hear Javveh’s gruff voice barking his orders as they trained.

He would never again bask in Hekarro’s presence.

Kotallo wondered if this grief would ever go away. Or would it always feel like an all-encompassing wave that threatened to pull him down every time? 

The rest of the trip back to the settlement was spent in silence, Kotallo lost again in his own thoughts. Varl seemed to sense this because he didn’t make any attempts to make conversation again. Or perhaps he was also lost in his own thoughts. 

But the silence was soon broken as they neared the settlement and a heart-wrenching wail rang through the air. 

They broke out into a run, heedless of the clanging of the canisters in their satchels. They could see the crowd that had formed right by the north exit, a crowd made mostly of Banuk. Kotallo and Varl pushed past them and saw that they had gathered around Zo and a boy, no more than ten, who was slumped over the bleeding body of a man lying face-first onto the ground. 

Kotallo recognized him immediately: it was the Carja guard from earlier.

He suddenly realized that it wasn’t just the Banuk that had gathered. People from the different tribes who had come here were all gathered, including some enraged Carja.

“Hishim only wanted to protect his brother!”

“We won’t stand for this!”

“That barbarian should stand trial!”

“He will stand trial according to our laws,” a man with a large headdress with long ribbons responded in a loud voice. Kotallo had seen him around the camp and had wondered about the blue machine cables stitched into his skin. 

The man turned to the Banuk guard who was scowling and kneeling on the ground with fists clenched on his lap. “Tarit, by committing murder, you have broken the oath we took to keep the peace during our stay. And for the good of the rest of the werak, we must cast you out.” The man took a deep breath. “You are hereby exiled.”

“Exiled? That’s it?”

“He killed one of ours, and you’re just going to exile him?”

Tarit roared and slammed a fist on the ground, silencing the crowd. “Death to the Carja! Death to you Sun-loving degenerates!”

The shouting grew louder and the circle the crowd formed grew tighter, bodies pushing towards the center. Kotallo moved closer to Zo and the boy, keeping an eye on Tarit while Varl tried to placate the Carja. But his voice was drowned out by their shouts, the crowd’s individual voices lost and instead merging into an unintelligible cacophony. 

But then Tarit moved and Kotallo saw it before anyone else could realize what he intended to do. 

He took out a knife from inside his boot and lunged forwards past the Banuk shaman, past Varl. “Death to the Carja!” he shouted again, knife pointed towards the boy.

Kotallo shoved him before he could get to the boy and immediately regretted it. He had used his left shoulder, and though impacts to his stump were far less painful than before, it still hurt. Kotallo wrested the knife from Tarit’s hands as he fell with a grunt.

Tarit yelled and immediately moved to stand up, but there were hands suddenly around him holding him back. The edge of a blade glinted near his head.

“Wait, don’t—”

But it was too late. They let him go, and Tarit fell face down near Hishim, his blood soaking the already reddened ground on which they stood. The boy screamed. The shouting began again and was even louder than it had been.

Kotallo stared hopelessly at the two bodies on the ground. One Carja, one Banuk. Their deaths had been unnecessary. 

This was a lawless land. Kotallo had no power here. 

Peacekeeper. That was what a marshal was. Yes, marshals were also enforcers of the chief’s will but Hekarro’s will had always been peace between the clans. It was very rare that a marshal would have to draw their blade in order to settle disputes, more often they had to rely on their insights, investigation, and negotiation skills. And more often than not, a marshal’s judgment was respected within the Clan Lands.

But this was not the Clan Lands. Not only that, but he was also a cripple. Kotallo had no respect or power here. And so it was that he was struck dumb by the death of the Banuk, Tarit, by the hands of the spiteful Carja, mostly leaving Varl to resolve the conflict while he stood guard over Zo and the boy. 

It was a blur in Kotallo’s mind and he didn’t remember how exactly the situation was resolved. But as he said to Varl that afternoon, such matters were not so easily settled. It would not be long before another fight broke out, whether it was between the Banuk and the Carja, or the Oseram and the Carja. 

There had been no dinner for anyone that night. The Carja cook had retired early and hid away in his tent. The rest of them had to make do with whatever leftovers they managed to tuck away or hunt for their own food. 

That was how he found himself munching on dried meat with Varl beside him. They were outside the healers’ tent, sitting on the ground beside a small campfire. They were both silent as they ate, too exhausted to fill the silence with talk. 

“Hey,” Varl said from beside him. 

Kotallo looked up and saw that Zo was walking toward them, grasping her arms, eyes downcast. She sat down next to Varl and he immediately put an arm over her shoulder. “How is he?”

“He’s an eight-year-old boy who just lost the only family he had,” Zo said, placing a hand on Varl’s. She shook her head and sighed. “He is as distraught as anyone would be.”

“No other family,” Varl repeated. “Did any of the Carja—”

Zo scoffed. “No. None of them came to him. You would think that at least one would after that display, but it seems their indignation only goes so far.” 

“What will happen to him?” Kotallo asked, thinking of his own childhood. 

“We’ll obviously take him with us when we relocate,” Varl said, looking to Zo who nodded. “Beyond that, I don’t know.”

Kotallo had been younger, perhaps five-years-old, and an only child when his parents had died in a clan skirmish, but his tale was a common one among the Tenakth. And like all orphans, he was raised by his squad. Growing up, he never felt alone nor neglected. But it seemed that this was not a common practice here in the east. 

So what happened to the children orphaned by the Red Raids? He was sure that the boy who had just lost his brother was not the only one, nor would he be the last. Would they all wander aimlessly with no one to care for them or train them?

His thoughts trailed off when Zo stood up. “It has been a hard day,” she said. “I’ll bid you goodnight for now.”

“I’ll be right in,” Varl said. Zo nodded and they watched her walk away.

When she was gone, Varl took out his satchel and rummaged inside. Kotallo looked on curiously. “Our talk earlier reminded me that—ah, here it is,” Varl said and held out a small pot, similar in appearance to the one Zo had given Kotallo.

He held his breath as he took the pot from Varl and laid it down in front of him. He uncovered it and saw paint. 

“Nora blue,” he breathed.

Varl scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, I know it’s a lot brighter than the color you described, but I thought—well, it’s not easy to be far from home.”

Kotallo stared at him and Varl seemed to misread him. He held up a hand. “No pressure, though. I just thought you might—”

“You have my thanks,” Kotallo interrupted him. “Truly, this is… this is appreciated.”

Varl beamed at him. “You’re welcome,” he said and stood up. “I’m going to head to bed, too. See you in the morning?”

“Yes. Rest well and rise with the Ten,” he said out of habit. 

“I’m going to ask you about that tomorrow—about rising with the Ten. I’ve never heard that before.”

Kotallo nodded. “It would be an honor to share their teachings with you.”

Varl bade him goodnight and walked off in Zo’s direction, and as he did Kotallo couldn’t help but stare at the pot and think about this gesture of kindness and the words that he spoke. Did Varl show him kindness because, like him, Kotallo was also far from home? And then there was Aloy who had lent him her scarf even though she said it was precious to her. It did not seem to matter to them that he was a stranger from a different tribe. It did not seem to matter to them that he was a cripple.

Easterners were odd, he thought. But Zo was an Utaru. She, too, was from the west. And yet, she, too, showed him the same kindness on his first night here. But what did that mean? Why did it feel so different from what he was used to?

The Tenakth looked out for each other. They shared rations readily with a squadmate in need and were quick to assist one another. It was similar, he supposed. But there was a large difference that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. What was it?

Ah, but why did it matter? It would be a long time before he could set foot in the Clan Lands again, if at all. Maybe not ever. He did not even need to paint his face anymore. No one here would know or notice the difference. Perhaps Varl, since he’s told him a little about their culture. Definitely Zo, since she was trained by veterans. But to everyone else, he would be just another victim of the Red Raids. 

Kotallo stared at the pot of Nora blue paint and thought this to himself again and again in different variations. There would be no point. There would be no point. But who was he fooling? Certainly not himself. How could he ever stop being Tenakth? 

He dipped his finger into the pot, coating it in paint, and tilted his head back so that his hair fell back and out of his face. He didn’t need to see his reflection for this, not when he’s been wearing this pattern since he became a marshal. The thought that he didn’t deserve it anymore crossed his mind. But he had won no battles since coming here nor could he consider himself a deadly fighter anymore. All he had left to his name was that he used to be a marshal. So the pattern would stay. For now.

Kotallo closed his eyes as he traced the familiar pattern over his forehead, dragging his finger down to the center. The pattern normally reached all around the back of his head, but he would have to find a way to shave the sides of his head first. As it was, he ended the pattern on his temples. He dipped his finger in the pot again and drew the jagged pattern over his jaw and his chin. 

He knew the color was wrong, but he still felt a little more like himself since crossing the border. A sort of relief came with the knowledge that his face was fully painted, even if his body wasn’t. That his face was presentable, at last, after days of just wearing white paint and, before that, his flaked off old paint.

By the time that he was done, the campfire burned low. Kotallo let it go out until eventually his surroundings were shrouded in darkness. The moon had not come out from behind the clouds that night and the only lights were from the few torches the guards had lit near the entrances.

Like most nights, his thoughts raced and he knew it would be a while before sleep would take him. Besides, his paint still needed to dry. He stood up, then, and resigned himself to walk around the settlement as he had been wont to do when his body was exhausted, but his mind was too awake. 

Varl and the others had ensured that no Carja would be partnered with a warrior from a different tribe to guard any of the exits on any of the shifts. It seemed backwards to Kotallo, though, that the wronged tribe would be isolated. It was as if they were the ones being punished when it was one of theirs that was murdered.

Kotallo huffed. How ridiculous it was that he was feeling sorry for the Carja now. He had to remember that they murdered someone, too. Even though Tarit wasn’t innocent, judgment had been passed and it would have been the right thing to just accept it.

They acted as if exile was a light sentence. But Kotallo knew how difficult it was to suddenly be cast out and forced to survive alone, forsaken by your own people.

Kotallo clicked his tongue. Whatever good mood he had earlier was quickly vanishing. Train the—, no he couldn’t think about that, either. 

He walked towards the area where the Banuk were training this morning and picked up one of the training spears lying around. He started pacing, rotating his wrist as he did and swinging his arm so that the spear looked like it was whipping around his body. He let his muscle memory do most of the work and let his mind wander into a trance. 

But the swirling of the spear in his hand reminded him of the maneuver that he witnessed Aloy do underneath the Sun-Ring when she had freed him. Kotallo did not usually employ any flashy maneuvers when fighting, but it was an impressive move and, from what he’d seen, it proved effective against multiple opponents. Aloy had used two hands to do it, shifting her spear from one hand to the other, but he wondered if…?

Kotallo stopped his movements and tried to picture that moment in his mind. He brought up the spear and slashed to the left, then to the right—just light movements; he was mostly using just his wrist.

Aloy had stepped forward every time she swung her spear and so he did it now: left foot forward, slash to the left; right foot forward, slash to the right. He repeated those movements again and again, committing them to memory. 

Left foot forward, slash to the left; right foot forward, slash to the right—but how did she turn? Ah, he was probably overthinking it. 

Kotallo let his instincts take over and on the second slash to the right he shifted his weight and pushed so that his body turned, pivoting on his heels. But the momentum was not enough to do another full arc and he skidded to a stop, kicking up dirt and dust as he did. 

He sighed and straightened. The move was impossible to do. He wouldn’t be able to build the proper speed needed in order to complete the second arc with only one arm. It would be pointless to try the maneuver again. He wasn’t even sure why he attempted it in the first place.

Kotallo started to pace again, but before he could start rotating his wrists to do the swirling move he was doing earlier, a voice spoke from behind him.

“Keep going.”

It was Aloy, standing behind him with her hands on her hips, highlighting the distinctly Carja-looking armor she wore that displayed her muscled stomach. “Keep going, you almost had it.”

Kotallo scoffed, but when he looked at her face he saw that she was being serious. “I cannot make the two arcs.”

“No one’s going to get it on their first try. It just takes practice.”

“It is impossible with only one arm,” he said, his voice low and his face burning hot. He did not mean for anyone to see him trying out maneuvers. This was why he only did this in the middle of the night, so that he didn’t make an even bigger fool of himself by training.

“But that’s a Nora move, isn’t it? It’s meant to be done one-handed.”

“You did this maneuver with two hands.”

Aloy raised her eyebrows. “I don’t remember showing you that,” she said, but then waved her hand. “That’s not the point. I have to do it with two hands. But the original move is meant to be done one-handed.”

“But—”

She raised her hand to interrupt him. “The second swing has to be lower at a slightly downward angle so that you turn easily for the first one, and on the second one you—” she reached out towards his left knee, but quickly pulled her hand back. Her eyes wide, as if suddenly remembering herself. “—uh bring that knee lower to the ground and use your other leg to push.”

Aloy looked at him expectantly, but Kotallo’s mind was still registering her earlier words. “If this maneuver is supposed to be done one-handed, why do you do it with two hands?”

“Because I’m—” she clicked her tongue and crossed her arms. “I can’t do it with only one, I have to use both, or else I can’t build enough momentum to complete the two turns.”

Understanding dawned on him as he stared at her. “Because you are small,” he muttered.

Aloy frowned and raised an eyebrow. “You don’t mince words, do you?”

But Kotallo was not paying attention. “You modified the maneuver so that it would suit your combat style.”

She shrugged. “So? I’m not the only one who does that.”

She was right. Kotallo knew plenty of warriors who adapted maneuvers or tactics to complement their individual strengths. One would need to master the basics, of course. But Aloy was correct: it was a common practice.

But that meant he could do the same. It was unlikely that he would be able to modify all of the maneuvers he was taught, but he was sure that there were a number of them that he could.  Why hadn’t this occurred to him before?

“Are you going to try it?” Aloy asked, breaking his line of thought. “You almost had it that first time.”

Kotallo was hesitant to, essentially, perform in front of another person. But Aloy was still looking at him expectantly. And she did not laugh or ridicule him when she saw him training. “If you insist,” he said and replayed her instructions in his mind. “Left knee lower to the ground on the second swing?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

It had taken him four more attempts to complete the two arcs successfully. The turns were still shaky, and he would need to adjust his footing on that second turn to avoid losing balance. But ultimately he had successfully completed the maneuver. And on that last attempt, he stayed low to the ground, recognizing the feeling of pride surging through his chest. It surprised him. Who would have thought he’d ever feel that again?

“I can’t believe it took you less than an hour to learn that.”

Kotallo stood and stared at Aloy. She was shaking her head, but she was smiling. “It took me a full day to learn that move and it took me much longer to make it my own.”

He found himself smiling as well. “It was not perfect.”

Aloy huffed. “Not yet.”

It felt odd to think that he could possibly still be of use in a fight. That it was possible he could learn and adapt to fighting with only one arm. “Not yet,” he acquiesced. 

Chapter Text

Kotallo shouldn't be feeling this much of a strain on his body for training that didn’t even last an hour.

He sat on the ground, his calves feeling stiff. He would have to work on them if he wanted to be able to effectively use this Nora maneuver against enemies. He slid his right leg towards him so that his knee was almost to his chin and began massaging the strained muscles of his calf with his thumb.

“You know, I almost didn’t recognize you,” Aloy said as she sat across from him. She stretched out her legs and leaned on the rock behind her.

“Do you know many one-armed men, then?”

Her eyes went wide and then narrowed at him just as quickly. “You’re going to have to work on that.”

Kotallo settled his arm on his knee. “Work on what?”

“Your delivery. For a second there, I thought you were serious.”

“How are you certain that I’m not?”

“Your face gets all…intense when you are. Like how you were on our way here.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Was that before or after you spoke of the inconvenience the death of my chief caused?"

Aloy pursed her lips and looked away from him. “I already apologized for that,” she muttered. 

“At ease,” Kotallo said, adjusting his position so that he was sitting cross-legged on the ground. He straightened his spine. “I am no longer angry about what you said. Besides, it was true—is true, that his death paved the way for the Tenakth to become allied with the Carja.”

She hummed. “Yeah, our side of the war isn’t looking great.”

“Your friend said something similar.”

Aloy raised her eyebrows. “My friend?”

“Yes,” Kotallo said, frowning at her. “Marad’s agent.”

“Oh, you mean Vanasha.”

“Is she not your friend?”

“I mean—” she lifted her knees and hugged them to her chest. “—we’re on the same side.” 

Strange, he thought as he studied her. She looked vulnerable hugging her knees like that. “So you do not consider her to be your friend, and yet you trust her?”

“Vanasha can be…shifty. But I swear she’s one of the good ones.”

“That doesn’t inspire much confidence.”

“Why? Because she’s Carja?”

Kotallo nodded once, then raised a hand to interrupt her when she opened her mouth to speak. “I know what you’re going to say. But it does not change the fact that it is difficult to know who to trust among them. And trusting in the wrong person is dangerous.”

Aloy shrugged. “I’d say that’s true for any tribe, not just the Carja.”

Of course, he immediately thought of Tekotteh. “There is truth in your words,” he said. “Trust is a… tenuous thing even among my people.”

There was always a possibility that a person would switch sides. But this was usually done with a declaration of the intent to do so, such as when Regalla and her rebels openly declared war on Hekarro. Never before had Kotallo heard of a Tenakth who could be as duplicitous as Tekotteh. 

Perhaps there hadn’t been any before him. Perhaps that’s how they were blindsided by his treachery. 

Kotallo wondered how everyone was faring back in the Clan Lands. Was Dekka still at the Grove? How had Commander Atekka reacted to Hekarro’s death? What happened after Yarra answered Tekotteh’s summons? Were there any concrete plans on marching into the Sundom soon?

He reminded himself that it did not matter. For all they knew, he was already dead. Trampled underneath the feet of a machine in the Sun-Ring. Or perhaps they thought he’d perished from his wounds. 

But again, it didn’t matter. There was nothing in the Clan Lands for him anymore.

He looked up and found Aloy staring at him, her chin on her knees. “Are you thinking about them now?” she asked. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. “About your people?”

“Yes and no,” Kotallo said, a gnawing feeling of longing settling heavily in his stomach. “It is…difficult to explain.” 

Aloy hummed, a faraway look in her eyes. She seemed as lost in her own memories as he was. “I think I understand.”

They let silence fall between them. Neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. It simply existed in the space they were in, as if a third person had joined them. Both of them together, alone in their thoughts, drowning in memories the other knew nothing about. 

But it was late and Kotallo rose early that morning to hunt. His need for sleep made itself known and he yawned against his hand. “Apologies,” he said after.

Aloy smirked. “Long day?”

“Indeed,” he said, rising from the ground. He was about to bid her a good night, when he suddenly remembered that he had yet to return her scarf. “Would you please wait here? I’d like to return your scarf to you, but it is in my tent.”

“Oh, right. I’ll come with you,” Aloy said as she stood as well. She dusted off her pants. “Need to talk to someone, anyway.”

“At this hour?”

Aloy raised her eyebrows, then frowned at the sky. “Oh. I forgot.” 

“You forgot that people go to sleep in the evenings?”

She scoffed at him. “Says the guy who was training in the middle of the night.”

Kotallo huffed. “That is true. Then will you wait here while I fetch your scarf?”

“I’ll come with you, anyway,” she said, shrugging. “I’m gonna borrow a tent.”

“Very well.”

They walked together with Aloy on his right and the lack of paint on her face reminded him of his conversation with Varl earlier. Kotallo scanned her clothes but could not find the symbol that Varl had shown him.

“What are you doing?”

Aloy was scowling at him, her arms crossed in front of her. “Ah, I apologize,” he said. “I was looking for something.”

She arched her brow. “Oh, were you?”

“I met Varl today and he showed me the symbol of a Nora seeker,” he said. “I did not recall seeing it on you at Sunfall, so I was—” Kotallo paused and shook his head. “Forgive me, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” she said, dropping her arms. “Well, you could’ve just asked.”

“Yes, I realized that. I apologize.”

Aloy nodded. Then she shrugged. “I don’t have it on me.”

“You lost it, then?”

“No, I left it back in the Sacred Lands.”

He frowned. Symbols of position such as theirs should not have been left behind. Even Kotallo still had his marshal’s dagger with him. All of the marshals had always carried one with them, even though it was hardly ever used.

“Will you not be needing it?”

“Nope,” she said, popping her lips.

He hummed, though he didn’t understand. “And your tribe will require your return once you’ve completed your mission?”

She barked a laugh. “I’d like to see them try to require me to do anything,” she said. “But I guess I’ll need to return, anyway, once I’m done here.”

Kotallo was no closer to understanding any of it. But it was her business and he could live without knowing. Though now he wished he hadn’t asked. Aloy’s face had taken on a thunderous expression for reasons he didn’t know.

They walked to his tent in silence and he ducked inside to retrieve her scarf. Aloy took it from him with both of her hands, the expression on her face morphing into something similar to the far off look she had earlier. 

“Thanks,” she said, wrapping the scarf around her neck. 

“It is I who should be thanking you,” he said. 

“Don’t mention it,” she said, then studied him, her gaze sweeping over his face. “Was it because of the paint? Or, well, because you didn’t have any on that day?”

Kotallo nodded. “Yes. We are almost never without our paint. Even our young have their faces painted early.”

“Really?” she asked, her face genuinely curious. “So what happens when someone sees you without paint?”

“Nothing.”

“Wait, so it isn’t against your laws or anything?”

“Ah, no. Removing one’s paint is…” Kotallo trailed off, thinking of a simple way of explaining it. “It is a show of trust. We would bare ourselves to members of our squad, for example. And there is no punishment for seeing someone accidentally without their paint.”

“Right,” Aloy said, nodding. “That’s what I meant earlier, when I said I didn’t recognize you at first.”

“I understand.” 

There was suddenly a lull in their conversation and they both shifted awkwardly for a moment before Aloy finally broke the silence.

“I’m just gonna see if there are any tents left,” she said, pointing at the healer’s tent

Kotallo nodded. “On your way, then.” He lay down on the ground beside his tent when Aloy walked away. He put his arm behind his head and closed his eyes, willing himself to go to sleep.

But he heard shuffling a few minutes later. He opened his eyes and saw that Aloy had come back out, and that she was empty-handed. 

“I take it there are no more tents?” he asked, looking up at her from the ground. 

“That or I just couldn’t find them,” she said, tilting her head as she looked down at him. “I thought you were going to go to sleep.”

“That is what I’m attempting to do, yes.”

“Then why aren’t you in your tent?”

His real reason was on the tip of his tongue, but he was already a cripple. Did he really want another reason for people to think him weak? 

“The Tenakth sleep in the open,” he said, instead. “You are welcome to it, if you’d like."

Aloy searched his face. “Well, as long as you don’t mind…?"

“I do not.”

“Okay, thanks.”

She disappeared into his tent and Kotallo resumed his attempts to fall asleep. And considering how early he’d risen that morning, the chaos that afternoon, and his impromptu training earlier, falling asleep wasn’t a hardship at all.

A lifetime of training had made Kotallo an early riser, regardless of the time he slept the night before.

The sky was still dark. But the first rays of sunlight were not far. Already he could see light cutting through the night with hues of orange and pink in the horizon. It was possible that he could still have an hour of sleep, as long as he was not disturbed.

There were no drills to participate in, no reports to think of, no missions to go on; there was nothing urgent to do that meant he had to rise at dawn.

Kotallo sighed and stood, rolling his neck as he did so. He relished in the popping noises his body made as he stretched, first upward, then side-to-side. 

Time to hunt, then. Perhaps the Carja cook would be willing to cook this morning.

After he’d delivered the rabbits and foxes he’d hunted, he went back up the upward path and found Varl, Zo, and Aloy huddled around near his tent. They were pointing and gesturing at something on the ground, and it was only when he was closer that he saw that it was a large parchment with drawings etched in black ink and colored softly in watery paint.

Kotallo had seen one before: a map, as the Carja called them. But the one they had confiscated was incomplete, much of the parchment blank, though they all recognized that it was a map they had been developing of the Utaru fields and parts of the Clan Lands.

The one Aloy was holding now looked to be a finished map. 

The three of them stopped and looked up as he neared. He nodded to them as he passed and ducked in the tent to put away his javelins. When he came out, they were all still looking at him. 

It was Varl who broke the silence. “We were wondering where you’d gone. Were you out hunting this morning?” 

“Yes.”

"Great! Could you come over here? We'd like your opinion on something."

Their faces were open, and they were looking at him expectantly. Kotallo hesitated. He didn’t know why they would want his opinion, but he couldn’t deny that he was curious. He crouched next to Zo, to her left, and set aside his spear. Then he looked at the map. 

Blood of the Ten, he thought, eyes scanning the outlines of mountain ridges and rivers. “All of this is Carja territory?”

“Yep,” Aloy said.

As far as Kotallo could tell, it was roughly the same size as the Clan Lands. It was even similar to the Clan Lands in that it had a rainforest and a desert, though it looked like they didn’t have any lands that had snow. He spotted Sunfall easily, from the large circle drawn on the left-side of the map.

“Where is Meridian?” he asked. 

Aloy put her finger on the lower side of the map, where the rainforest was. As their Carja prisoners had described, Meridian was indeed on top of a mesa. There was no way to travel from the west directly to the city due to the large body of water that near-separated the two land masses.

Kotallo’s thoughts wandered to Hekarro, and his order for the Tenakth to fall back. There would have been no way for them to know how deep into enemy territory they would have had to travel just to reach the Carja capital. That large body of water meant that they would have had to circle around into the desert, on foot. Not to mention that they would have had to pass through Sunfall, a fortress that would be immensely more difficult to conquer than Barren Light.

Regalla was a fool. And not just her, they all were. The tribe had followed the chief's orders, but there were whispers of doubt. Whispers that the chief was a coward. Whispers that he shouldn’t be leading the Tenakth. They had all been blinded by their arrogance and hate. Only Hekarro had the wisdom to see the truth.

They never would have made it to Meridian.

“Kotallo?”

He looked up, jolted into the present. The three were looking at him in concern. 

Zo put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?” she asked. “You seemed… lost in your thoughts.”

“Yes,” he said, his throat feeling incredibly dry. Hekarro would still be alive if only Regalla had trusted him, if only she hadn't given in to her blind rage. Tekotteh would have never had the guts to betray the chief if it weren't for her. 

Kotallo pushed those thoughts away, for now, and cleared his throat of the grief that felt like it was lodged there, cutting off his breathing. He pointed to the large circle that he presumed was supposed to be the Sun-Ring. “This is Sunfall, correct?”

“Yeah, that’s Sunfall,” Aloy said. 

Kotallo traced his finger upwards and settled on a spot surrounded by a river. “Which means this is the Shattered Kiln,” he said, tapping the spot twice. He sat back and crossed his legs. “Were you discussing the plans to relocate?”

Aloy placed her finger further to the east, on the top side of the map, almost to where it ended. “This is where we’re going,” she said. 

Kotallo frowned at her. “Should you be telling me this?”

“Why not?”

“Because it is supposedly classified information,” he said, then turned knowingly to Zo. 

“I’m not the one in charge,” Zo said. “It’s Aloy who decides who knows what.”

Aloy bristled. “Wait, what? That’s not true.”

Varl smirked at her. “You sure about that, Savior?”

Aloy rolled her eyes at him and pointed to the map again. “There’s a Carja tower over here—” she pointed to a spot that was almost in the middle of the curved mountain range between the Shattered Kiln and the place she had indicated earlier, “—and we’re trying to figure out the best way to get past it.”

Kotallo brushed his fingers on top of the strange symbols beneath the tower she pointed to. "What do these symbols mean?"

Aloy tapped her trinket and started swiping through the air. Kotallo looked at Varl and Zo, but they didn't seem to be bothered with what she was doing. But what was she doing?

"The Unflinching Watch," she finally said, pointing to the spot his fingers were. She moved back and pointed to where she said they would be relocating. "And this is Pitchcliff."

"You know how to read Carja glyphs?" he asked, unable to keep from being impressed. Was it common for the Nora to be able to do so? Ah, but Varl looked to Aloy for the answer earlier, which probably meant that only she knew how to.

"Uh, not really," she said, then grimaced. "It's—"

“—complicated. You're going to hear that a lot from her," Varl interjected with a shake of his head. "Anyway, we could always take the guards out on the way."

“It is most likely a watchtower. And if so, they will have a means to send out a signal to call for reinforcements,” Kotallo said. “The best option would be to ensure we pass the tower under the cover of night. But doing so with thirty-seven people would be difficult.”

“You know how many people are here? Right now?” Varl asked, eyebrows raised. 

Kotallo nodded. “That number includes us four.”

Aloy clicked her tongue. “I didn’t realize we had that many.”

“We did have a handful of stragglers from Sunfall arrive recently,” Zo said. 

Kotallo nodded again. “Zo is correct. And out of the thirty-seven, only about half that number are warriors or can wield a weapon.”

"Thirty-seven," Zo said. "Does that include the children?"

"And the infirmed," Kotallo said.

Silence fell as they all looked at the map. That’s when Kotallo noticed a path on the other side of the mountain range. The etchings there were far less detailed compared to the rest of the map. “What is here on this path?” he asked, tracing the path with his finger.

Zo and Varl looked to Aloy, but she shook her head. “I haven’t passed through there before.”

“Then I suggest a reconnaissance mission,” Kotallo said. “If we can determine that this path is less of a risk, then we might have a better option of relocating everyone safely.”

Aloy slapped her hands on her thighs and stood up. “Alright, I’ll go check it out. Should be back in no time.” 

Kotallo looked up at her. “You should take someone with you.”

She shook her head as she gathered her things and put them in a satchel. “I’ll be faster on my own.”

The way Varl and Zo looked at each other did not escape Kotallo’s notice. He stood up and dusted off his pants. “It is unwise to go on this mission alone."

"I've done this plenty of times. It'll be fine."

"You could be wounded and be unable to return. Then how would the rest of us know that the path is safe?”

Aloy glared at him. “Well, if I don’t return, then I guess you’ll have your answer,” she said. “But I’ll be fine, stop worrying.”

“A single mistake is all that’s needed for a mission to fall apart.”

Aloy dropped her satchel and faced him with her hands on her hips. “Lucky for us, I don’t make mistakes,” she said.

Kotallo’s eyebrows shot up. It was arrogant of her to make such a statement, even though she was a formidable warrior. Why was she being so obstinate? Even the best of warriors made mistakes, especially when headed into unknown territory. But before he could voice these thoughts, Varl spoke from the ground.

“I agree with Kotallo. I don’t think you should go alone.”

“I agree, as well," Zo said. "The rest of us would be comforted to know that you have someone to help you. Should you need it,” she added.

Aloy looked at them then huffed; her lips curved in a sardonic smile. “Fine,” she said. She picked up her satchel and swung it over her shoulder. Then she jerked her head towards Kotallo. “Come with me, then.”

Kotallo frowned. “You wish for me to accompany you?”

The expression on her face as she shrugged was murderous. “It was your idea, wasn’t it?” 

Kotallo looked back at Zo and Varl as Aloy walked off. Zo sighed and Varl shrugged in an almost apologetic manner. “Keep her safe?” he said.

He hummed and bent down to pick up his spear. ‘Something tells me she won't make it easy.’

Kotallo rushed into his tent to get his javelins. He also took some medicinal berries, salves, and bandages from the healers’ tent. By the time he caught up with Aloy, she was standing just outside the south exit with her arms crossed in front of her. The expression on her face had improved, but not by much, and when he approached her she arched a brow at him.

He did the same. “Come, we’re wasting time by standing here,” he said. “The sooner we have the information we need, the sooner we can finalize our plans.” 

Kotallo didn’t give her a chance to respond and walked ahead of her, but he did hear her scoff behind him. If they hurried—and if they didn’t run into complications—they might be able to return well before the noon meal.

Neither of them spoke as they crossed the river, easily sneaking around the herd of chargers. It was not as easy to sneak by the shell-walkers, but they managed just fine. They had to duck behind some of the bigger rocks to avoid being seen by the Carja soldiers standing guard at the Unflinching Watch, but they snuck past without issue.

“It might not be the best idea to use this path, after all,” Kotallo said as he scanned ahead.

“Why not?”

He gestured to their surroundings. “This path is too narrow and there are no viable escape routes, in the event that things go awry,” he said. He glanced at Aloy. “Relocating will not be easy.”

“Nothing ever is,” she said. She tapped her trinket and drew a sharp inhale. “There’s a sig—uh, there’s something over there, by that turn. We might as well see what it is.”

Aloy started to jog ahead of him, and he followed suit, confused by her sudden rush. A few moments later, they reached the turn she spoke of and what he saw made his neck tingle with apprehension. On their left side, carved into the mountain was a giant triangle that contained a familiar-looking metal doorway.

Of course, they had cauldrons here in the east, but Kotallo had never seen one so close before. The Tenakth knew to steer away from these metal doorways as they were usually guarded by deadly machines. And even when they cleared it, they never managed to get inside and, before long, machines would reappear. But there were no machines here, at least none that he could see. 

He stopped in his tracks and crouched, but Aloy was still walking ahead of him towards the cauldron. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Calm down. I just want to take a closer look.”

Kotallo clicked his tongue. “Alo—” he stopped cold. A metal whirring rang through the air and a red spark shot upwards near her feet. Then he saw, from the corner of his eye, a blue light emerging from the brush.

He rushed towards her, dropping his satchel, his heart pounding against his chest. “Get down!”

Kotallo tackled her to the ground just as the blue light shot in their direction above them in a razor-thin line. “Stalker,” he growled.

Aloy gasped at something behind him. “Make that two. Move!”

They rolled in opposite directions, Kotallo brandishing his spear when he got to his feet. Thank the Ten they’d decided to go here during the day! It made the stalkers a little easier to spot, their stealth cloaks shimmering ever-so-slightly in the daylight. But it would still be tricky taking them down. He’d have to trust that Aloy would be able to hold her own. 

There was that blue light again! Kotallo rolled out of the way, then ran as fast as he could in the stalker's direction. It ran towards him, too, and just as it pounced, Kotallo slid underneath it and pierced its belly with his spear. 

It landed on its side behind him, appearing solidly with its black metal armor on the grass and blue sparks emitting from where he’d pierced it. Kotallo stood as quickly as he could and punctured his spear through the heavy gun on its back, dislodging it from its body. He moved to attack its side, to where he knew the pesky missile launchers were, but the stalker moved and slammed its tail on his back.

Kotallo fell on the ground and the stalker immediately pounced on him, its maw coming near his face. He brought up his spear so it was lodged in its mouth. But it was strong and it kept on pushing and Kotallo was nowhere near strong enough to keep it at bay. 

On his right, he could see another blue light emerging from his periphery. That meant Aloy had perished, and he was going to die. They failed the mission.

But the blue light didn’t hit him! It hit the stalker on top of him, on its side, and it stumbled. Kotallo pushed it off him and whipped his head to the right and saw Aloy, alive and carrying a heavy metal weapon. 

She’s using their weapon against them, he thought, astonished at the realization. He’d never seen anyone do that before.

Aloy fired the weapon up and shot at the stalker next to him. Again and again, she shot at it until it lay unmoving on the grass. When she was done, she dropped it on the ground with a loud thud and dusted off her hands. 

She grinned at him. “You alright?”

“Look out!” Kotallo shouted. But it was too late. A blue light had suddenly appeared and Aloy fell to the ground with a shout, clutching her right side. 

A third stalker emerged from its stealth cloak and was running straight for her. Kotallo ran towards it, holding his spear up high. He threw his spear with all his might and it pierced through the stalker’s head. It stumbled, but it was still alive!

Kotallo crouched next to the weapon that Aloy had used and turned it towards the remaining stalker. “Where—”

“Trigger—” she gasped “—on the side!”

He found it! Kotallo knelt one knee and lifted the dart gun onto his other thigh. Blood of the Ten! The weapon was heavy!

The stalker was starting to stand. Kotallo held the trigger and entreated the Ten that it would work. He fired the weapon but the shot went wide. He adjusted his aim. This time it hit its shoulder. 

It took three more shots before the stalker fell and Kotallo pushed the weapon off him. Aloy was gasping and groaning, her blood-soaked hands covering her wound. 

“Don’t move,” he said and scanned the area for his satchel. He ran towards it when he spotted it and returned to Aloy’s side.

She groaned as he let him pull her hands away. “Make that three,” she gasped.

“Stop talking,” Kotallo growled. He took out one of the bandages and wiped her wound. It was a good thing she was still wearing her Carja armor, he wouldn’t have to tear anything or try to remove her armor with only one hand. The wound wasn’t as deep as he thought, but he was sure it hurt like fire.

“No need to—ow!—to be so angry,” she said, her eyes closed tight, her lips twisted in a grimace. 

Kotallo shoved some berries in her hand. “Eat this and stop talking,” he growled again before rubbing salve onto the wound.

Aloy put all the berries in her mouth and groaned, her face scrunched in disgust. “Eugh.”

He put his hand under her head. “Sit up.”

“Yeah, okay,” she said and put her hand flat on the ground and pushed just as Kotallo pulled. “Shit, that stings.”

“Hold this here,” Kotallo said, placing a clean, folded bandage in her hand and pressing it on her side. “And stop talking.” 

“What is your problem?”

“My problem is that you are reckless,” he spat, wrapping another bandage around her waist and covering the wound. “Reckless and foolish.”

She grabbed the front of his leather top and pulled him close to her face. They glared at each other, both of them vibrating from the adrenaline coursing through their bodies. 

“We’re alive, aren’t we?”

“You’re wounded. I warned you that all it takes is a single mistake.”

“You didn’t have to come with me! I could’ve done this alone and I wouldn’t have had to save you from that stalker!”

“This entire fight could’ve been avoided had you listened to me!”

“Look around! We won!”

“You almost cost us the mission! Have you forgotten that we were supposed to find a safe path for the people at the settlement? So that we could relocate everyone safely?”

Kotallo grasped her wrist, his entire hand closing in on her flesh. “You may be a strong warrior,” he said in a low voice. “But your strength will count for nothing if you think and fight only for yourself.”

Aloy gasped and her eyes widened. Her hand slackened on his top where she had grabbed it. 

There, Kotallo thought vindictively as he scowled at her. He didn’t know what he said exactly that caused her to look so horrified, but he didn’t care. He just hoped it was enough for her to learn her lesson.

He let go of her wrist and stood up. He picked up her satchel and his and swung both over his right shoulder. “Come,” he said to her. “We should not delay here.”

It took them a while to figure out how Kotallo could support her and carry both of their satchels. They settled on combining all their belongings into one and swinging it over Kotallo’s left shoulder with Aloy’s left arm over his shoulders so she could hold on to the strap with her hand. He lifted her up and placed his right hand on her hip, carefully avoiding her wound.

It was a much slower walk back to the Shattered Kiln. There were moments they thought that the Carja guards at the watchtower would spot them, moments where multiple shell-walkers were alerted to their presence, and they had to crouch low in brushes. Even sneaking past the herd of chargers was tricky.

Evening had fallen by the time they set foot in the settlement. Zo and Varl were waiting for them at the south exit and they quickly made their way over to them as soon as they saw them. 

“She’s wounded,” Kotallo said as they gently extricated Aloy from him, the satchel dropping to the ground by his feet. “I patched her up as best as I could.”

“He’s got a big scratch on his arm,” Aloy said quietly, avoiding his gaze. 

“I’ll take a look at both of you when we’re inside,” Zo said. She turned to Varl. “You have her?”

“Yep,” Varl said and put Aloy’s arm around his shoulders. “I could carry you, if you want.”

Aloy shook her head. “I’d rather you didn’t. I can walk, just—”

“Okay, okay.”

Kotallo was watching them trudge along when Zo touched his arm. “It doesn’t look that deep,” she said as she inspected the scratch he didn’t even notice on the way here. “But we’ll need to clean it to avoid infection.”

“Your assistance is appreciated.”

Zo looked up at him. “I suppose this means we won’t be using that path?"

He stared back at the direction of where the path began, past the river. It was too dangerous. It wasn't worth the risk. 

“No, we won’t."

Chapter Text

Kotallo examined the leather strap on his right shoulder. He wore it just as he had been instructed to, so that the point of the spear was pointed to the ground. He gripped the spear and pulled it upwards so that it pointed forward. As he did so, the strap fell off his shoulder on its own.

“This way, you won’t have to make any other movements just to get it off your back. And you can store it easily again on your shoulder after.”

It would not have been too much of an issue, normally, if he still had two arms. But Kotallo only had one arm now and he was tired of having to let go of his spear just so he could switch to using a javelin. This way, he wouldn’t have to. 

“Such a simple solution. But effective,” he said, putting back the strap on his shoulder. He looked back up at the young, Oseram woman. “You have my thanks, Varga.”

Varga beamed at him and put her gloved hands on her hips. “Told you I’d figure it out.”

“I never doubted you,” he assured her.

Kotallo’s attention turned to Varga’s workstation behind her. There were strange-looking javelins of different sizes lined up against each other. He nodded to them. “Are these the weapons you’ve been experimenting on? The… prototypes, I believe you called them?”

“Yeah,” she said, looking at them now, too, with a sheepish smile. “I swear I haven’t been slacking off on making the other weapons. I just had a little time to work on these, too.”

“May I?” Kotallo asked, gesturing to the table. He approached the table when she nodded. 

Kotallo picked up one of the weapons lined up on the table. It was much heavier than a normal javelin and had attachments to them. He recognized that some of them had explosives. “These look…” Well, they looked excessive, in his opinion. He glanced at Varga, and she had a hopeful expression on her face.

“They look dangerous,” he said, and he knew he said the right thing when Varga beamed at him again.

"I wish these Banuk agreed with you. I can't seem to sell crap to a Glinthawk around here," she said, gesturing roughly at the settlement. "Everyone wants boring old bows and spears."

Kotallo put the modified javelin back onto the table. "There is nothing wrong with normal weapons. The weapon itself is not deadly, it is the wielder that makes it so." He arched his brow. "Still, this is good work you've done on these javelins. Very inventive."

"Thanks! I call them spike throwers." She picked up the same one he had been inspecting and pointed to the attachment at the end. "This one splits into six parts and all of them explode on impact."

That piqued his curiosity. "How does it split into six parts?"

"You press this button here—" she pointed to a red button on the side "—before you throw it. But you have to throw it pretty fast after you press it."

"What happens if you don't?"

She shrugged. "I haven’t had the chance to test it. But it'll probably split itself right there in your hands and explode."

Then they are dangerous, he thought. "Oh, is that all?" he replied in his most deadpan voice. "In any case, I look forward to seeing your creations in action. They will make for a spectacular addition to our arsenal."

Varga cupped a hand around her mouth and whispered loudly. "I thought this was a 'just-in-case' thing and we won't be expecting a fight?"

That was not precisely what they said to the settlement after they finalized their plans. Not only did they have to avoid the Carja, but there were also the machines along the way to think about. But he did not have the time to get into it now. "Even the best laid plans can sometimes go wrong,” he said, instead.

"You've got a point," she said and placed the spike thrower back on the table. "Still, I'm hoping we get to use 'em. Maybe my dad will actually let me help out on one of his stuff if he sees that my ideas actually work."

"Ha! A real warrior has no need for such tricks to win a fight." 

Varga frowned and Kotallo looked over his shoulder. A light-haired Banuk was smirking at him, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Kotallo had seen him around the settlement before, picking fights with anyone and everyone, even with the Banuk squad leader. This might have been the third or fourth time that he’d thrown thinly veiled comments in Kotallo’s direction today, and it occurred to him that the frequency in which he did were increasing.

“Inatut,” Kotallo said, nodding in his direction. He was not unfamiliar with heckling or jeering, he’d grown up in the Bulwark and was the youngest to become marshal. What Inatut said was nothing compared to the comments he’d received at the time. 

Besides, he’d heard worse comments from his tribesmen after his maiming. Kotallo doubted that there was anything else that could hurt more after that.

He turned back to Varga and her weapons. The frown she directed at Inatut turned to a questioning glance towards Kotallo. He shot her a small smile that he hoped was reassuring. “I am certain that your weapons will impress Burgrend when he sees how effective they are.” 

She beamed at him again. “Gee, thanks, Kotallo.” 

Kotallo nodded and went on his way. It was still early in the day, but the settlement was fully awake: the clangs of hammer against metal rang through the air, as did the buzzing of multiple voices talking at once. 

He needed to check on the others’ progress: the building of the carts to carry the children and the infirmed, the ammo and bombs that the other Oseram were making, the meat that the Carja cook—Guhil, that was his name—was preparing, the supplies that the other Carja were gathering; there was still much to do and not a lot of time to do it. 

Now that he thought about it, the only group that was not actively contributing to the preparations was the Banuk. They spent all of their time training, though they did go on hunts from time-to-time. Varl mentioned that they would mostly be the heavy hitters when they inevitably faced machines or even the Carja, but Kotallo knew and understood the importance of a group of people working together towards one common goal. If there was anything that he learned from his time as a marshal, it was that.

How did Hekarro do this? How did he unite three clans under one banner? Yes, they were all Tenakth and they all believed in the teachings of the Ten, but that was where the similarities ended before Hekarro took over the Grove. Each of the tribes faced different challenges in their day-to-day lives and so their attitudes and beliefs were different from one another. 

It was a good thing that Kotallo was not in charge of this settlement and that he was only helping Varl and Aloy wrangle these people to achieve a short-term goal. It was bad enough that he was truly an outsider from these lands, it certainly didn’t help that he had been somehow looped in the inner circle. Him, a maimed Tenakth. It was no wonder the Banuk weren’t impressed. 

Kotallo was even confused as to how that happened. He was minding his own business when he was suddenly invited to strategize with Varl, Zo, and Aloy. And since Aloy had been wounded during their reconnaissance mission a few days ago, Kotallo had to step in more in the planning process than he thought he needed to. 

Of course, managing the whole group would be a lot easier if Aloy was more involved. For reasons he did not know, they all seemed to hold Aloy in high regard, though it seemed that it was only the Carja who called her ‘Savior’. Even the Banuk were more obedient when they knew that it was Aloy who gave the order. Though that shouldn’t have surprised him. The Banuk and the Tenakth were similar in that they respected strength above all else, and Aloy was undoubtedly one of the strongest warriors in the settlement—possibly even in the east, if the rumors were to be believed.

Strong, but foolish, he thought. And reckless. 

He did not regret the words that he spoke to her the day they felled the stalkers near the cauldron. They were true and it was necessary for her to hear them. Though hearing and listening were two entirely different matters, and if Aloy didn’t tend to listen to Varl or Zo, there was little to no chance that she’d listen to him.

No matter, Kotallo was almost certain that she’d be moving on soon, perhaps right after they were able to relocate to Pitchcliff. The last time he’d seen her, she had been moving a bit stiffly. But she still moved constantly around the settlement and outside of it, despite Zo’s protests. It was as if she did not know how to keep still. Waiting obviously made her restless. 

But waiting was necessary, especially now. If they were only moving a handful of people, they might have been able to relocate with just a handful of weapons and ammo among them, and the clothes off their back. With thirty-seven people, half who did not know how to fight or were sick, that was impossible. 

After checking the carts, Kotallo made his way over to the two Oseram who had volunteered to make the bombs. As he approached, he saw Aloy crouched on the ground. She was wearing the same armor he had first seen her in when she rescued him in Sunfall.

The two Oseram were crouched on the ground, as well, gesticulating with their hands, as their people seemed to be in the habit of doing. They were pointing to the bombs and their resources when he reached them.

“What is the matter?” he asked.

Aloy looked up at him and stood. She pursed her lips and gestured to the two Oseram. “They said they’re running out of blaze and chillwater.”

The two Oseram nodded, their eyes wide as they looked up at him. It baffled Kotallo that he could still intimidate some people even though he was obviously not a threat. “Understood. We will get more for you,” he said. He gestured to the bombs on the ground. “It is impressive that you have completed this much in such a short time.”

He nodded to them and turned to walk away. He still needed to check on Guhil and the other Carja. Once he was done, he could hunt for blaze and chillwater. The blaze would be easy, he would just need to go to the same spot he and Varl went to to hunt grazers. The chillwater would be tricker, he hadn’t seen any—

“Hey, Kotallo?”

Aloy walked up to him so she was standing to his right, her arms crossed in front of her, shoulders tense. He wondered what she could want with him now after avoiding him since they returned to the Shattered Kiln. 

Not that he was any better. He was still very much annoyed with her and had avoided her simply because he didn’t want to lose his temper again. “Yes?” he said.

She reached up and scratched her cheek. “I was thinking of getting the blaze and chillwater those two need and I was, uh,” she paused and took a deep breath before turning to look at him. “I was thinking that I could use your help.”

He scanned her form. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“Not you, too,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I’ve rested enough.”

Kotallo hummed, unconvinced. “I was planning to do so after making my final checks,” he said. He arched his brow at her. “I admit that I’m surprised that you’re enlisting help for this.”

Aloy scoffed and dropped her arms. “Oh, I can go alone. I don’t need any help. But you’re the one that said—” she stopped and pursed her lips again. 

He wanted to believe he was not the type to say ‘I told you so’, but a confirmation that she had learned her lesson would be a comfort. “Yes?” he said.

She clicked her tongue. “Are you coming or not?”

It was strangely amusing to irritate Aloy, and easy to do, too. But she did ask for help in her own way, and it was clear that it was difficult for her to do so. It would be poor manners on his part if he continued to rub salt in the wound.

All that really mattered to him was that her pride and recklessness would not become a liability in the future.

“I will fetch my javelins.”

“Okay,” she said, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. “Meet me by the west exit.”

Kotallo nodded and made his way to his tent. On the way, he passed by Varga’s table and entertained the idea of volunteering to test one of her weapons since he was going out into the field. 

He reached his tent just as Varl exited his. The Nora raised his hand in greeting. “Hey, going somewhere?”

“Yes. One moment, please,” Kotallo said and ducked into his tent. He took his javelins and reached for his satchel. “We need more blaze and chillwater for the bombs,” he said to Varl once he was outside again.

“Need a hand?” Varl winced and rubbed his face. “Sorry, that was just an expression. I didn’t mean—”

Kotallo huffed. “I am familiar with this saying. There is no need to worry,” he said. “I will be accompanying Aloy on this hunt, and I believe the two of us will be enough to procure the necessary components. Have you seen any bellowbacks or glinthawks in the area? I know of no other machines that carry chillwater.”

Varl shook his head. “I haven’t seen bellowbacks here in the Sundom. Plenty of glinthawks, but they’re miles away from here,” he said, then tilted his head. “Wait, did you say you’ll be accompanying Aloy? Why does that sound as if she asked you to come with her?”

Kotallo frowned. “Because she did,” he said. Varl had enlisted his help in getting blaze canisters on the day that they met, even though he had seen that he had only one arm. Why would it surprise him that Aloy had done the same? “Is it so strange to think that Aloy would ask for my help?”

Varl snorted. “What’s strange is that she asked for help at all. I mean, you saw how she reacted when you suggested going with her on that scouting mission. And thank the Goddess that you did.”

Ah, so that’s what it was, he thought. “I only suggested that she take someone with her. I didn't mean to suggest that she take me,” he said. “In any case, I have a feeling that her asking me now has something to do with what I told her when she was wounded.”

“What did you tell her?”

Kotallo shrugged. “Just that she was reckless.”

“Oh yeah, she definitely can be,” Varl said, nodding. He pinned Kotallo with a pleading expression. “Take it easy on her, okay? Just asking for help is probably already a big step for her. I—uh, I don’t think she has a lot of experience dealing with people.”

"What do you mean?"

Varl rubbed the back of his neck, the expression on his face turning into a grimace. “I don’t know if it’s for me to say.”

If it was information that wasn’t pertinent to their mission, then he could do without it. Kotallo nodded. “I was able to check on everyone’s progress except for the Carjas’. Would you be able to see if Guhil and the others require anything?” 

“Yeah, of course. Good hunting out there.”

Kotallo made his way back down and walked to Varga’s table. As he suspected, she was more than happy to provide him with a prototype, one of the simpler ones, and quickly explained how it worked and showed him where the button was. She was disappointed she wouldn’t be able to witness the result herself, but there were still a great deal of things she needed to complete. 

Aloy stood just outside the west exit, her arms crossed in front of her. The sight was strangely familiar and Kotallo realized that this was reminiscent of how their reconnaissance mission started: with her waiting for him by an exit.

She arched her brow at his approach. “What took you so long?” she asked as they walked over the bridge. 

Impatient, he thought to himself. “I informed Varl that we will be out hunting for blaze and chillwater.” He tilted his body to show her the spike thrower strapped to his back next to his spear. “And I also picked up this javelin from Varga.”

Aloy looked at the weapon with interest. “She calls them spike throwers.”

“Yes. I didn’t realize that you were aware of them.”

“I hunted down a couple of the components she still needed last time,” she said briskly with a shrug. “Good, we’ll probably need that later.”

“I only meant to test it for her,” he said. He glanced behind him at the spike thrower. “It seems overkill to use it against grazers.”

She shook her head. “We’re not hunting grazers.”

“We’re not?”

“Grazers don’t have chillwater.”

“I am aware,” he said, drolly. “Grazers carry blaze, however. We can procure those first, then we can figure out where to find chillwater.”

Aloy shook her head again. “There’s only one type of machine that carries chillwater in this area. And it carries blaze, too. It’ll be like hitting two birds with one stone.”

Kotallo frowned. “Why would you hit two birds with one stone?”

“It’s just a saying. It means that we’ll get both the blaze and the chillwater by hunting one machine instead of two.”

He racked his brain for the type of machine that she described. It might be a simple machine that existed only here in the east. “I do not know of any machine that carries both blaze and chillwater,” he said. 

“Oh?” Aloy shot him a curious glance. “So, you don’t have any behemoths in the west?”

“Behe—” Kotallo stopped walking. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What’s wrong?”

Kotallo breathed deeply, and on the exhale, he dropped his hand and scowled at Aloy. “Reckless,” he grumbled, shaking his head.

Aloy’s fists clenched at her side and she, too, breathed in deeply. “I’m really starting to hate that word.”

He stepped closer to her. “You expect us to eliminate a behemoth? Just the two of us?”

“So? What’s the big deal?” she said, bringing her arms out. “I’m a pretty good hunter. And I’ve seen the way you fight.”

A tiny bit of warmth spread from his chest. Her words should not have pleased him. 

Kotallo opened his mouth to tell her again how reckless she was and how disappointed he was that she hadn’t learned her lesson, when she interrupted him. “One behemoth will give us all the blaze and all the chillwater we need. Plus, they’ve got metalbite, and I’m sure that’ll come in handy.”

Kotallo scoffed and shook his head at her. “A behemoth is not a machine to be taken lightly.”

“Yeah, okay,” she said and ran a hand over her hair. “But that’s why I asked you to come with me.”

Kotallo vaguely recalled telling her that it was unwise to go on missions alone. And he supposed that Aloy asking for assistance was an improvement. But a behemoth! Of all the machines they could be going after, this woman had chosen a behemoth! 

The Ten help him, he thought as he rubbed his forehead. This is madness.

He turned away from her. A behemoth, he thought. He had idly wondered if it was possible to defeat a behemoth without a squad when he had spotted the beast from afar. But it had just been a passing thought! He had not actually planned on doing it.

“Well?”

Kotallo turned to face Aloy. She was looking at him expectantly, as if he was being the unreasonable one. Madness, he thought again.

He raised a finger at her. “If there is any indication, any indication at all, that we won’t be able to defeat the beast,” he said. “We will retreat immediately.”

“It won’t come to that.”

“Aloy—”

“Just trust me on this,” she said, waving her hand. “It’ll be fine.”

“That’s what you said last time,” Kotallo said with a grunt. He sighed. “Well, you may lack sense. But you don’t lack courage.”

Aloy’s lips quirked up at the corners. “Come on. Let’s just go.”

The lone behemoth was easy to spot once you crossed the bridge. It was in the middle of a grassy field that had large rocks scattered in the area. Kotallo and Aloy hid behind one of them and observed the hulking machine. This close, he could see how large it truly was and could only imagine how terrifying it must have been for those who died in the Sun-Ring. 

Kotallo remembered the crushed body in the middle of the ring when he first arrived at Sunfall and the terrified face and screams of the woman they dragged out of the cell the day he was supposed to be sacrificed. It was a deadly machine, and Aloy expected them to defeat it? Just the two of them?

The machine started stomping at the ground, each impact making the earth vibrate beneath them. Aloy reached up and tapped the trinket on her temple.

“There’s your behemoth. It won’t be easy to take down,” Kotallo said. He glanced at his stump, despair slowly swelling in his chest. “Especially with this.”

“Hey.”

He looked at Aloy. She was staring at him with a hard expression. “What is it?” he asked when she didn't say anything further.

“You’ve got this,” she said without breaking away from his gaze. 

Her faith in his abilities should not have bolstered his confidence, but it did; the despair he felt disappeared and hope tentatively bloomed in its place. He took out his spear and nodded to her.

“I’ll take off the canisters we need from afar while you distract it,” Aloy said. “Once I give the signal, use Varga’s spike thrower.”

She dropped her satchel and stepped from behind the rock, crouching in the grass without waiting for him to respond. Kotallo could hardly see her. He briefly admired her ability to almost completely disappear before dropping his own satchel and stepping out from behind the rock. 

“Over here!” he shouted and ran in the opposite direction. “Come and face me!”

The lights at the front of the behemoth’s face turned red as it looked at him and tracked his movements. It pawed the ground and shook its head from side to side. Kotallo stopped running and widened his stance. He knew that the machine was going to charge at him any moment now.

There! The ground was shaking as the machine ran at him. Each heavy step made Kotallo’s head pound. The racing of his heart roared in his ears, but he stamped down the urge to run and remained where he was.

Closer, he thought, his heart beating faster and faster. Come on!

Kotallo rolled to the side and the behemoth rushed past him. But he didn’t go very far before the machine started lifting its front legs. Rocks of various sizes started lifting off the ground. 

He turned on his heels and started running away from the machine and turned his head to look at the very last second before the behemoth slammed its paws on the ground, hurling all the rocks out in a wide circle. 

Kotallo narrowly avoided one by rolling on the ground, but another rock grazed his back and he fell with a grunt. The sound of an explosion and a metallic roar had him turning his attention back to the behemoth and saw the moment the force loaders on one side of its body fell to the ground. 

Yes! 

Aloy was standing in the middle of the field, no longer hidden, and nocking another arrow on her bow. The behemoth turned its body to face her and pawed the ground again. It was going to charge at her, she needed to get out of there! But she didn’t move and instead pulled on the string. The behemoth charged at her straight-on.

Kotallo strapped his spear back on his shoulder and took out one of his javelins. “Move, Aloy!” he yelled. 

Aloy released her arrow. A moment later he heard another explosion. The behemoth roared again and the force loaders on the other side of its body fell to the ground. ‘Incredible aim,’ he thought.

They were winning! They were actually winning against this fearsome machine!

Kotallo raised the javelin above his head and ran towards the beast as it started to stand. The behemoth was no longer deadly, its ranged attacks neutralized. 

They could do this!

Exhilaration bubbled in his stomach, and he couldn’t contain himself. He cried out just before he threw the javelin, the sound full of excitement that sounded foreign even to his ears. The javelin hit the behemoth’s freeze canister and it fell from the machine’s body intact. 

Kotallo laughed and took out another javelin. He aimed at the blaze canister, but a hard-point arrow beat him to it. No matter, there was still the acid canister. Kotallo aimed for it and threw the javelin. The canister dropped to the ground a moment later.

“Kotallo, now!” Aloy’s voice rang through the clearing.

He took a few steps backwards as he unstrapped the spike thrower. Then he ran towards the behemoth again. He pressed the button Varga showed him and lobbed it at the machine, hitting it squarely and embedding it in its cargo container.

The explosion happened a second after impact. The behemoth groaned and swayed and fell on its front. The clearing fell silent and Kotallo’s heart eventually slowed to its normal pace as he stared at the fallen machine.

Varga would be pleased. Kotallo remembered the other spike thrower that she showed him, the one that she said would split itself into six parts. He could only imagine the destruction that it would bring to any of their enemies.

“Huh.”

He turned to Aloy and paused. Her lips were curled in a small smile and her head was tilted to the side. The positive feelings from the fight were still swimming around inside him and he couldn’t help but smile back at her. 

“What is it?”

Aloy shook her head, her smile widening. “You whooped.”

Ah, he did, didn’t he? Kotallo smoothed his expression as best as he could. “I did not whoop.”

She snorted and walked towards the behemoth, picking up the canisters as she went. “You definitely whooped. And you laughed.” She arched her brow and smirked. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

Kotallo dislodged the spike from the behemoth. It was charred to a crisp. He let it fall to the ground; he didn’t think it would be worth returning it to Varga. He turned to Aloy and frowned at her. “You didn’t know that I could do what?”

“Laugh,” Aloy said as she walked towards him. “I didn’t know you could laugh.”

Kotallo huffed. “What made you think that I could not?”

“Because you’re always so serious?”

“Well, there hasn’t been—” Kotallo hesitated. This was a good fight. A fight that he enjoyed immensely, despite his earlier misgivings. He couldn’t remember the last time he had fun testing his skills with a comrade-in-arms against a deadly machine like this. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed like that. 

It was as if his life was now separated into two categories: before and after. Where before held the happier times when he was still whole. And now was the after, where he was picking up the pieces.

Blood of the Ten, he thought, cursing his own sullenness. Was it always going to be this way? Swinging from one mood to the other? Always having to reign in his temper?

“Hey, you okay?”

Kotallo turned away and nodded. He took another javelin to try and pry the cargo container off the machine’s body. He jammed it into one of the holders and pulled with a grunt. The container dropped to the ground when he managed to take both holders off. 

He knelt and sorted through the components inside. “I didn't think we’d survive,” he admitted, looking at the behemoth on the ground. It was truly a large machine, and if Aloy hadn’t taken off its force loaders, it would have been a much more difficult fight. Possibly one where they wouldn’t survive. “It would normally take a squad to finish off a behemoth.”

Kotallo looked up at Aloy when she didn’t respond. She was staring at the ground with a frown and she was disturbing the dirt with her foot. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, and he knew that she was working up to say something. 

So he waited. He turned his attention back to the cargo container as he did.

“When we first met,” Aloy said at last, her voice soft. “You asked me where my squad was.”

He nodded. He still remembered what she had said, then, and how shocked he was at seeing how much carnage she was able to accomplish alone. “You said you didn’t have one.”

“Right, I did say that,” she said. He heard her take a sharp breath. “I’ve never had one. A squad, I mean.”

Kotallo stood and faced her. “The Nora braves do not operate in squads?”

“I’m not actually sure,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and shrugging. “I don’t know if they have squads, or if they even call them squads.”

She obviously wanted to talk about something specific, but she was doing a roundabout way of getting to her point. Kotallo recalled Varl saying that Aloy didn’t have many experiences dealing with people and wondered if what she was telling him now had something to do with that. He also recalled Aloy’s bitter laugh when he asked her before if she was required to return to the Nora Sacred Lands after her mission. 

Aloy wasn’t looking at him, she was still staring at the ground. The thought that she might be more comfortable confiding to his back occurred to him, so he turned to face the behemoth and inspected the cables running down its leg.  “Did you live apart from your tribe? Is that why you do not know?”

“You could say that.”

Aloy continued in a sharp tone. “I was made an outcast when I was born. The first time I was able to step foot in the Embrace was when I was eighteen.” 

He glanced over his shoulder just as she ran her hands over her hair. She sighed. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. None of that is relevant," she said. "All I wanted to say is that… you were right.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask about everything she just said. Outcast since birth? he thought. But Aloy still had her arms wrapped around herself, looking everywhere but at him.

“What exactly was I right about?” he asked, instead.

Aloy hunched her shoulders and looked at him. “You said that being strong will count for nothing if I don’t serve a purpose greater than myself.”

Though the words still held the meaning, he was almost certain that that wasn’t what he said. He paused for a moment to try and recall that moment near the cauldron. “I believe I said that it will count for nothing if you only fight for yourself.”

Aloy snorted and shook her head. “Shit, you might be right. I’m getting it all mixed up.” She looked away. “And it hasn’t even been that long,” she murmured.

“Someone’s told you something similar, then?”

She nodded and her eyes held the same faraway look he saw the night she caught him practicing the Nora maneuver. “Yeah. My—” she shook her head “—the man who trained me. He said…”

Aloy's brows furrowed once more, and her eyes darted back and forth. “He said that the strength to stand alone is the strength to make a stand.”

“To stand alone…” Kotallo repeated. She didn’t mean truly alone, did she? “And you said you never had a squad?”

She shook her head. “No squad,” she said. “Rost—the man who trained me. He, uh, had to raise me alone. For the longest time, it was just me and him.”

Kotallo thought of Varl who had a brave’s mark painted on his face, the design chosen by his family. He thought of what he said that braves don’t use hand signals to communicate, but that they would come together to plan before a battle. To Kotallo, that indicated that the Nora were like the Tenakth in that they hunted and fought in groups.

It was so different from the life that Aloy was describing to him. Did that mean that her situation was an uncommon one among the Nora?

“Where is Rost now?” he asked, though he was certain that he knew the answer.

She sighed and hunched her shoulders even more. “He died almost a year ago.”

If it was true that she was made an outcast when she was born—and why would anyone ever cast out a baby—and she recently lost the man who raised her, it helped explain the behavior that he’d seen from her: how she was adamant to do things her way and how she liked to do things alone. 

“Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked,” Aloy said, cutting through his thoughts. “That’s all I wanted to say, really.”

Her eyes widened when Kotallo turned to face her fully. “You wanted to tell me that I was right.”

“Yeah.” She nodded and dropped her arms. “You were right.”

He arched his brow at her. “And what about running off on your own? Is that something that you will continue doing?”

Aloy clicked her tongue. “I brought you along today, didn’t I?”

“I suppose you did. I’m glad that you’ve learned this lesson,” he said, smirking. “Perhaps there is hope for you, yet.”

Her eyebrows shot up, but her expression quickly turned into a scowl. “You’re so smug,” she said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you to come with me.”

In truth, he was glad that she did. If only because he truly enjoyed himself today. They had defeated a behemoth, just the two of them. Even through the haze of self-doubt that seemed to be a constant now in his thoughts, he could see that it was because of equal effort that they defeated the machine. He had not become a liability, even though he was missing an arm. And, with the help of an inventive Oseram creation, he even dealt the behemoth the killing blow. 

Kotallo walked over to the large rock they had been hiding behind to get their satchels. As he did, her words played over his mind. The strength to stand alone is the strength to make a stand, he thought.

It made sense, in a way, though the idea was foreign to him. Growing up in the Clan Lands meant that you were always surrounded by warriors. All Tenakth children began training with a squad at a young age. And, through the teachings of the Ten, all Tenakth grew up to understand that the whole was greater than the sum of its parts. That a group of people working together towards a common goal was more effective than trying to achieve it all on your own.

But he felt that he could not blame the man who had raised Aloy for teaching her so, if she had been an outcast all her life. If being alone was what she knew and understood. 

Kotallo contemplated this as he returned to Aloy. She had gathered the canisters and placed them in one spot as she took her turn in inspecting the resources inside the cargo container.

His thoughts were a jumbled mess and he worked through them as he and Aloy gathered their belongings and the resources they had looted from the behemoth silently. It felt like he was on the edge of discovering something.

It took him a while, but by the time they were crossing the bridge again back towards the settlement, Kotallo’s thoughts were arranged in neat and organized rows in his mind. “What he said no longer applies to you. Not fully anymore, at least,” he said to her.

Aloy whipped her head around to look up at him. “What?”

“The strength to stand alone is the strength to make a stand,” Kotallo said, holding her gaze. “You have Varl, the man that left your lands to follow you. You have Zo who respects you and cares for your well-being. And I am certain that you have many more allies scattered across the east.”

Kotallo saw her hand clench around the strap of her satchel and the tensing of her shoulders as she listened. “That is not to say that the man who raised you was wrong. I believe that he was correct, at the time,” he continued in a soft voice. “But you have changed since leaving your lands, which means that what he said no longer fully applies to you.

She sighed. “I don't get it. What’s your point?” she asked, with a frown.

“My point is that you are no longer alone,” he said.

Aloy’s eyes widened, but she stayed silent. They resumed their walk back to the settlement and Kotallo let her stew in her thoughts. 

He wondered if she would see what he was trying to tell her and wondered how different her life was now from before she left Nora lands. Perhaps she liked to do things alone, but she did not shy away from people. He’d seen her speaking to the others at the settlement, offering assistance when she could, and she offered her smiles readily to the people she was comfortable with. 

And for all her teasing about his laugh earlier, he couldn’t remember if he’d ever heard her laugh. 

It was well in the afternoon, the sun high above them and causing sweat to drip from his neck. How he wished he could tie his hair again. Perhaps it was time to consider shaving all of his hair off. It was becoming impractical to keep it at this length and a hazard, too, during battle. And shaving his hair off would be something he could do with only one hand. 

Some strands had gotten stuck to his forehead and on the sides of his face. Kotallo moved to brush them away when he noticed Aloy staring at him. 

“You’re going to get in trouble one day with all that hair,” she said to him, echoing his thoughts from earlier.

Who was she to talk? Her own mane was long enough that it reached past the middle of her back in thick waves. Her hair swayed as she walked and glowed copper-bright under the light of the afternoon sun.

His thoughts must’ve been written plainly on his face because Aloy rolled her eyes and pointed to the top of her head. “My braids keep my hair away. See?”

Kotallo huffed. “I have yet to devise a way to tie my hair back with only one hand,” he said in a deadpan tone. “I shall let you know when I do.”

She winced. “Sorry,” she said. “Sometimes I, uh, forget.”

“You sometimes forget that I have only one arm?” he asked, frowning. How was that even possible when his deformity was noticeable even from afar?

“Yeah,” she said. “Sorry if this might sound…insensitive. But, yeah, I do sometimes forget. Especially when you fight.”

But that was even more confusing. Not only were there plenty of things he could no longer do in a fight—such as wield a bow—the power behind his swings and throws were considerably less now.

Kotallo stayed silent as he thought, but Aloy misread his silence for something else.

“Sorry,” she said again, scratching her cheek. She shook her head. “This is why being alone is better sometimes.”

“Why do you say that?”

Aloy shot him a resentful look. She gestured to herself with her hand. “You must’ve noticed I’m not exactly the best at talking to people.”

The way she handled the prisoner at Sunfall flashed in his mind, so did the way that she spoke to him the first day they met as she was taking him to the Shattered Kiln. “Yes,” he said with a nod. “Your social skills leave much to be desired.” 

She rolled her eyes, but that did not deter him. “But your intentions come from a good place. And, like all skills, this can be learned and honed,” he continued. He looked her in the eye. “I would not worry.”

Aloy’s eyes widened. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve said to me, so far.”

Kotallo grunted and rubbed his mouth to keep from smiling. “I wouldn’t get used to it.”

Wasn’t he just thinking weeks ago that another fight would break out? 

Kotallo could feel a headache coming along. There were much more important things that required their attention. 

The two Oseram had completed their desired quota of bombs days ago and had begun making traps. He and Aloy had gone to many other hunts after that behemoth, though none as dangerous. The rest of their preparations were coming along nicely. The whole settlement might even be able to leave in a few more days. 

He breathed in the cool, night air, and savored the breeze that flew past. It would have been the perfect night to take a stroll or to train in peace, if it weren’t for the shouting.

Aloy clicked her tongue. “This guy needs to be taught a lesson.”

He arched his brow. “I doubt it will help.”

But truthfully, Kotallo was thinking the same. They all had an early day tomorrow. This was a waste of everyone’s time. 

“Easy now,” Varl said, his hand on Inatut’s shoulder. “You’re not thinking straight.”

Inatut shoved Varl’s hand away from him. He pointed a finger and held it near Varl’s face. “It is you who isn’t thinking straight.” He pointed the same finger at Kotallo. “We shouldn’t have to take orders from the likes of him.”

A crowd was gathering, attracted by the shouts. They had formed a loose circle around them and Kotallo was reminded of Hishim who was murdered by Tarit, who in turn was murdered by the same crowd that formed now. 

He wondered how this would go; if he and Inatut would both die today and if Kotallo would die at the hands of the Banuk, just as Tarit had died at the hands of the Carja. 

Kotallo could ignore Inatut’s words. He was not bothered at all by what he was saying. Aside from calling Kotallo a cripple, there was no truth to his words. He had not been giving orders to the Banuk or to anyone, he left that up to Varl and Aloy. Kotallo was simply filling in the gaps where he could and providing assistance when it was asked of him. It made him feel useful.

But he recognized that the Banuk warrior was merely tired of waiting around and was just looking for any excuse to pick a fight. 

Perhaps Kotallo would indulge him. But would Inatut fight a cripple?

There’s only one way to find out, he thought, taking a step forward and reaching for his spear.

“Kotallo.”

He looked over his shoulder. Aloy frowned at him and put her hands on her hips. “What are you doing?”

“I am about to, as you said, ‘teach him a lesson’.”

“But you just said it wouldn’t help.”

“Not if you do it,” he said and jerked his head in Inatut’s direction. “Those were fighting words. If these were the Clan Lands, I would need to challenge him in a single-combat duel to the death for my honor.”

Aloy narrowed her eyes. “Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re joking.” 

He smirked. “I am,” he admitted. “But I still intend to challenge him for my honor.”

She rolled her eyes. “But you’re not in the Clan Lands,” she said. “And we’ll need all the help we can get just to get out of here.”

Kotallo raised his eyebrows. “Look at you, acknowledging the need for help. You’ve come a long way since we’ve met.”

She scoffed, but she had a small smile on her face. “At ease, Aloy,” he said to her. “I will not kill him.”

“You’re not worried he’ll kill you?”

Kotallo probably should have been worried. After all, he was missing an arm and Inatut was an able-bodied warrior. But he’d seen the way the Banuk fought. Inatut was strong, but he also didn’t think about his moves very much. All he cared about was getting a hit in and knocking his opponent out. 

He hummed. “I believe I will be fine.”

Aloy shrugged. “Alright,” she said. “Varl and I will put a stop to it when it gets out of hand.”

He turned to face her fully and stepped closer to her. “Do not interfere, Aloy,” he said, his voice low. “Let this happen. I already promised you that I will not kill him.”

Aloy pursed her lips. “This is a waste of time, you know.”

“I am aware.”

“Okay,” she said, shrugging again. “Do what you have to do, I guess.”

He nodded to her and took off his spear from his shoulder. He turned around and approached Varl and Intatut. The air around them exploded with whispers and murmurs from the crowd.

Inatut barked a laugh. “What is this?” he said, gesturing to Kotallo. “You mean to fight me?”

Kotallo stepped closer. “Yes.”

The Banuk scowled. “There is no honor in fighting a cripple.”

“Are you afraid that you will lose to me, a one-armed man?”

“Afrai—” Inatut brought both of his hands to his stomach and let out a boisterous laugh. “I am not afraid,” he said and reached behind him for his own spear. “It is you who should be afraid.” 

They circled each other, Inatut twirling his spear, switching from one hand to the other as he shot Kotallo a toothy grin. Kotallo arched his brow. Did the Banuk honestly think he would be intimidated by such a display?

“Go easy on the cripple, Inatut!”

“You’re going to lose Kopilai’s favor if you lose!”

“That’d be so embarrassing!”

He felt his ears burn hot. Perhaps he wasn’t as immune to heckling as he thought he was. Kotallo breathed through his nose and tuned the crowd out as best as he could. 

Inatut was waiting for him to make the first attack. Normally, Kotallo would have waited and perhaps even taunted his opponent into making the first move. But it was already late into the night, and he was feeling confident.

Kotallo rushed him, staying low to the ground. He stepped wide to the right, then to the left, closing the distance. He took another step to the right and swung his spear, hoping to slash Inatut’s torso, but the Banuk blocked the attack. 

He jumped, his entire body flying above Inatut’s head, and brought down his spear. The point of his spear grazed Inatut’s forehead, and he stumbled backward. Kotallo rotated his body as he went down and slashed his spear on a downward arc, ripping through the front of Inatut’s armor. 

Inatut’s eyes were wide, but they quickly narrowed, and his mouth turned downwards into a scowl. He cried out before holding his spear with both hands and moved to stab Kotallo. He parried Inatut’s spear and jumped back when Inatut tried to take his spear away from him with his other hand. 

So that is your play, Kotallo thought. And it made sense. Kotallo would practically be useless without a weapon. He’d have to be careful to ensure Inatut didn’t get a hand on his spear.

He parried Inatut’s next attack and attempted to go low, but Inatut kicked out his leg and his foot hit Kotallo squarely on the cheek.

Kotallo pivoted on his left heel and swung his spear around, knocking Inatut on the back of his head. The blow was strong enough that Inatut stumbled forward and landed face-first in the dirt. Kotallo moved quickly: he put his knee on Inatut’s back and put all his weight to it. He brought the spear forward and rested the point against the Banuk’s face.

“Yield,” Kotallo growled. 

Inatut sputtered and groaned on the ground. “You’re quick as an avalanche!”

Kotallo pressed his knee harder on his back, heedless of Inatut’s shouts. “Yield,” he said again.

“Alright!” Inatut yelled, letting his spear go. It rolled on the ground away from them. “I yield, I yield!”

The crowd started to disperse almost immediately, making their way back to their respective tents. Kotallo put his spear away and slowly eased off of Inatut's back. He watched warily as Inatut stood as well, stretching his back and rolling his shoulders. 

Inatut shook his head at him, a wry smile on his face. He moved his eyes down Kotallo’s form. “We’re about the same size, how do you move so fast?”

Kotallo nodded his thanks. He gestured to Inatut. “You are also fast,” he told him. “But it is easy to predict what you will do next. You telegraph your movements."

Inatut winced. "Ah, I've been told," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "It was a good fight."

It was a quick fight, Kotallo thought, but kept it to himself. "Yes, it was,” he said, instead.

The Banuk sighed and looked over to the side where his chieftain, a woman wearing a headdress, was shaking her head at him. "Kopilai will murder me," he muttered. He turned back to Kotallo and pointed to his face. “You should have that checked by a healer.”

Kotallo arched his brow and looked pointedly at Inatut's forehead and chest, both of which were bleeding. Inatut sniggered and touched his forehead. "I suppose I should follow my own advice.”

Inatut walked away and Varl approached Kotallo with wide eyes. "I gotta admit," he said. "I thought we were going to have another, uh, incident on our hands."

Kotallo looked towards the Banuk who were gathered around Inatut. The chieftain was shouting at him, but he was merely laughing. He was surrounded by the other members of his squad, and they were snickering with him. Kotallo’s heart ached as he watched. 

"It would not have come to that,” he said quietly. He tore his gaze away from the Banuk and nodded to Varl. “I will go to the healers’ tent later to see if they have some salve.”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Varl said. “Zo will probably tend to Inatut since he's a lot more banged up than you are.” 

Kotallo smirked. "That he is."

He nodded to Varl and walked to the west exit and sat on a large rock right next to the river. He brushed his hair with his fingers and held the strands away from his face to inspect his cheek. The paint cracked on the spot where Inatut had kicked him, and he saw that a bruise was already starting to form.

“He got you good,” Aloy said, approaching from his right and crouching beside him to peer at his cheek.

He hummed in response and winced. “Yes,” he grumbled. “It was a lucky hit.”

She scoffed. “It was not a lucky hit,” she said, straightening. “It was your hair.”

Kotallo frowned. “My hair?”

“Yeah, I told you it would get you in trouble one day.”

He removed his hand and his hair fell heavily against his face. He didn't remember if it had gotten in the way earlier, but that didn't mean that it wouldn't. “I have been meaning to shave it off, but I haven't had the time.”

“You’re going to shave it off? All of it?”

Kotallo looked at her. “Yes.”

Aloy stared at his head with a frown. She pursed her lips but didn't say anything further. "What is it?" he asked.

“It just looks like it's well taken care of," she said. "It would be a shame to shave it off."

Kotallo huffed. "Didn't you just say it would become a liability in a fight?"

"Well, yeah, but—," Aloy hummed and wrapped her arms around herself. She looked away and frowned again. 

He stared at her and waited for her to speak. She only usually looked this way when their conversations steered to her upbringing. He would usually change the subject to spare her, but he didn't understand why she would look this way now. 

Kotallo sighed. "Aloy," he said. Her eyes darted back to him, but she didn't move. "Speak your mind."

Aloy hunched her shoulders and bit her lip. "I—uh," she said and shook her head. She took a deep breath. "I was thinking you wouldn't need to shave your hair if you tied it back—if I tied it back."

Kotallo's eyebrows leapt up. For a moment, he didn't know what to say.

His self-doubt reared its ugly head. Kotallo obviously wouldn't be able to tie his hair back on his own. Was she offering because she pitied him? Because he was incapable of tying back his own hair? Because he was incapable of doing anything but let it get in the way of his face? But…

She had looked away from him again, her arms still wrapped around herself. 

Aloy clicked her tongue. "Forget it—forget I said anything—"

"A moment, Aloy," he interrupted her. "Your offer is appreciated, truly."

Grooming another's hair was not uncommon with the Tenakth. In fact, it was often thought of as an intimate act. Kotallo could not recall if his parents had ever done it for him. He’d lost them when he was very young, after all. And he was quickly taught how to do it on his own by his first squad leader.

The words she'd spoken to him after they had felled the behemoth echoed in his mind. Cast out at birth, he thought. He never asked her to elaborate, it was obviously a difficult subject for her. Difficult to speak about growing up and having only one person as a companion. He didn't know why he only realized now that she'd never grown up with people her age.

This could possibly be even more difficult for her than it was for him, but she had offered anyway.

Kotallo clenched his fist. "I do not have anything to tie it back with."

Aloy's shoulders sagged. She swung her satchel off her shoulder and reached inside. When she pulled her hand out, she was holding a blue cord tie. The same kind that held her braids together. She held it up and shrugged. "I think this could work."

He shifted. "How—"

"Maybe—"

They both stopped. Kotallo gestured for her to continue. She blew out a breath. "Maybe just sit there and I'll—" she pointed to a spot behind him "—I'll do it from there."

"Alright," Kotallo said. He willed himself to breathe and relax as she approached him. He straightened his back, the urge to fidget crawled through his body. 

She disappeared behind him, and he waited with bated breath. 

Nothing happened. He could feel that she was still behind him, but she hadn't moved, and neither did he. Kotallo slowly turned his head but stopped when he saw her hand move from his periphery.

"Sorry," she said and chuckled, the sound full of nerves. "I'm ready. Uh, face forward."

Kotallo did as she asked and held his breath. She slowly ran her fingers through his hair from his temples, brushing the top of his ears. He barely suppressed the shiver that ran from his spine to the back of his neck.

Aloy flinched and pulled her hands back. "Sorry, sorry! Was that—"

"The fault was mine," he rasped. He cleared his throat and looked up at her. "Apologies, it took me by surprise."

Aloy's eyes were wide open, and she was red from her face all the way down her neck. Her hands were frozen in the air. 

"Are you alright?" he asked. 

"Fine," Aloy said, dropping her hands and placing her palms on her hips. "Do you still want to do this?"

Kotallo shot her a chiding look. "Do you?" he countered.

"Right," she said, looking distinctly sheepish. "I'm the one that offered."

He turned his body to face her. "Aloy, you don't need to force yourself. If you're uncomfortable—"

"I'm not, I promise." She shrugged. "I'm just… a little nervous, that's all."

Kotallo sighed. "So am I."

Aloy's eyebrows shot up. "You are?"

"Yes," he said, nodding his head. "We do not normally have others do our hair for us. This is—" Kotallo racked his brain, but truly couldn't remember the last time another person had done his hair. "This is the first time for me, as well. The first time in a very long time."

He could see that his admission had helped. Aloy’s shoulders sagged, and she dropped her hands so they rested at her sides. “Okay,” she said in a soft voice and nodded. “Okay.”

Kotallo was ready for the feel of her hands on his hair this time. He swallowed hard as he let her guide his head so that he was facing forward. Her fingers were light as they gathered his hair upwards, first from the front of his head, then from the back. He found himself closing his eyes and sighing.

“Enjoying yourself?” she said from behind him. He was pleased to hear that some of her nervousness had vanished from her voice.

He sighed again. “Yes.”

Aloy snorted. “You said that the Tenakth don’t normally have others do their hair,” she said. “Does that mean that there are instances where they do?”

Kotallo hummed. “Yes.”

She stopped moving her hands and chuckled. “Hey, don’t fall asleep on me.”

“I’m not,” he said with a grunt. “I will answer your question. Please continue.”

He smirked as he imagined Aloy rolling her eyes at him. He was about to tell her so, but then her hands continued their gentle movements in his hair, and he was content. “Parents would groom their children's hair and partners would groom each other's.”

“Oh. What about members of your squad? Friends?”

“Not normally, no,” he said. “Grooming one’s hair is considered to be a meditative practice. A time for soldiers to reflect in silence.”

“Am I ruining this for you, then? By talking?”

He could hear the amusement in her voice. He tried to keep any out of his own. “Yes. Very much so.”

She chuckled again, just as he knew she would. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop talking.”

The silence that followed was comfortable. There was only the babbling of water from the river, the soft chirping of insects, and the occasional whistle from the wind. It was the most peace that Kotallo had felt since coming to the east. He couldn’t help but sigh again. Doing his own hair in the past never felt this pleasurable.

But it was over too soon. “Done,” Aloy said, her hands leaving him.

Kotallo opened his eyes and relished in the lightness he felt, the breeze that tickled the back of his neck. He reached up to touch his head and leaned forward to look at his reflection in the water.

His heart seized. 

With his hair finally up and out of the way, he could see that he looked more like himself than he did since arriving in the east. But also… not. The jagged patterns on his face were painted in the wrong shade of blue, the dark leather armor he wore had none of the usual spikes, and he wore none of Hekarro’s colors. 

He was missing an arm. 

Kotallo swallowed hard. It was like looking at a stranger that looked like him but was not him. An apparition of a man that belonged somewhere else—that should have belonged somewhere else but was here instead. 

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He felt a prickling sensation behind his eyes, and he closed his mouth quickly and pursed his lips. He clenched his fist and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, Aloy’s reflection was right next to his. “Hey,” she said. “Breathe. It’s okay.”

His first inhale was so shaky it sounded like a sob. When he exhaled, it sounded like a whimper. 

“You’re okay,” she whispered. 

A stronger breeze blew past them, strong enough that it caused ripples in the water until the apparition disappeared.

“You’re okay.”

Chapter Text

“Does it still hurt?”

Kotallo’s hand stilled. He hadn’t realized that he was touching and looking at his stump until Aloy had spoken. He let his head fall back against the tree behind them and tilted his head to the right to look at her. 

Aloy had her arms wrapped around her folded legs, cheek leaning against her knee as she looked up at him. The moonlight dulled her normally bright, green eyes, turning them into a deep hazel color. He found himself staring at them, curious about the lack of pity he found there.

How could he even begin to explain the nights he felt a burning in his stump that flared outwards, as if his left arm was still whole and intact? Or the nights where it felt as if it was being crushed, like it was being buried in rubble? 

Kotallo glanced back at his stump. It wasn’t paining him now, but he had felt a prickling that felt almost like a thousand ants crawling on his skin. “It comes and goes. I try not to think about it, but…its absence is always present for me.” He shrugged with a lightness he didn’t feel and turned his attention back to her. “It’s difficult to explain.”

“I can’t claim to understand,” Aloy said beside him, her voice as soft as it had been just a few minutes ago by the river. “Only empathize.”

You’re okay, she had said to him repeatedly until Kotallo had found it in himself to rip his gaze away from his reflection and move over to the tree they were now leaning against. She stopped saying it then, but he played the words in her voice again and again in the back of his mind.

“Did—” Aloy paused.

Kotallo waited as she thought. Another breeze flew past them as she pursed her lips and fidgeted. “Nevermind,” she said, looking away and resting her chin on her knee.

“Ask your question, Aloy.”

Aloy straightened her legs and put her hands behind her on the ground. “I’m trying to exercise some tact.” She rolled her eyes when he raised his eyebrows and smirked at her.

“You’ve already piqued my curiosity, Aloy. Just speak your mind.”

She bit her lip and jerked her chin towards him. “Did we get him? In Sunfall?” she asked.

“Who?”

“The person who took your arm,” she said, her voice even softer. “I…assumed it was a person and not a machine.”

Kotallo stopped himself from closing his eyes, lest he be plagued by the images of that horrifying moment, or of the terrible pain that came afterwards. You’re okay, the Aloy in his mind assured him.

He forced himself to look into her eyes. “It was a person, yes. But I didn’t lose my arm in Sunfall,” he said.

He hadn’t spoken of this to anyone, he realized. From the way that Aloy had asked, he wondered if everyone else assumed that he had lost his arm during his brief imprisonment in Sunfall. Vanasha, the agent, seemed to have an idea, or at least guessed at it, but Kotallo doubted that even she knew exactly how it happened.

“I didn’t lose my arm in Sunfall. And I didn’t lose it to a Carja. I—” Kotallo paused, licking his lips. His mouth felt dry and there was a lump lodged in his throat. He swallowed and willed it to go away. 

“It’s okay,” Aloy whispered. “You don’t have to tell me.”

He breathed through the tightening of his chest. You’re okay, he thought, flexing his fingers to fight the numbness setting in. There was nothing here to hurt him anymore. It was done. It was in the past. You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.

“I lost my arm trying to avenge my chief and the other marshals,” Kotallo said. His next breath went in easier and he felt his shoulders sag on the exhale. 

“What was he like?” Aloy asked. “Your chief.”

He thought about Hekarro as the clan knew him: his prowess on the field, his deep commanding voice, his infinite wisdom. He thought of the moments the marshals took turns playing against him, thought about how he liked to tease Chekkatah, or urge Javveh to take leave, how they all teased him about not taking his own advice and taking leave.  

The last one made him chuckle, despite his aching heart. “He had a wicked sense of humor,” he said. “And none of us could beat him at Strike.”

“Huh. That’s…unexpected.”

He frowned at Aloy. “Why is that?”

She shrugged. “I’ve heard the Carja talk about Hekarro. They said he was a monster.”

Kotallo scoffed. “Of course they would say that.” He arched his brow at her. “They also say the Tenakth drink the blood of their enemies.”

She smirked at him. “Maybe you just haven’t had the chance. We’ve been fighting a lot of machines. Do the Tenakth drink machine oil, too?”

Kotallo shook his head at her ridiculousness. “We were at Sunfall, you and I. I could have done it, then.”

“Maybe you just didn’t have the time,” she fired back, grinning.

He found himself smiling. “It is true that Hekarro was fearsome—the most fearsome warrior that tribe had ever seen. But he was also compassionate, kind, merciful.” 

Too merciful, maybe, Kotallo thought, thinking of Regalla. Not for the first time, he wondered if things might’ve been different if Hekarro hadn’t spared her. He truly believed Tekotteh would not have had the guts to go after the throne directly. It had been Regalla’s rebellion that had paved the way for him.

“What does it mean to be a Marshal?” Aloy asked. She was smiling, too, and her eyes were wide with attentiveness. 

“We serve as peacekeepers and enforcers of the Chief’s will,” he explained, straightening with pride that he, frankly, shouldn’t be feeling. It wasn’t as if he could still be called a Marshal. 

Aloy raised an eyebrow. “Enforcers, huh?”

“And peacekeepers,” he said with a smirk. “We would travel the clan lands, investigate and resolve disputes. Sometimes we’d dole out punishments, if there was a need.”

“And Strike? What’s that?”

“It is a game my people like to play. It helps one think strategically. Hones the mind for tactics.”

Aloy wrinkled her nose. “Somehow that still sounds like training.”

He frowned at her. “Training is a good way to pass the time.”

She snorted. “Only you would say that.”

Kotallo gave her a chiding look.  “Do not pretend you do not enjoy training as I do,” he said. He’d seen the way she relished a successful hunt, an arrow striking true. There were days when she woke up earlier than he did and spent the early hours training with the dummies set up in the settlement. 

“Yeah, you’re right, I do,” she said, shrugging. Aloy wrapped her arms around her legs again and shot him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I never had the chance to play when I was a kid. All I really knew to do was train, so that’s all I ever did.”

Kotallo had heard the Carja at the settlement liken Aloy to a ray of light, providing hope amidst the darkness. He tended to agree with their assessment. There was not a day that he didn’t witness Aloy’s compassion for others and her willingness to provide assistance. 

For all that he teased her, Aloy had a way with people. It was easy to forget she had been raised an outcast.

Aloy had placed her chin on top of her knee. She was staring into the distance, seemingly at nothing.

“Aloy.”

Her eyes snapped to his. “What?”

Kotallo pursed his lips. Would she tell him more about her story if he asked? He had come close before, but had always stopped because of the far-away look she would get in her eyes. 

“Why would the Nora shun a baby?”

Aloy sighed and lay her forehead on her knee so that her face was hidden from him. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice muffled.

“Rost never told you?”

She pressed her cheek on her knee, tilting her head in his direction. “He didn’t know. Said the Matriarchs never told him and ordered him not to ask. I figured it out, anyway. The Nora weren’t shy about letting me hear exactly what they thought of me, even when I was a child,” she said, rolling her eyes. “They called me ‘motherless’.”

“I don’t understand,” Kotallo said, his forehead creased as he struggled to make sense of what she said. “They made you an outcast because you didn’t have a mother?”

Aloy nodded. “The Nora worship All-Mother, so they hold motherhood sacred above all else. I didn't have one, so they cast me out.”

But how could that be? All children had mothers. “Do you mean that your mother died in childbirth?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I knew of other children who had lost their mothers that way, but they weren’t outcasts.”

Aloy fiddled with a loose thread in the twine tied around her calf. She was breathing deeply and Kotallo thought for a moment that he didn’t need to know. It obviously pained her to talk about it. If it was anything like the pain he felt when he thought of his own circumstances, he’d rather not know. But she spoke before he could say anything.

“The Nora have a rite of passage called ‘The Proving’, held every year. Even outcasts are allowed to join. Those who pass become braves. But the winner gets a boon from the Matriarchs. I pestered Rost to train me when I found out. I think I was six.” Aloy straightened and rubbed her face. “‘Whatever it takes’, I used to tell him. ‘Whatever it takes, I’ll win the Proving’.”

“You were going to ask the Matriarchs to tell you about your birth. About your mother.”

“Yep,” she said, smacking her lips at the end.

It explained how Aloy became such a formidable warrior, if all she did since she was six was train. It wasn’t so different from Tenakth children. Six-years-old was when he himself had begun his training. They were a tribe of warriors and everyone was expected to do their part. So Tenakth children trained because it was the way of their people, not because they had a personal mission. 

Kotallo had seen Aloy’s determination and witnessed her battle prowess firsthand. He couldn’t imagine her losing. “You won,” he said. 

Aloy huffed. “I did. But that was the day the Carja came,” she said, her expression closed off. “They snuck in, killed a lot of braves. We pushed them back, somehow. But I was the only one to make it out of The Proving alive. 

“Was that when—”

“Yeah,” she said softly. Then she chuckled, the sound so bitter it made him clench his teeth. “I never even asked for my boon. I just wanted to go after the monster who killed him.”

“Is that—” Kotallo paused as he recalled what little Varl had told him. “Is that when you volunteered to become a seeker?”

“I didn’t even know what that was until after they made me one,” she said. “Teersa—one of the Matriarchs—managed to convince the others to make me a seeker. Told them the Goddess wanted me to seek a way to end the war, or at least to stop it from ever reaching Sacred Lands again.”

“She didn’t tell the others of your real intentions?”

Aloy shook her head. “Teersa said that if the other Matriarchs knew, they’d make me a Death-seeker, instead. She said Rost wouldn’t have wanted it for me. She didn't tell me why, of course. Said we could talk about it when I go back.” She shrugged and sighed. “If I go back,” she muttered.

Kotallo struggled to understand what Aloy had revealed to him. How could anyone not have a mother? Perhaps her mother had abandoned her, or had committed a crime the Nora decided to pass on to Aloy. But whatever the reason was, it was inexcusable to make a newborn an outcast. The Tenakth took orphaned children in, cared for them and trained them. To cast out an infant just because they didn’t have a mother? It was incredibly cruel and unheard of. 

And then to lose the one who raised her—the one person she cared for—on the day she was meant to solve the greatest mystery of her life?

“He was there at Sunfall, the day we met,” Aloy said, breaking his thoughts.

“The man who killed Rost?”

Aloy nodded. “He’d already left when I went back and I got caught trying to follow him.” She frowned. “I’d probably be dead, if it weren’t for Varl.”

Kotallo could see it clearly in his mind. That moment in the courtyard in Sunfall where Aloy stood in the midst of the swirling chaos of Carja soldiers and their prisoners. He had pulled her away, so focused on escaping the city. But now he understood that if he hadn’t, she would’ve charged at her target without a second thought to her own life.

She was looking at him now from the corner of her eye. Gauging his reaction, perhaps. Her face was carefully blank, as if she wanted him to know that she didn’t care what he thought. Except her fists were clenched and her curled up posture made her look vulnerable. 

Kotallo put his palm on the ground and leaned slightly towards her, pinning her with his gaze. “They were wrong to shun you.”

Aloy sighed and closed her eyes. She looked like she could be sleeping except for the shuddery breaths that puffed out from her mouth. “I know,” she whispered. “I know.”

“Good,” he said with a nod. “And the next time you see him, you will tell me.”

She opened her eyes. “What?”

“The next time you encounter the man who killed Rost, tell me.”

“Why?”

“Because I will help you exact your vengeance.”

Aloy straightened and furrowed her eyebrows. “Why?”

Why, indeed, Kotallo thought. His mind became muddled with the myriad of thoughts rushing through. He took a breath and shot her a smirk. “What else am I to do after we’ve relocated the settlement?”

She stared at him, then snorted. “Yeah, okay,” she said. Then a smile broke out on her face. “You help me kill Helis, and I’ll help you kill the bastard that killed Hekarro.”

He winced and shook his head. “I wouldn’t kill him now, even if I had the chance.”

“Why not?”

“One becomes chief after winning in a single-combat challenge against the current chief,” Kotallo explained.

“Okay,” Aloy said slowly, her forehead creased. “And you don’t want to be chief…?”

Kotallo scoffed. “The entire tribe would revolt if that were to happen.”

“What? Why?”

He glared at her but she was looking at him curiously, her eyes devoid of any mocking he expected to find there. “The Tenakth respect strength,” he said. He raised his eyebrows at her, his ears burning hot. He gestured roughly to his stump with his hand and enunciated his next words.  “I am maimed.”

Aloy narrowed her eyes. She held up her hand. “Are you telling me that your people won’t respect you because you lost your arm trying to kill the person who murdered your chief?”

They already don't, he thought, feeling a ball of shame settle in the bottom of his stomach.

“So, what, they think you’re weak now?”

Kotallo sighed, but nodded.

She took a deep breath and opened her mouth. Then she looked away and rubbed her face. She did this twice more before throwing up her hands. “You know what? I’m not going to say anything.”

Kotallo smiled despite himself. She was growing redder by the second. “Why not?”

“I’m trying to exercise some tact.”

“Perhaps you should learn how to control your facial expressions, first. You make quite a sight.”

But Aloy wasn’t listening. She was shaking her head, her jaw clenched. “Tribes,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Tribes,” she repeated through gritted teeth. She looked him in the eye, her eyes flashing. “You know they’re wrong, right?”

Warmth spread through his chest. “Aloy—”

“They’re wrong,” she insisted, leaning closer. “If the Nora were wrong to shun me for being motherless, then the Tenakth are wrong to think you’re weak just because you lost your arm.”

“You know it isn’t that simple.”

Aloy slapped her knee. “You escaped Sunfall.”

“With your help.”

“You beat two stalkers.”

“Also with your help.”

“You defeated a behemoth!”

Kotallo shot her an exasperated look. “Aloy—”

She rubbed her nose and looked away from him. He couldn’t see the face she was making, but her shoulders were tense and she was breathing deeply. She stood up after a few breaths. “I’m going to sleep,” she said and started walking away.

His eyebrows rose. “Alright,” he said slowly. “A moment before you go.”

Aloy turned, her face still red, eyebrows still knitted together. Kotallo found that he didn’t know what to say. This had been the first time he confided in someone outside of their tribe, after everything awful that had happened to him. It surprised him how refreshing it was to have someone be angry on his behalf.

And she had told him he wasn’t weak; that the Tenakth were wrong to think so. It was a strange concept to think about. Could he believe her? Afterall, Aloy was a strong warrior herself. And she didn't know how to mince words. 

Strange woman, he thought.

“Were you going to say something?” Aloy asked, arms crossed in front of her. 

Kotallo wanted to laugh at the mix of exasperation and impatience marring her face, but knew that she wouldn’t appreciate it. He opened his mouth but was at a loss. What could he say to the woman who had shown him nothing but kindness since they met? What could he say to accurately express the awe he felt that she even had any kindness to give when there had been a lack of such in her own life? 

He stood up and put his fist to his chest. “You have my thanks, Aloy.”

“Okay. I don’t know what you’re thanking me for. But, uh, I guess you’re welcome,” she said, then pointed towards the settlement with her thumb. “I’m gonna go.”

He nodded. “Sleep well.”

Kotallo watched her go until she disappeared into the camp, their conversation playing in his mind as well as other memories. He recalled the crushing weight in his chest when his tribesmen stared and whispered as they took sight of him. It had only happened twice: as he was leaving the Grove, and when he arrived at Scalding Spear.

He couldn’t fathom how one could survive years of that kind of treatment. He couldn’t imagine the kind of pain that could cause a child. And all because she didn’t have a mother?

The offer to assist Aloy in her quest for revenge was genuine, though it may have seemed impulsive on his part. He couldn’t help her with her tribe, but he could help her with this. Besides, helping her might help him make peace with the fact that he’d never get his own revenge. And if she was able to go back to her home in the Nora Sacred Lands after her mission, then it might also help him make peace with the fact that he’ll never see the Clan Lands again.

Kotallo took a deep breath and walked towards the river. His reflection was just as it was when he saw it earlier: wrong paint color, wrong armor, wrong number of arms. But he didn’t feel like he was suffocating, he didn’t feel like he was drowning. He felt…perhaps not okay. But closer to it than he had been in a long time.

He didn’t regret his actions that led to him losing his arm. There was no way he would not have tried to kill Tekotteh, though it would not have been the wisest of decisions had he succeeded. The Tenakth, for all their pride, couldn’t afford to deal with a power vacuum in the middle of a war.

He’d been floundering ever since coming east. But now he breathed easier. Perhaps it was because he’d found something worthwhile to do. After they relocated to Pitchcliff, he’d go with Aloy to wherever she needed to go to kill the man who’d murdered Rost. If he was lucky, he’d find another mission to go on when it was over.

Kotallo didn’t know how much time he spent staring at his reflection, getting used to the appearance of the man that stared back at him. But when he felt his eyes start to droop, he stood up and walked back towards the settlement.

The night was growing darker, clouds began to swirl slowly in front of the moon, blocking its light. He nodded to the guards as he passed and lost himself in his plans for tomorrow as he made his way inside. If they could get the traps and provisions completed in two days, they could very well start relocating that same night. But would it be wiser to wait until the next night to ensure everyone had a chance to truly rest? After all, they had civilians with them and they’d still have to take out the guards at the Unflinching Watch. He’d have to ask Zo what she thought and he’d have to talk to Kopilai to—

Kotallo stopped. The wind picked up, blowing leaves and rattling wood. The light from the torches flickered, making the shadows on the ground dance violently. But amidst the howling wind, he could hear something faint.

Something’s not right, he thought as his heart began to race. He jogged towards the south exit where two Carja were standing guard, chatting merrily. Their eyes widened when they took notice of him and quieted. 

“Do you hear that?” Kotallo asked, scanning the dark horizon.

“Hear what?”

Kotallo looked up just in time to see the clouds drift away to make way for the moonlight. When he looked back to the far distance, his heart dropped. 

Someone was running towards the settlement. As they grew closer, Kotallo could see that their hands were bound. Past them, a group wearing red armor was running not far behind. 

Kotallo grabbed his spear and looked at one of the guards. “You! Wake the settlement! And fetch Aloy and Varl!”

The guard quickly ran inside and the other drew his sword. “What’s wrong?”

Kotallo pointed his spear towards the figure in the distance. “We’ve been found.”

The Banuk were the first to wake. Kopilai ran towards him, her werak in tow. Her eyes were wide and alert and she held her spear in her hand. “What’s happening?”

Kotallo turned to her. “I need Inatut and Aluki.”

“Aluki? Why—”

“She’s your fastest runner, I need her.”

Kopilai’s eyes narrowed as she stared at Kotallo appraisingly. He tensed as he waited for her response. He would’ve found a more diplomatic way to phrase his request, but they had no time!

She nodded. “Very well,” she said and snapped her fingers. “Inatut! Aluki!”

Aluki approached with a frown on her face. Inatut walked beside her. “People instead of machines?” she said, adjusting her large fur headdress.

Inatut nudged her with his elbow. “A hunt is a hunt,” he said, grinning while bouncing on his heels.

Kotallo turned back to Kopilai. “We need to be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice.”

“I’ll handle it.”

He nodded and looked at Inatut and Aluki. Both were brandishing their spears, eyes wide. They hollered and shrieked into the air, stomping the ground with their feet and slapping their thighs and arms.

The blood rushing in Kotallo’s ears became a thundering roar as a shot of adrenaline coursed through him. His heart became a swinging mallet, pounding almost painfully against his chest. Fire engulfed his skin despite the cool air.

“On me,” he growled.

They ran against the wind, howling and yelling towards the Carja soldiers. Kotallo counted ten. The Shattered Kiln was right in the middle of Sunfall and the Unflinching Watch. The three of them would have to be quick in case some of them split off. 

“Help! Help!” the bound man continued to yell, slowing down to meet them. He was wearing little more than rags and his feet were bare and blistered. 

“Run to the settlement!” Kotallo yelled back, sidestepping the prisoner without breaking speed. 

The Carja soldiers slowed down to a stop. Some drew their swords, others reached for their spears. One of them barked something to the others and, as Kotallo predicted, two of them broke off from the group and started running towards the east.

“Aluki!” he yelled, pointing at them with his spear.

“On it!”

He turned to Inatut. “Leave none alive!”

Inatut’s eyes twinkled. “That was always the plan!”

Kotallo reached their targets first. He rushed at them, dodging their weapons, and slashed to the left. Three of them cried out, blood gushing through their armor. He slashed to the right and, without stopping, turned on his heel twice, bringing his spear around in two full arcs. 

The three soldiers fell where they stood. Kotallo saw the glint of metal to his right and he dodged just in time before another soldier brought his sword down on him. He kicked the soldier on his side and moved to stab him with his spear, but an arrow whizzed past him and embedded itself on the soldier’s neck.

Aloy stood behind him, nocking another arrow. The remaining soldier had Inatut in a headlock, and she shot him dead. 

Inatut sat up and shook off the body of the soldier. He laughed, his mouth bloody. “Ha! Too easy!” He turned to Kotallo and pointed at his spear. “You have to teach me that move.”

A whistle sounded to their left. Kotallo looked up and saw Aluki approaching from a distance. She raised her hand, holding up two cracked Carja helmets by their red plumes. 

Two, six, Kotallo counted, scanning the dead bodies. Eight, nine—nine?

He looked around frantically. There! One of the soldiers was running towards Sunfall. Kotallo gripped his spear and raised it overhead. He ran and tossed his spear as far as he could, but the soldier was too far!

“Aloy!” he yelled, turning back to her.

She ran to him, dropping her shortbow and bringing out a longbow that had spikes jutting out from the grip. Her face hardened as she aimed. 

“Come on, come o—”

Kotallo silenced Inatut with a look as Aloy released the string. The arrow flew at high-speed and he waited with bated breath, hearing nothing but the sound of his own pulse.

The arrow hit the soldier’s back, and he stumbled, but he was still running! Aloy quickly drew another arrow.

“Hurry, Aloy!” Kotallo hissed.

“Shut up!” she yelled at him and released the string a second time. 

But the arrow fell short of its mark. The soldier had gone too far and he continued running in the direction of Sunfall.

Kotallo and Aloy stared at each other, their chests heaving. Her eyes wide, he saw that she had come to the same conclusion he had: they had to leave.

They had to leave now.

Chapter Text

A cacophony of shouts filled the Shattered Kiln. The Oseram were running to and fro, carrying supplies and loading them onto carts. The Carja were stowing away their tents, their erratic movements breaking pieces of pottery and dropping various cookware so they clattered on the ground. The Banuks’ voices carried over the wind as they howled and chanted; Inatut’s voice loudest of them all. The shrieks of a crying child added to the overwhelming sense of panic.

It was almost difficult to hear Varl and Kopilai over the chaos.

“You want to do what?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

There was no time to argue, and Kotallo’s patience was wearing thin. He forced himself to take a deep breath. “We have, perhaps, an hour before the Carja swarm this settlement. And we cannot get caught in between the soldiers from Sunfall and the soldiers at the Unflinching Watch,” he said, looking both in the eye. “If you two have a better suggestion, I urge you to speak now.”

Varl put his hands on his hips and shook his head. Kopilai frowned even further. “Fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “What do you need?”

Kotallo turned to Varl. “Everyone needs to be prepared to leave as soon as possible, not more than twenty minutes. And remember, we now have thirty-eight people in the settlement.”

Kopilai clicked her tongue. “That Carja is the reason we have to leave in a hurry,” she spat.

“He’s under our protection now,” Kotallo said in a firm voice. “You command the majority of our warriors. I leave it up to you to lead them and the rest to the tower.”

Kopilai scoffed and shook her head. “You’re not going to order any of my fighters to come with you this time?” she asked with an arched brow.

The Ten grant him patience, Kotallo thought, clenching his fist. He should’ve expected this, but he had hoped Kopilai would have the sense to curb her pride, even if only temporarily. This wasn’t the time! “That was a request, and no, I will not be needing any of your fighters for this. You’ll need all of them to defend everyone while you leave this camp.”

“You don’t plan on going alone, do you?” Varl asked, his eyes wide. “We counted at least ten soldiers stationed there last time. Who knows how many more there are now?”

“I don’t plan on going alone,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m bringing Aloy with me.” 

If I can find her, he thought angrily, scanning and hoping he’d spot her red hair somewhere behind them amongst the people. She had disappeared without a word almost as soon as they entered the settlement.

Varl rubbed a hand on his face. “Just the two of you?”

He nodded. “We’ve got this.” Kotallo reached up to grasp Varl’s arm. “Remember: thirty-eight people.”

Varl nodded. “You can count on me.”

Kotallo turned to Kopilai. She uncrossed her arms. “You cannot possibly take on that many soldiers, even if you have Aloy with you. At least take Inatut again, or Aluki.”

“You will need all of your fighters to defend the people,” he said, shaking his head. “Have faith that Aloy and I will see this through.”

He would need to have faith in the two of them, too. That they would be able to herd the people away from the camp and after them to the east before the Carja arrived. 

Kotallo couldn’t dismiss them, they weren’t his to command. But they were running out of time, and the sooner he found Aloy, the sooner they could get going! “Meet us there as soon as you can. I need to find Aloy,” he said before he turned away, without waiting for a response. 

He didn’t have to look far. Aloy was already standing next to the south exit, scanning her surroundings. She threw up both of her hands, her shoulders rising in an exaggerated shrug as soon as their eyes met. As if I was the one who disappeared, he thought.

Kotallo jogged towards her, dodging and sidestepping people as he went. “Where have you been?” he hissed at her.

She adjusted the bow on her back. “We’re running out of time, let’s go!”

They ran as fast as they could without getting winded. They’d need all their strength later to take out the soldiers at the watchtower, and afterwards, too. 

It was going to be a long night.

They had already decided a few days ago to go along the road rather than up the rocks. Sneaking past shell-walkers with more than thirty people would be difficult, not to mention their carts wouldn’t be able to travel uphill, and they discovered a scrapper site near the area, too. It might be riskier traveling along the road, but at least the machines they would come across wouldn’t be as dangerous, and they would be able to bring the carts easier that way.

Getting to the Unflinching Watch was easy. It was getting inside that would be difficult.

The pathway to the entrance of the tower was long and narrow. It would eventually lead upward, past the rocky steps, and into the towering wooden doors of the main entrance. He and Aloy approached slowly once they weren’t panting as hard from sprinting all the way. They hid behind the rocks and walked unseen in the shadows.

“Two up ahead by the gate,” Aloy whispered to him as she ducked behind the wall of rock beside him. Kotallo suddenly wished he had had the foresight to teach her the basic Tenakth hand signals during the past week. “I can’t shoot at them. There are three guards above facing this way.”

He could see the three guards she spoke of, standing by the balustrade. They were a bit spread out, about four feet away from each other. Light illuminated their backs, casting shadows on the ground below. They would have to get the two by the gate to approach the blindspot next to the tower. 

Kotallo picked up a rock half the size of his palm and hurled it against the stone wall of the tower, where the shadows were darkest. They both approached the sound, and as they passed, Kotallo grabbed one of them and snapped the guard’s neck. Aloy, however, tripped the other guard so he fell forwards into her spear. 

He nodded at her and started walking towards the entrance when she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Wait,” she said and pulled him towards the wall where he had thrown the rock. “I have an idea.”

“I’m listening,” he said.

Aloy took a deep breath. “There are thirteen soldiers left inside. Five at the very top and eight on the second floor,” she said and placed her hand on the wall. “I can climb up along the wall and take the guards up top and meet you on the second floor when I’ve taken them out.”

“I—”

“I can’t explain how I know—or maybe I can, but later,” she said, looking away from him with a frown. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this.”

Kotallo frowned, as well. He had been about to say that he trusted her. “I do,” he said instead, and watched as her eyebrows rose. “I will handle the eight soldiers on the second floor. After you’ve taken out the five at the top of the tower, it is possible that a survivor will try to light the signal fire. You must stay there and ensure that that doesn’t happen.”

“Right, okay,” Aloy said slowly, blinking up at him. She shrugged. “See you inside, then.”

He watched her disappear from behind the curved wall before picking up two rocks and putting them inside his pocket. Then he grabbed his spear and made his way to the entrance. 

Kotallo ducked behind one of the doors and peeked inside to the right. There was a guard just at the base of the stairs and another two at the top to the left of it, standing by a wooden door. He looked up: the guards at the top of the tower would be able to spot him if he took out the second guard at the top of the stairs. But he wasn’t worried. Aloy would have handled them by then.

He closed his eyes and welcomed the pounding in his chest and the blood rushing through his ears. The Ten dared it all, he thought, opening his eyes and recalling the Vision at the Grove.

He ran inside as fast as he could and rushed towards the guard at the base of the stairs, piercing him through the chest just as he looked up. The guard’s metal armor clanged against stone as he fell and Kotallo quickly climbed the stairs and rushed headlong towards the next soldier.

Kotallo lunged at him and stabbed him in the throat as they fell on the ground with his knees on the soldier’s chest. The other one tried to bring down his sword on Kotallo, but he swung out his leg, kicking at the guard’s feet from under him and stabbed him when he fell. Another loud clang echoed through the stone walls. Five left, but he was making too much noise!

He looked up just in time to see one of the soldiers at the top of the tower aiming an arrow at him. He moved to run but stopped when the soldier suddenly disappeared behind the wall. Good, he thought.

Kotallo stood and pressed his ear against the wooden door. There were two—maybe three soldiers inside. He kicked the door three times and stepped to the side. 

He pierced the unprotected head of the first soldier that appeared and kicked his torso to free his spear. Two of them scrambled for their weapons, but the third had his sword ready and swung at Kotallo, catching him on his left thigh. 

Kotallo bared his teeth and rushed at him, parrying the guard’s attack and retracting his hand to hit the side of the guard’s head with the butt of his spear. He twirled his spear so that it pointed downwards and stabbed the guard through the chest.

The remaining guards at the far side of the room slowly lowered their swords. “Peace,” one of them said, his voice shaking. “We surrender.”

Kotallo clicked his tongue. “Of course you do,” he said, scanning the room. There was another soldier sitting on one of the chairs, his head resting on the table that had five steins of ale on top. That’s all of them, he thought before turning back to the two guards on their knees “Kick your weapons towards me and give me the key to this room.”

They threw him a set of keys attached to a metal ring and after he had locked the three guards in, Kotallo climbed up the steps to the tower. As he did, he was hit with the memory of meeting Aloy for the first time at the sight of the bloodied bodies slumped against stone and wood. When he reached the top, he saw her standing by the balustrade looking to the west.

She seemed well, no visible injuries and looking as if she hadn’t just taken out a handful of Carja soldiers on her own. The nearby campfire made her long hair glow as it swayed lightly with the wind.

“Did they make it out?” he asked, feeling the last of his adrenaline fade away and his heart slow. 

Aloy nodded. “Yeah, I think so.” She turned her head to look at him, the golden flecks in her green eyes more visible than usual in this lighting. “You get them all?”

He arched his brow at her. “Was there any doubt?”

“Well—,” she stopped, licking her lips and dropping a smirk. “Nevermind.”

“Being tactful is not in your nature, Aloy,” Kotallo said, shaking his head. “Just speak your mind.”

She scoffed. “I was going to say that you let one escape earlier. But I thought—,” she shrugged. “I thought it might be too much.”

“I’m no stranger to heckling. It’s normal amongst squadmates,” he said, smirking at her. “And may I remind you, it was your arrow that missed.”

“Hey, I didn’t miss the first time. And you couldn’t expect me to make that shot, not when he was already too far,” Aloy said, grinning up at him.

Kotallo was hit with a sense of nostalgia, his heart fluttering in his chest. He had teased and joked around with the marshals like this, too, during joint missions or even when they were just running drills in the training courtyard at the Grove. He had been pleasantly surprised that he was able to find a similar sense of camaraderie here in the east, but there were moments, like now, where it only increased his longing. 

Kotallo sighed. “I didn’t kill all of them. Three are locked in a room below.”

Aloy hummed, her grin vanishing as she looked at his face. He fought the urge to squirm under her scrutiny, and foolishly wondered if her rumored second sight could see through people’s thoughts as well. Though he supposed there wasn’t anything left to hide from her. She’d already seen him at his worst, and he’d already entrusted her with some of his painful past earlier.

Aloy glanced down and nodded to his thigh. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing more than a scratch,” he said. He barely felt the wound, though it chafed against the pants he wore.

She hummed again and reached into one of the small leather pouches attached to her belt. “Here,” she said, holding out her hand. “Medicinal berries to take the edge off.”

Kotallo nodded and gratefully took them from her, his fingers brushing her soft palm. He winced at the bitterness hitting his tongue and swallowed. 

“So, what now?” Aloy asked.

“Now, we wa—”

“Kotallo!”

They leaned over the balustrade. Aluki was standing below them, her hands on her knees as she panted, sweat dripping from her brow. She pointed a finger to the west. “They’re coming!” she shouted.

“Wh—,” Kotallo looked up and turned his gaze towards the Shattered Kiln. He froze, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe.

Even under the waning moon, there was no mistaking the dots of red that were steadily moving closer in their direction. They had all feared that Sunfall would send soldiers to the settlement, but it didn’t look as if they went there at all, based on their trajectory. They hadn’t expected them to follow! And the soldiers they assembled—there were too many! From this distance, it looked like they had sent an entire platoon!

Aloy turned to him, her eyes wide. “Shit.”

Kotallo couldn’t hear himself think over the shouts.

He and Aloy had gone down to meet with the rest of their motley crew. They gathered right in front of the pathway in front of the Unflinching Watch. The civilians huddled together against the rocks with the carts that held their supplies and the ailing. Some were crying while they held each other. Others were silent, gazing at nothing. Terror was written all over their faces.

The rest of them were embroiled in a screaming match that grated on Kotallo’s nerves.

“I say we fight,” Inatut said, stepping forward from the werak to stand beside Kopilai. “The Banuk aren’t afraid of the Carja.”

“But not everyone can fight,” Zo said, worry clouding her features as she looked to Varl.

Varl took her hand. “What if we just kept going?”

“Run away? The Banuk—”

“Stand down, you fool,” Kopilai said, smacking Inatut on the back of his head. “We wouldn’t get very far,” she said, glancing at the civilians. “They’d catch up to us, eventually.”

“What if some of us stayed and bought the others time?”

“Varl—”

Kotallo tuned them out and turned around. He trained his gaze towards the narrow pathway that interrupted the towering mountain range. Then he looked at the mountain range. It was so tall that it was difficult to see above it. The Carja soldiers hadn’t broken off from the path they were on, which means they might still be able to use the back entrance near the scrapper site if his plan didn’t work. 

“Kotallo.”

He turned at the sound of his name. Everyone had fallen silent. They were staring at him, waiting for him to speak. Even the civilians had turned their attention to him.

Aloy moved a step closer to him. “You’re thinking hard. Got any ideas?”

Kotallo breathed out slowly. Kopilai was right: they couldn’t run. They had too many civilians with them, too many who wouldn’t even be able to pick up a weapon. They wouldn’t get very far. Leaving others to fight while the others ran wasn’t a viable option, either. They had no chance of winning if they fought the Carja head-on. And even if they were able to buy the others time, it would leave them unprotected from machines and other enemies the rest of the way to Pitchcliff. 

The risks of his plan might be too great, but what other choice did they have?

He approached them, looking at them one-by-one, and pointed his finger to the ground. “We make our stand here.”

Inatut grinned and pumped his fist in the air. “Yes!”

Kopilai glared at Inatut before looking skeptically at Kotallo. “And how do you propose we win against a platoon of soldiers, hmm?” she said.

Kotallo pointed to the west, just before the fork in the road. “We’ll set up traps there and lead them to that spot—” he moved his hand upwards so that he was pointing to the mountain range “—and station our best archer there to trigger the traps.” He looked pointedly at Aloy and she nodded to him.

He moved towards the opening of the pathway. “Any surviving Carja will have to get through here to get inside the tower. This pathway will form a funnel, which means they won’t be able to storm in all at once.” He pointed to the top of the tower. “We’ll place archers there, firing three arrows at a time—” he walked out and pointed to a huge rock a few steps past where the civilians were all huddled, across the road leading to the other side of the river “—and the rest of our warriors will lie in wait there and corner them in when the time is right.”

He turned his gaze back to them. “With any luck, the Carja might think we have them outnumbered.”

A mix of shock and skepticism greeted him. None of them spoke as they each turned their heads, looking to the places and spots Kotallo pointed to earlier. He could see the gears turning in their minds as he waited. One-by-one they looked back at him, and he could see the exact moment they realized the truth of it all.

It was their best shot.

But it was Kopilai’s reaction that worried him the most. She was the leader of her own small group, the group that had the most warriors. It wouldn’t surprise him if she objected to the plan for the sole reason of pride. 

Kopilai clicked her tongue and placed her hands on her hips. “I don’t like it, but it’s the only plan we have that makes sense,” she said. She sighed then pinned him with a hard stare. “My werak is yours to command.” She raised a finger and wagged it in front of her.  “But only for tonight.”

Relief made his shoulders relax a fraction. “Just for tonight,” Kotallo said. “I leave it to you to choose which of your hunters to place at the top of the tower and which ones will stay down here.”

“And what of the others?” Zo asked softly, her hand sweeping towards the civilians. “The ones who can’t fight?”

He walked toward her and put his hand on her shoulder. “They can wait inside the tower where it’s safe.” He lowered his voice. “There is a back entrance, one that leads to the path where Aloy and I encountered the Cauldron.” 

Zo’s eyes widened and she grasped his wrist. “Aloy was wounded there. It wouldn’t be safe for us. Even with all of our fighters, we wouldn’t be able to protect everyone.”

“I know. We’ll use it as a last resort,” Kotallo said, squeezing her shoulder, hoping it would come off as reassuring. “But it won’t come to that.”

Kotallo scanned the civilians until he found the two he was looking for. “Vashad. Omas,” he said. 

The two Carjas’ eyes widened. “We’re not fighters,” Vashad said, fiddling with the red scarf around his neck. 

“I know. But I’ll need you two to set up the traps,” Kotallo said, then looked at Varl. “I’ll need you up at that tower.”

“You got it,” Varl replied. 

He nodded, then looked to Aloy. “Aloy—”

“Up the mountain. Trigger the traps,” she said, smirking. “I heard you the first time.”

Despite the gravity of their situation, he couldn’t help but smile at her confidence. “I was going to say ‘don’t miss’.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I won’t,” she said before jogging up the path.

“Where’s Varga?” Kotallo asked. 

Varga stepped from behind Burgrend with her hand timidly raised, but Burgrend put a firm hand on her shoulder. “Now, hold on,” he said, his thick mustache twitching. “My girl isn’t a fighter, either.”

“Dad—”

“I said no.”

“I wasn’t going to ask Varga to fight,” he said, walking towards them. “I just need to borrow her prototypes.”

Varga laughed and clapped her hands together. “Which ones? Actually, you know what? Take all of them!”

“You have my thanks,” he said, smiling at her enthusiasm.

It wasn’t a foolproof plan. The Ten knew it was going to take a miracle for seventeen warriors to win against a platoon of trained and heavily armed soldiers. But that didn’t mean they didn’t have a fighting chance. And if they won and lived, it will be in victory. If they lost, or if he died in the process, well…

At least it will be in battle.

Chapter Text

The blast traps were so tall they reached Kotallo’s knee. Vashad and Omas had hidden the cluster behind one of the bigger rocks resting on one side of the road closer to the river. He looked up at where he knew Aloy would be. It was so dark that he had to squint to make out her red hair. 

“I can see them just fine, Kotallo,” she yelled from above, her voice echoing slightly. “Stop worrying.”

He scoffed. I wasn’t worried, he thought, turning back to the two Carja trappers. “And the rest?”

Vashad pointed a finger to the east, down the road, past another rock. “We set them up there, too.” 

Kotallo frowned. “With any luck, the Carja will break formation once this first set explodes. If not, they’ll do so by the second.” He looked towards the road, in the direction of the two boulders up ahead where the ground team was waiting, just before the road that led across the river. “They will scatter. We need to make sure we lead them here,” he said, pointing to the narrow pathway that led to the watchtower.

Omas scratched his goatee. “We could set up more over there,” he said, his head turned to where Kotallo was looking. “Not right there because that’s where you’ll be. But just a little—”

“Do we have more?”

“Loads.”

Kotallo glanced back up again and smirked when he heard Aloy’s exasperated sigh. “I heard. Stop nagging!”

He bit back a chuckle and turned back to Vashad and Omas. “Then let it be done.”

“Sir,” the two said at the same time before walking toward the spot Omas had indicated. 

His eyebrows rose. He had gotten used to being addressed as such as one of Hekarro's Marshals. But it was surreal to have someone from the east call him that, especially a Carja. Granted, Vashad and Omas were not part of the Carja military; in fact, they were both farmers that just happened to be excellent trappers. But that didn’t change the fact that they were still Carja and that they had called a former Tenakth Marshal ‘sir’.

Kotallo shook his head and made his way over to the ground team, unstrapping a spike thrower from his back. Kopilai and the other Banuk were gathered together, discussing something quietly. The other three that made up their ground team were Oseram, but he could only see two at the moment.

Kopilai broke off from the five from her werak and approached him. “I sent Aldur to the tower to check on the archers. He should be back soon.”

“Thank you,” he said and raised his hand to show her the spike thrower. “Might I borrow Inatut for a moment?”

She nodded and went back to the group, tapping Inatut on the shoulder and jerking her head in Kotallo’s direction. 

“How is your throwing arm?” Kotallo asked when he neared.

Inatut grinned. “Excellent!” 

“And your aim?”

“Even better!”

He arched his brow and glanced at Kopilai standing off to the side. She nodded once and he quickly turned his attention back to Inatut. He was staring at the spike thrower, his blue eyes wide with anticipation.

Kotallo shrugged, satisfied with Kopilai’s affirmation, and placed it in his waiting hands. “Wait for my signal before you throw it,” he instructed. 

Inatut raised the prototype closer to his face. “This is fine craftsmanship,” he muttered, running a finger along the shaft. “I must commission Varga to make some for me later.”

Kotallo scoffed. “Didn’t you say that a real warrior has no need for such weapons?”

The other man waved a dismissive hand as he wrapped his other around the grip of the spike thrower. “I just said that to goad you.”

“Goad me? To do wh—”

“Kotallo, sir.”

A heavily armored Oseram approached. His entire head was almost completely covered by a leather helmet with metal squares stitched all around. “The traps are ready. Everyone’s in position.”

“Good. Thank you, Aldur,” Kotallo said. He looked up at where the moon should’ve been. Heavy clouds swirled in front of it and the only light source came from the tower, far from where they were standing. The enemy wouldn’t see them coming, but that meant their side would have a hard time seeing them, too. It was unlikely the Carja would bring lit torches.

But Kotallo needn’t have worried. They could hear the Carja approach even if they couldn’t see them clearly. They marched on the rocky road, their heavy footfalls loud and stomping in sync on the ground. Left-right, left-right, left-right. 

He glanced to the side where the rest of the ground team crouched behind the boulders: six Banuk and three Oseram. Up the tower they had six archers, including Varl and Zo. Aloy was up on the mountain range.

Seventeen against a platoon! Even if Aloy was worth at least twenty of the enemy’s soldiers, it didn’t change the fact that they were greatly outnumbered.

This plan wouldn’t work! All seventeen of them would perish! The civilians would have no choice but to escape through the exit at the back of the tower. And even if the Carja didn’t go after them, they wouldn’t stand a chance against the scrappers or the stalkers near the Cauldron. What was he thinking when he suggested this? And why in the Ten did the others even listen to—

“Here they come,” Inatut murmured beside him with a grin, practically vibrating where he was crouched. 

Kotallo adjusted his grip on his spear, his palm slick with sweat. His skin felt like it was being pricked by a thousand needles. The footfalls were getting louder, their steady rhythm a mismatch for the racing of his heart against his chest. And, for a moment, the incessant pounding was all he could hear, until even that stopped and was replaced with a ringing in his ears. 

Then Aloy set the world on fire.

He winced at the sudden bright flash of light and the ear-splitting crack of the explosion. The horrendous screams that followed sent a chill up his spine. They’re the enemy, he reminded himself, watching the platoon break formation. They were running straight ahead, just as he predicted!

An arrow flew past. Kotallo turned his face to the right just before the second trap detonated.

The others shifted on their haunches. “Hold,” he said. But the screams were louder, closer now, drowning out his voice. “Hold your ground!”

Just one more, Kotallo thought, breathing deeply. One more, Aloy.

He jolted at the third explosion. It felt closer than he had expected it to be, the force of it blowing dirt and dust around them. A red, metal helmet blew straight past the boulder he was crouching behind, the red plumes scorched to nothing. The nauseating stench of burning flesh entered his nose as he breathed in, stinging his eyes.

“Fall back!”

The shouts grew fainter, and so did the sound of running. Kotallo peeked behind the rock and squinted past the blazing bodies scattered on the ground. The remaining Carja soldiers were headed towards the tower!

“Now?” Inatut hissed beside him.

They were almost to the pathway! “NOW!” Kotallo yelled.

Inatut ran a few meters past the boulder, stopped, and bent his body backwards. 

Kotallo held his breath as Inatut pressed the button on the spike thrower’s side.

He launched the spike in a high arc. Kotallo watched as it flew to the air and split into six, burning pieces, just as Varga said it would. One of them struck a soldier on his back, the others hit the ground and rocks around the rest. 

They all exploded at the same time.

Kotallo turned to the others. “Charge!” he cried, raising his spear. They raised their own weapons, their eyes ablaze. Their answering shouts ignited his blood.

They bolted towards the Carja soldiers with Inatut a few paces ahead. There couldn’t be more than thirty of them left! They were surrounded, Kotallo thought, the idea of victory close-at-hand thrilling him to the core. Nowhere left to run!

One of the lightly armored Carja noticed their approach and turned around, holding something heavy in front of him. Kotallo’s blood ran cold; the soldier was aiming a rattler at them, and there was nothing they could use for cover!

Suddenly Aloy was there, her hair a bright red banner against the smoke and dust. She jumped on the soldier’s back and pierced his neck. Blood sprayed from the wound when she removed her spear. 

She jumped back on the ground and shot him a toothy grin just before disappearing into the fray.

Kotallo laughed, his blood roaring at her audacity.

Inatut was the first to reach them, quickly joining the fight. A Carja came up behind him, ready to swing his sword. Kotallo tossed his spear into the air to change his grip and hurtled it towards the Carja, puncturing him just below his armpit. The soldier’s sword clattered to the ground as he screamed and Kotallo bellowed as he neared him, grabbing a hold of his spear and slashing downward.

He faced the next Carja, narrowly missing a blade to the face, and booted him in the chest. Just as he was about to stab him, an arm wrapped around his neck. His heart seized, but the arm didn’t get the chance to tighten any further as he heard the familiar sound of an arrow whizzing by and a loud thunk sounded very close to his ear. 

There was no time to see which one of their archers saved him. There was no time at all to do anything but fight and try to come out unscathed. Kotallo had been a soldier all his life, he knew it was folly to hope that everyone would make it. But his chest tightened at the thought of losing anyone else.

Kotallo ducked and slashed the torso of the next Carja in front of him, cutting through leather and skin. As the soldier fell, he saw one of them scaling the side of the tower. Their archers were facing their way and hadn’t spotted him!

He looked around frantically. Where was—

“Aloy!” he yelled when he spotted her. He ran towards her just as she was pulling out her spear from the dead Carja at her feet. A bruise was starting to form on her cheek. 

“I’m a little busy here!” she yelled up at him with narrowed eyes.

Kotallo turned around so that she was facing his back. “Side of the tower,” he yelled. “Shoot him down! I’ll cover you!”

“Shit!”

He brandished his spear, twirling it in his hand to ward off the three soldiers that had turned their attention on him. They lunged at him at almost the same time, and he could only dodge two of their blades. One blade nicked his chest, leaving a stinging pain behind. 

“Got him!” Aloy cried, ducking under his arm and kicking one of the soldiers’ legs from under him. 

Kotallo bent his knees and swung his spear in a wide arc, slashing their throats, leaving the soldiers gasping. He closed his eyes just before warm blood sprayed his face. 

That’s when he heard it: the familiar fizzing sounds of multiple bolts firing. Then came the sound of wood splintering. He quickly wiped his face on his shoulder and looked up—the Carja soldiers were running past the door!

He looked around frantically. “Kopilai!” he yelled, hoping she’d hear him amongst the confusion.

She did! Kopilai turned her head in his direction and locked eyes with him. He pointed his spear towards the door. “Don’t let them light a signal fire!”

Kotallo jumped back just in time before he could get a slash on his stump. He growled at the soldier in front of him and parried another blow. He had to get out of there!

Aloy pounced on the soldier and stabbed him in the gut. She whipped her head back to look at him. “Go! I’ll cover you!”

He ran. Inatut was facing five soldiers, but he had somehow gotten a rattler of his own and was laughing hysterically. Soldiers were flying left and right, the Oserams’ hammers making sizable dents in their armor and helmets. 

Kotallo ducked as soon as he made it past the threshold. There were three Carja soldiers up ahead at the top of the stairs, two armed with those troublesome rattlers while one held aloft a shield as arrows rained down on them. 

His eyes widened when he spotted Kopilai on the ground, bleeding from the side. She was on her back on the ground just at the base of the stairs. Her hood and headdress had fallen backwards, revealing short, dark hair. “Damn,” he swore and shifted on the balls of his feet. He dashed towards the wall near her, narrowly missing a bolt, and dropped his spear. He stretched out his arm and grabbed her by the scruff of her fur collar, grunting as he pulled her to safety next to him. 

The red stain on her green and yellow armor was expanding by the second. He took out the small knife tucked in his boot and was about to cut through the thick leather when Kopilai’s hand closed around his wrist.

“What are you doing?” she rasped.

“You’re bleeding! I need to—”

She pushed his hand away. “If they make it past the archers, we’re all done for.”

Kotallo paused. Kopilai was right, but if he left her here she would bleed to death. He looked up at the door, but the sounds of fighting hadn’t stopped! No one was coming!

“Go, Kotallo,” Kopilai said as she pressed her hand on her wound. She blinked blearily up at him.  “Stop them. You’re the only one who can.”

He swore under his breath before pinning her with a stare. “Survive,” he said through gritted teeth.

Her eyebrows leapt and she smiled. Her teeth were stained with her blood. “What else matters?”

Kotallo growled and picked up his spear. He crawled to the base of the stairs and listened. Rattlers didn’t fire continuously, there would be a short pause in between bursts. But could he make it? 

The Ten dared it all, he thought for the second time that night and waited. 

He rushed up the stairs and saw the soldiers’ eyes widen behind their helmets. The two trained their rattlers on him, but the other’s attention was diverted by a series of arrows coming from above. 

“Go, Kotallo!” he heard Varl shout.

One, two, three, fo—blood of the Ten! Kotallo hissed as he felt a searing pain on his right shoulder. He hadn’t been able to dodge that last bolt, but he’d gotten close enough to the soldiers! He ducked low and swung his spear, managing to slash two of the soldiers’ shins, the blade of his spear catching on bone. But the third one had backed away towards the wall just in time and aimed his rattler at him.

Kotallo hoped that Varl would cover him, there was no time to second-guess himself! He slid across the ground, dropping his spear and grabbing the shield. Two of the bolts hit the shield, metal ringing on metal. He grunted as the third bolt grazed his thigh, but jumped to his feet as soon as the fourth fizzed by and flung the shield at the soldier. 

The shield’s edge hit the soldier’s throat and he coughed so violently that he dropped the rattler. Kotallo used the moment to grab the sword latched to his belt and stab him between the eyes, the tip of the sword hitting the soldier’s metal helmet on the other side. 

Suddenly there were shouts coming from above the tower. He looked up, Varl was leaning over the balustrade, his eyes and mouth wide open. The expression on his face was more shocked than elated. “We won!”

Kotallo swallowed. “We won?”

Varl nodded vigorously before disappearing once more. They won? Kotallo thought. Against all odds, they—

He swore. “Kopilai!” he yelled, running back down the stairs. He breathed a sigh of relief: she was still alive, and kneeling next to her were Aluki and Aloy. 

Kotallo bent his knees, grunting as he sat on the lowest step. He put his elbow on his thigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was as if his body had chosen that exact moment to make its hurts known to him. He could suddenly feel his wounds acutely and his head started to ache.

A pair of rough, brown leather shoes appeared in front of him. 

He tilted his head upwards and found Aloy smirking down at him, her hands on her hips. “Who’s the reckless one now?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows.

Kotallo barked out a laugh and regretted it immediately for the sudden throb it brought on in his head. But Aloy was alive. And they were going to live through another night.

Thank the Ten.

Kotallo watched as the Banuk gathered around two bodies wrapped in blue cloth. They were resting on a small pyre almost right in front of the entrance. Inatut supported Kopilai as she stood, wrapping one arm around her waist while hers hung around his neck. Their shaman chanted, the sounds from his mouth harsh as he moved his staff through the air in erratic waves.

The wood crackled. Sparks flew into the air. A west wind blew the smoke towards the east.

They had been under his command, even for just a short while. And now they were gone, decreasing Kopilai’s werak even further. It had been too much to hope that everyone would make it out alive.

Kotallo hissed as Zo wiped his shoulder with a wet cloth. He had sustained more wounds and cuts than he initially thought, he certainly hadn’t felt them during the heat of the battle. But none were more serious than the wound on his shoulder.

“Just a little more,” Zo murmured. 

He breathed in deep through his nose and looked up at Varl, leaning against the railing of the stairs, his attention focused on the Banuk and their ceremony. He and the rest of the archers were unharmed, protected as they had been by being positioned at the top of the tower during the battle. 

“Were any of our carts damaged?” Kotallo asked.

Varl shook his head before looking down at him with solemn eyes. “The others are asking if we’re going to stay here.”

Kotallo pursed his lips. The Unflinching Watch was a defensible position, it was true. But it wouldn’t be long before Sunfall sent another platoon, or more, to check why none of their soldiers had returned. “We can’t. We’ll stay for a few hours, let everyone rest. But we must leave tomorrow.”

“Alright. I’ll get the others settled then,” Varl said, pushing himself off the railing and brushing a hand on Zo’s shoulder before walking up the stairs.

Zo wrung out the blood from the cloth and turned to dip it into the bucket that held clean water. Kotallo turned his head to inspect his wound but looked up at her when her breath hitched. Her shoulders rose and fell in time with her shaky breaths. 

“Zo? Are you hurt?” Kotallo asked, quickly scanning her form for any visible injuries.

She panted as she wiped more of his blood from his shoulder, her face pale. Her hands were shaking. “Not hurt. The burning—,” she heaved once, then clapped a hand on her mouth and nose.

Burning? Kotallo took a whiff through his nose and understood. He stood up from the steps and took her arm. “Come,” he said, pulling her up. “Let us move.”

He lifted the bucket from the floor and followed her up the stairs and to the door that led to the back. Zo leaned her forehead on the stone wall, putting a hand to her chest as she slowed her breathing. They were far enough from the Banuk that the smell from the pyre didn’t reach them from where they now stood.

Kotallo winced as he raised his hand and placed it on the middle of her back. “Breathe,” he said, keeping his voice low. “In through the nose, and out through the mouth.”

He couldn’t see her face, but she did as he instructed. Her breathing eventually slowed. “Should I get Varl for you?” he asked.

Zo turned. “No. I’ll be fine,” she said, rubbing circles on her chest now. “I’ll be fine.”

They stood there in silence for a moment. On his left was the room that he had locked the three guards in. The door was wide open and the Oseram were passing around steins of ale to anyone who would take one, laughing and regaling the others with their own spin on the battle. He’d have to ask Varl where they placed the Carja guards, and ensure that no one would drink themselves in a stupor.

“Will you be able to hold still? I need to take out the bolt from your shoulder.”

Kotallo turned back to Zo and saw that she looked calmer, her eyes clearer. She was holding a small, blunt knife with a steady hand. He’d had rattler bolts taken out of him before, back when the Carja were still actively raiding the Clan Lands. It had not been a pleasant experience. 

“Should we get Varl after all?” Zo asked. She wore a small smile, but her face was still ashen. 

He huffed and took her spot against the wall. He took a deep breath, then nodded to her. 

Kotallo’s eyes snapped shut and his whole body seized as pain coursed through the whole of his right arm. It was so terrible that he couldn’t even make a fist. It was as if the rest of his body had vanished, and all that existed was the point of his shoulder—that excruciating spot.

He bit his lip from making a sound, but it was difficult. He could feel every nudge and turn of the knife in his shoulder as Zo pried the bolt out.

Just as he started to think it would never end, the pain ebbed away, leaving a sharp ache. He panted, as if his heart had stopped and suddenly restarted. He opened his eyes, then blinked a few times to clear out the tears that had gathered. His arm felt like lead as it stayed limp and heavy on his side. 

The sound of metal hitting stone reached his ears. “There,” Zo said, wiping the bloody knife on a different cloth. “Now to clean it.”

Kotallo sighed, rubbed his eyes and immediately regretted it for the stinging that followed. He must’ve accidentally rubbed some of his paint in. He blinked a few more times and settled his eyes on Zo.

Her hands were gentle, but the wet cloth she cleaned his wound with was rough and he couldn’t help but wince everytime it made contact with his shoulder. Her smile had gone away and she was staring intently at his wound, as if the task required all of her attention.

He’d seen the face she made back down on the steps. It was an expression he was intimately familiar with, having seen it on dozens of Tenakth soldiers in the past.

Any sane person would have gone even just a little mad at the horrors they’d seen.

Kotallo cleared his throat. “I had a squadmate once who could not stand the smell of burning meat.”

Zo stiffened. She looked him in the eye before dropping the cloth in the bucket and taking out a small, familiar pot from the pocket of her clothes. It was the same sweet-smelling salve she had used on his stump. She stayed silent as she applied it on his skin.

“The Red Raids took her three younger brothers.” Kotallo paused, considering how much to tell her. “The Carja…burned them alive.”

Zo breathed in deeply. “Why are you telling me this?” she whispered.

“There were moments where she would be plagued with…images. Memories. Whoever was with her would know to stay with her until it passed. We would tell her to breathe and to tell us the things she saw or heard—things that were real in that moment.” Kotallo paused and looked around him. “Like the laughter from that room over there, the fragrance from that salve in your hand, the wind on our skin.”

Zo swallowed. “Did it help?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know of any Utaru with the same kind of…affliction,” she said softly as she put back the pot in her pocket.

Kotallo shrugged. “I am not surprised. Not all Utaru would have seen the things you have.”

She dropped his gaze and nodded, her lip starting to quiver. “What became of her? Your squadmate?”

“She—,” he bit the inside of his cheek and breathed out slowly. “She died along with the other marshals.”

“I’m sorry.”

Kotallo nodded and looked up. Regalla had been a fiercely loyal soldier. Extremely deadly; they had called her the point of Hekarro’s spear. She had trained with them and laughed with them. She liked to goad him and the rest into friendly sparring matches and gloated every time she won, which was almost all the time. Before she went mad, they had all considered each other family.

“And…you? What do you do when you’re plagued with memories?”

He sighed. The sky was beginning to turn pink. They’d been awake the entire night.

“I wake up.”

The chanting from below had stopped and was replaced by the clanging of metal and the clapping of hands in a beat Kotallo didn’t recognize. The sounds were coming from the room and were soon followed by singing.

“Thank you,” Zo said. “It doesn’t happen often. But when it does, I will give your suggestion a try.”

He gave her a chiding look. “It only works when you have someone with you, someone to confide in. You are not alone in this, Zo. Varl would understand.”

“I suppose he would.” She sighed and picked up the bucket by the handle. “I’m going to get some rest. You should, too.”

“I will.”

As she walked away, Kotallo hoped that their conversation helped her, even just a little. Zo was strong, but even the strongest person could break. But he wasn’t worried. Varl was just as strong. He knew he’d be able to provide her comfort.

He saw something red in his periphery and immediately looked towards the stairs. The Banuk were climbing up, and Aloy was trailing behind them. She hadn’t come out unscathed from the battle, either. Her armor was torn in some places and she also had a few cuts on her arms. He hadn’t seen her getting any treatment from Zo or from the other healers and wondered if he should pester her until she did so. The thought of her rolling her eyes at him made the idea even more tempting.

She was already smiling at him as she approached, and the twinkle in her eye told him she was preparing a teasing remark.

He had to beat her to it. “You look like—”

“Ah, Kotallo! Just the man I wanted to see!”

A strong hand thumped his back. Inatut was grinning beside him, his face uncomfortably close to his own. He glanced back to where Aloy had been and saw that she already had her back turned. He frowned as he watched her walk up the steps to the top of the tower. 

Kotallo arched his brow as he turned back to look at Inatut. “Was there something you needed?”

The Banuk wound his arm around Kotallo’s neck, his hand resting on Kotallo’s left shoulder. Inatut’s proximity to his wounded shoulder made him wince, but the Banuk didn’t seem to notice. “That was a glorious battle! One worthy to be included in my song.” He wagged a finger at Kotallo. “I knew you were strong the first time I saw you. But to think you were also smart? Ha! You could be chieftain of your own werak if you were Banuk!”

Kotallo sighed and stared at Inatut’s hand. “I seem to recall your comments implying otherwise.”

“Implying that you were stupid?”

He bared his teeth at him. “That I was weak.”

Inatut scoffed. “That was just to—” he stopped and looked around. The next words he spoke were delivered in a theatrical whisper. He leaned closer and cupped his mouth. “That was just to get you to fight me.”

Kotallo’s eyes widened. “You wanted me to fight you? Why couldn’t you have just issued a challenge?”

Inatut waved a dismissive hand. “We all wanted to challenge you at one point. But after Tarit, Kopilai forbade the whole werak into issuing challenges outside of our group.” He shrugged. “I told her it would just be a friendly sparring match, but she wouldn’t give in.”

Inatut wasn't making any sense. “You taunted me for weeks to get me to fight you?" Kotallo clarified, speaking slowly.

“It was not easy. Your patience is something to be commended. Perhaps you should command your own werak! Not that I’d join you. Kopilai would skin me alive.” 

“But—,” Kotallo frowned. “Why would you want to fight me?”

Inatut’s eyebrows rose. “Don’t you know that the best way to test one’s strength is to challenge another strong fighter?”

Kotallo groaned in frustration. Were easterners blind? he thought. “But how could you have known that when—,” he sighed. “When I am maimed?”

Inatut leaned forward to look at Kotallo’s stump, as if he’d never seen it before. “But that just proves that you are strong.”

“What?” he hissed.

“The Banuk have a saying: Survive. Prevail. What else matters?”

Kopilai’s words, Kotallo realized. “Are you saying that…I am strong because I survived this?” he asked, lifting his stump.

“I’ve seen wounds like yours, my friend,” Inatut said, the corners of his mouth turning downwards. “And you’re the only one I know that’s still standing.”

He scoffed again and finally removed his hand from Kotallo’s shoulder. “It’s not even just that. We know you’ve battled ferocious machines and won. And even before that, we knew that you escaped Sunfall.”

“But I was with Aloy.”

“Yes, Aloy is a strong fighter,” Inatut said slowly, blinking at him. “Why would that mean that you are not one, too?” 

He studied Inatut’s face. He didn’t seem like he was mocking Kotallo, but he did look confused. He was frowning and squinting his eyes at Kotallo. “Perhaps you are not as smart as I thought.”

Kotallo bristled, but Inatut was stretching his arms above his head and was already turning away from him. “I’m going to turn in. These muscles of mine need a rest.”

He stood dumbfounded as he watched Inatut walk away, thinking about what he had said. He… wasn’t wrong. To survive such a wound was unthinkable. But—

Kotallo shook his head. No, he couldn’t dwell on it now. There was still much to do, much that he hadn’t been able to check because they had left the settlement in such a hurry. He had to make a final count of their supplies and ammunition. He had to make sure everyone was accounted for. He had to make sure that their surviving fighters were alright. Then he would have to think about which of them would be better off at the front or at the rear when they continued their way to Pitchcliff. He would need Varl and Kopilai's input for that last one.

He sighed, feeling exhaustion creep up on his shoulders. The Oseram were still drinking and they had been joined by the Banuk. There was a time when he would have celebrated, too, after a long and hard battle. But just thinking about doing so and joining them added to his fatigue.

Kotallo made his way up the tower, instead. He needed to ensure Aloy received treatment as well anyway.

She was sitting atop the balustrade, her feet dangling from the floor. A look of contentment was on her face as she looked to the east, the wind blowing her hair from her shoulders. He hesitated, feeling like an intruder. But she straightened when she spotted him, and shot him the same teasing smile from earlier.

“You’re looking pretty banged up,” Aloy said, tilting her head as he made his way to her. Her place at the balustrade gave her the much needed height to look down at him.

Kotallo huffed. “Have you taken a look at yourself recently?”

“Oh, I’m fine.”

He hummed, believing her. He would have noticed if something was amiss. The only visible injury was the bruise on her cheek, which had turned into an angry purplish-red color. “And this?” he asked, reaching up to trail his knuckles lightly on the bruise. “Lucky hit?”

Aloy drew in a sharp breath and he stiffened. Her eyes were wide and her pink lips were parted. Kotallo took back his hand and, clearing his throat, looked to the side.

The Tenakth exchanged friendly touches all the time, especially between squadmates. An arm around one’s shoulders, clasping another’s hand in greeting, a friendly embrace… These were things that Kotallo was used to. But Aloy had just recounted her childhood to him earlier back at the settlement. Raised as an outcast… of course she wasn’t used to anyone touching her. 

For a moment, they didn't speak. Aloy made him feel normal, as if he was still part of a squad. He never expected to find a kindred spirit in the east. 

I should've kept my hand to myself, he thought. Because of his impulsiveness, he'd made the situation awkward and made her deeply uncomfortable.

She coughed. “You ruined my work.”

Kotallo raised his eyebrows, then frowned. It looked as if she was forcing a smile and she wouldn’t look him in the eye. He sighed. “Your work?”

Aloy pointed to the top of his head. He reached up and patted his hair, feeling the stray strands that had come loose from the binding. “Well, I had more pressing concerns, as you know.”

She stared at him, her lips pressing together in a firm line. Her fingers tapped against the stone. “Turn around,” she said.

Kotallo wilted at the thought that she was forcing herself. “Aloy, you don’t have t—”

She clicked her tongue. “Just turn around, Kotallo.”

He reluctantly did as she asked and jolted when he felt her hands on his shoulders. She pulled him gently towards her and he took two steps backward until he felt stone pressing against the middle of his back. When her hands moved to the sides of his head, he immediately closed his eyes and felt the tension in his shoulders recede.

“It is a good thing you’re sitting there,” he said, his voice a low grumble. He fought down the urge to rest his elbow on her knee. It seemed that she was more comfortable touching him than she was of him touching her.

Aloy hummed. “Why?”

“So that you can easily reach my head.”

“It’s not my fault you’re freakishly tall.”

Kotallo chuckled. Her fingers were feather-light as she took out the cord from his hair. It fell all around him and she leisurely combed her fingers through his locks, coaxing away the tangles she found. Her fingers moved to his nape and touched skin, sending a shiver down his spine.

“What?”

“Your hands are cold,” he said with a grunt.

“You complain too much.”

He hummed, feeling too content to say any more as she gathered his hair starting from his temples, then from his nape. She then swept her palm along the top of his head. And then, just like the previous time, it was over too soon. His hair was up again, tied away from his face and neck, but one of her hands remained on his head. 

“I forgot to ask earlier,” she said, tracing her fingers in small circles on a spot above his temple. “Did you used to shave this?”

Kotallo wished she’d do the same on the other side. “Yes. I plan to do so again, once I find a mirror.”

Aloy dragged in a breath, her fingers moving closer to the front of his head, tracing the overgrown pattern. “I could just do it for you,” she murmured behind him.

A part of him wanted to tease her that he did not trust her with a blade, or something to that effect. But up on this tower, away from the others and the sounds of merriment, there was a stillness that he hadn’t realized he’d been craving.

He felt something warm settle in his chest. It felt like peace: the same kind he felt when she did this for him at the Shattered Kiln, just hours before. 

“You have my thanks, Aloy.” 

Chapter Text

They were dragging their feet, mumbling under their breath as they did. Nothing too clear or too loud for Kotallo to hear, but he could guess what they were saying amongst themselves from the furtive glances they shot his way.

He kept his face blank as he walked around the Unflinching Watch, taking note of everyone’s progress. It was a clear day, not a cloud in sight. They should have been ready to leave before the sun had fully risen, but most of them had been awake for more than a day, including himself. So he had allowed an additional two hours of rest.

Not that it had been appreciated. Kotallo still heard scattered mumblings of dissent from the non-fighters in their group as they prepared to leave. He was glad that at least the people he had fought alongside with earlier understood the need for urgency. The Banuk, especially, had been quick to provide assistance. They were just about finished loading up one of the carts with their equipment when Kotallo spotted Kopilai.

She was watching her werak, pain and exhaustion obvious in the set of her shoulders. She kept one hand on her left side as she leaned back against the stone wall. Kopilai looked smaller and less intimidating without her headdress, but she would definitely collapse from the heat if she kept it on.

It was hotter here than it was at the Shattered Kiln, and the sun wasn’t even at its peak. There were not a lot of trees, but plenty of sand and rock. The climate and the view reminded Kotallo of the Stillsands, just south of Scalding Spear. But the thought of the Desert capital worsened his mood, and so he strived to focus on getting everyone out of the Carja watchtower.

Kotallo made his way towards Kopilai and took note of her labored breathing and the way her eyes darted warily over his form. He walked over to her left and leaned his back against the wall next to her. “You should stay on the cart,” he said in a low voice, keeping his eyes on the rest of the group.

“With the children and the infirmed?” Kopilai said with a sneer. He could see from his periphery that she was shaking her head. “I can still walk.”

He’d expected this, of course. Warriors were proud creatures, sometimes to the point of idiocy. “You’ll only slow us down with your stubbornness.”

“I’m not the only one with an injury.”

Kotallo didn’t need reminding. The bandage was sticking to his skin uncomfortably in the heat now, and he was not looking forward to finding out how irritating the wound was going to feel under the oppressing heat of the afternoon sun. Unlike Kopilai, though, he walked unimpeded, his shoulder wound was not causing him to limp as she did.

He didn’t need to see the way her eyes darted to the rest of her werak and how she kept her voice low to understand where her hesitancy was coming from.  

“Your werak will not think you weak.”

“You say that because you do not know our ways,” she hissed at him.

Kotallo pushed himself off the wall to face her. “Survive. Prevail. What else matters?” he said and watched her eyes widen. “Is this not the way of the Banuk?”

Her eyes bore into his and he could see that she was trying to determine his motivations. He wasn’t surprised about that, either. She’d given him command of her werak the night before and he’d been generous with his orders. In her place, even Kotallo would start to suspect that perhaps he’d grown a taste of command.

Raising his shoulders in a shrug, Kotallo let Kopilai look her fill. There wasn’t anything that he could do if she decided that he couldn’t be trusted. But even if she stood her ground now, he had no doubt that she’d end up on the cart during their journey, or maybe even on one of her fighters’ back as they carried her. 

When Kopilai’s shoulders sagged, Kotallo knew that she’d reached the same conclusion. 

“Do not use our words against me,” she said with a sigh. She stayed silent for a long moment, her lips pressed into a firm line, battling with her pride. “Fine, my werak is yours to command,” she finally said, wagging a finger, echoing her statement from the night before. “Just until Pitchcliff.” 

Kotallo nodded and looked to the side when he noticed Varl’s approach. He was accompanied by Zo who looked much better than she did when they last spoke. He surmised that she must’ve taken the opportunity to sleep earlier, after ensuring everyone had been patched up, and envied her for the ease in which she was able to sleep without hesitation. 

It was time to discuss how they were going to position themselves along the road. Kotallo scanned the area for Aloy and his eyebrows leapt when he spotted her across the courtyard handing out plates and cooked fish. “I wasn’t aware you knew how to cook,” he said with a smirk when she finally approached them, carrying a handful of plates on one hand and a plate of fish on the other.

“Of course I know how to cook,” Aloy said, passing the plates to Zo. “How do you think I survive in the wilds?”

Kotallo arched his brow. He’d seen how she was when they went out hunting machines and how often her hand reached for something handy to eat, instead of stopping to eat an actual meal. “With bread and trail mix.”

She winced. “Yeah, okay, I don’t cook often. But I do know how to cook.”

They spoke as they ate, sitting cross-legged on the ground. Kotallo didn’t want to keep raising his arm more than necessary, so he had to lean forwards a bit more than he normally would to scoop food in his mouth. Kopilai was having to do the opposite to avoid moving her torso.

“Pitchcliff is an Oseram settlement, correct?” he asked. They all looked to Aloy, even Varl and Zo, which told Kotallo that she was the only one who had been there. 

Aloy nodded then turned to Varl. “Erend’s meeting us there. He should be there now.”

Varl’s eyes brightened, but Kotallo interrupted him before he could speak. “Who is Erend?”

“The de-facto head of the Oseram part of the rebellion. It was his sister, originally, but she was captured by Jiran’s Kestrels. Last we heard, she was underneath the Sun-Ring in Meridian,” Varl explained.

“Not anymore,” Aloy said, shaking her head. “She escaped.”

“She escaped Meridian?” Kopilai asked, her eyes wide. “How did she manage that?”

Aloy shrugged as she chewed. “I don’t know yet. All I know is that Erend was meeting her in Pitchcliff and he said that he would wait for us there.”

If this Ersa was able to escape captivity from right under the Sun King’s nose, then she must be an impressive warrior, Kotallo thought. He had never heard of anyone surviving the Sun-Ring. Then again, he survived, but only with the help of Aloy. Perhaps this Ersa had help, too. 

But that was neither here nor there. “So they know we’re coming,” Kotallo said. “There are plenty of Carja among us. Will this be an issue?”

Aloy frowned. “They’re Carja, sure. But they’re here because they escaped.”

“Not all people are able to differentiate between the Carja who support the Sun King and the Carja who don’t,” he said, glancing at Kopilai. 

“Like Tarit, may his song be encased in ice,” Kopilai said with a nod. “Could we ask them to change into something that doesn’t make it so obvious that they’re Carja?”

“We don’t have enough clothes and armor to do that,” Zo said, not looking up from her plate, picking at her fish.

“They’ll be fine,” Aloy said.

“Yeah, Erend can be pretty persuasive,” Varl added.

“Even so, it would be folly to appear within the settlement’s sights with the Carja in full view,” Kotallo said. “It might be best to position Aldur, Fendur, and Telga at the front and send them out first once we reach Pitchcliff.”

“So they see fellow Oseram first,” Varl said, nodding his head.

“Right. And once we speak to the settlement’s leader and deem it safe, we can bring the rest of the group out from hiding,” Kotallo said, then turned to Kopilai. “Aluki would be best positioned at the back of the group. In fact, I’d like her to trail behind us.”

“In case Sunfall sends more soldiers?”

“Correct. She’d be able to catch up with us and warn us if they do.”

“And the rest of my werak?”

“Flanking the group.”

Kopilai frowned. “And I’ll be on a cart,” she muttered as she looked back to her plate.

He grimaced. “It is only until you recover from your wound,” he assured her.

Aloy put her plate on the ground and smirked at him. “Shouldn’t you be on a cart, too? Until you recover from your wound?”

He frowned at her. If he survived a trip to the east with a maimed limb, he’d survive a shoulder wound on the much shorter journey to Pitchcliff. He ignored her and turned to Zo and Varl. “I will let you two decide where you want to position yourselves within the group.”

“And me?” Aloy asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Where should I position myself?”

Kotallo smirked, deciding to take the bait this time. “With me.”

“And why?”

“So I can keep an eye on you.”

She clicked her tongue. “I’m not a child.”

Kotallo stood, glancing at Zo by chance. Her dark eyebrows were raised and she was smiling at him strangely. He tilted his head in askance, but she merely pressed her lips together and shook her head. 

He turned back to Aloy as she pushed herself up on her feet. “Stop acting like one, then,” he mumbled to her, petty satisfaction filling him when she frowned and glared at him in response.

The scorching heat of the afternoon sun beat down on them all, and they might have all perished of dehydration if it weren’t for the babbling river running alongside them. They were going too slow for Kotallo’s liking, but he knew it couldn’t be helped. The road, though more flat than its surroundings, was still rocky and uneven. If they rushed too much, it could damage the carts, and they would have to spend time repairing them.

He turned around and looked up at Aluki standing on the mountain range, her gaze trained towards the west. Kotallo put his fingers to his mouth and whistled, signaling Aluki to provide a report. She turned at the sound and formed an ‘X’ with her arms over her chest, her hands curled into fists, then threw her arms out wide with her palms facing outwards. She did this twice more.

Kotallo raised his hand in the air above him, wincing at the effort, and made a circle with his forefinger and his thumb.

“What’s that mean?” Aloy asked when he caught up with the group, falling in step with her on her left. She replicated the signal Aluki had made, forming an ‘X’ with her arms before throwing them away from herself.

“It means we are safe from imminent danger.” 

She formed a circle with her forefinger and her thumb, just as he did earlier. “And this?”

“It means ‘okay’, or ‘understood’.”

Aloy hummed. “What other hand signals are there?”

Kotallo took a moment to keep his face neutral before putting his forefinger against his lips. Aloy scowled at him. “What’s the hand signal for ‘you’re an ass’?”

He rubbed his chin, smiling behind his hand. “There is none.”

“Well, there should be.”

Kotallo chuckled, counting her pout as a small victory. “You could always make one.”

“Oh, I will,” Aloy said heatedly, before turning her eyes back on the road ahead. 

She had been sighing and clicking her tongue at random moments as they made their way. Kotallo knew she was restless, and this unbearable heat was surely adding to her sour mood. Aloy was used to traveling alone and likely found the group’s pace too slow, just as he did. He probably should teach her some hand signals—he’d been meaning to, anyway, and it would be a good way to pass the time and distract her.

He frowned, remembering that most of the hand signals required two hands to do. It had been mortifying to teach Aluki in a secluded corner back at the watchtower, but it was important that she knew how to signal them for danger from afar. 

Kotallo glanced up and scanned the backs of the people trudging ahead of them. As long as they didn’t turn around, he supposed it would be alright to teach a few to Aloy. 

He cleared his throat. “I will teach you more, but I will not be able to demonstrate most of the hand signals. You will need to follow my instructions,” he said in a low voice.

Aloy looked at him, then nodded. If she understood his hesitation, she didn’t show it and for that he was grateful. “Sure,” she said and raised her hand. “What did this one mean?” She held up her forefinger, middle finger, and thumb—the hand signal he had shown her back at Sunfall.

“Three seconds.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Three seconds before—” she made an almost chopping motion with her hand “—I thought you meant three enemies.”

Kotallo frowned. “There were four hostiles, and they were standing out in the open. Did you think I couldn’t count?”

Aloy grinned. “Yeah, I really did.”

He scoffed. “You are ridiculous.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have assumed I knew hand signals.”

“It was a force of habit. I had forgotten I wasn’t in the Clan Lands.”

There must’ve been something in the way that he said it, because Aloy didn’t respond and bit her lip. He clenched his teeth and let the silence lie. This was his life now. There was no use in thinking of all the things he’d been forced to leave behind. 

Kotallo saw Aloy moving her arms from his periphery. He turned to look and saw that she had her left arm bent upwards, her elbow resting on the top of her right hand, palm facing downwards. “What are you doing?” he growled.

She snickered and pointed at him. “You—” she bent her elbow again and placed it on the top of her hand like before. She closed and opened her right hand twice. “—are an ass.”

He stared at her as she continued to grin. He opened his mouth to tell her once again that she was ridiculous but, instead, pointed at her then put his right hand below his stump and closed and opened his hand in quick succession. “You are an ass.”

Aloy’s face lit up and she threw her head back as she laughed, the sound chasing away the heavy feeling that had enveloped his heart moments ago.

“Do all Tenakth use hand signals?” she asked when she had calmed down, wiping her eyes before wiping the back of her neck. 

Kotallo nodded and recalled that Varl had asked him the same question on their first hunt together. “During the Clan Wars, all three clans used different sets of hand signals. But when the Carja began their raids, Hekarro ordered a standard set of hand signals to be made to be used by everyone in the tribe.”

Aloy hummed. “So these hand signals are new?”

“Somewhat new, yes.”

She hummed again, her eyebrows furrowed pensively. “What is it?” he asked as he flicked sweat off his brow. Aloy bit her lip and squinted her eyes. “Trying to exercise some tact, again? You do not need to do that with me. I have grown used to your crude way of speaking.” 

Aloy glared at him and he bit back a chuckle. “I was thinking that you can just make your own hand signals. Ones that only need one hand.”

Kotallo shook his head and pursed his lips. “What use would that be here? Only the Tenakth use hand signals.”

She shrugged. “Once you make your own, you can teach them to me.”

He grunted. There was some merit in doing that, it was true. Especially since he planned on joining her after Pitchcliff. “Fine, I will create hand signals for us to use.”

Aloy shot him a knowing glance, her lips curling upwards. “I can help.”

“No.”

“Why not? I have excellent ideas.”

“You have the worst ideas.”

“That’s not—”

Kotallo stopped in his tracks. Aloy was staring at something to their left, and when he turned to follow her gaze, a creeping feeling crawled at the back of his neck. “Aloy, no,” he said firmly.

“I haven’t even done anything yet,” she said distractedly, her eyes trained down a path that cut through the mountain range.

Kotallo knew that it led straight down to the Cauldron where she had been wounded—where they had nearly died. “I know what you’re thinking.”

Aloy snorted as she looked back at him. “You can’t possibly know that.”

He couldn’t understand why she was so determined to investigate the Cauldron when their last visit had ended so poorly. There was nothing to be found there but machines and a metal door that nobody could open! “Why don’t you scout ahead? I wouldn’t want us to stumble upon a herd of machines we cannot handle.”

Aloy narrowed her eyes. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?”

“You’re trying to handle me.” 

“No, I’m trying to keep you from making foolish decisions.”

She stared at him hard with an arched brow, her head tilted in a challenging manner. He straightened to his full height and met her stare. “And here I thought you’d learned to stop being so reckless.”

Aloy’s face flushed as her jaw dropped. “What did you say?” she said.

Kotallo held up his hand to stop her from launching into a tirade. “We will get these people safely to Pitchcliff. When that’s done, I will accompany you to this Cauldron,” he said, in a voice that brooked no argument. 

Aloy stepped closer to him until they were toe-to-toe. “I don’t need you to accompany me,” she said slowly, tapping a finger on his chest in time with her words. “I haven’t needed anyone to accompany me since I left Nora lands.”

The Ten help him, they’ve had this discussion before. But they were sleep-addled, and this heat was driving them insane. 

Kotallo took a deep breath, summoning all of his patience as he closed his hand around her wrist. He squeezed once, but kept his hold light. “I will accompany you to this Cauldron,” he said again, gentling his tone. “But only after we reach Pitchcliff.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, her finger still pressing on his chest. She finally pulled her hand away with a huff and crossed her arms, looking away from him. He sighed. “Go on. Scout ahead and report back in an hour.”

Aloy glared at him again as she took her spear from her back. “I don’t take orders from you,” she said through gritted teeth before stomping away, weaving through the crowd as she made her way to the front. She jogged ahead once she made it through and Kotallo watched until she eventually disappeared behind the curve along the path. 

Kotallo let out a breath and idly wondered what would happen if he and Aloy did end up fighting. He frowned, Aloy would be a wily opponent, but he believed he could take her. 

“Did you guys get into another argument?”

Varl approached him with a wry smile. He had taken off the fur wrap that was usually strapped to his shoulders so he was left with only his leather tunic.

“I asked her to scout ahead.”

The other man shook his head. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make Aloy listen to you?”

Kotallo scoffed. “With difficulty.”

Varl chuckled as they walked, before turning serious. He looked at Kotallo with a speculative eye. “I’m actually surprised she hasn’t run off yet.”

He didn’t know what to make of the expression on Varl’s face or of the open-ended undertone of his statement. “Her mission was to relocate these people to Pitchcliff, and it has taken a while for us to make it happen,” he said with a shrug.

Varl hummed, looking unconvinced, though Kotallo wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be convincing him of. “She’s always been a little different. Aloy, I mean.”

He felt heat at the back of his neck, and he couldn’t tell if it was because of the sun above their heads. “Yes,” Kotallo said with an arched brow. “I can imagine anyone would be a little different after being raised an outcast.”

Varl frowned at his tone, his eyes sad. “I had nothing to do with that, Kotallo,” he said softly, sounding defeated.

Kotallo huffed and looked away. Varl was only a few years older than Aloy, he and Kotallo were possibly the same age. Logically, he knew that Varl didn’t have a hand in Aloy’s exile, but he couldn’t help but direct some of his indignation at the other man since he belonged to the same tribe that had treated Aloy so unjustly. 

But it was not fair of him to do so. “I know,” Kotallo mumbled.

 Varl sighed. “Has she told you about what happened at the Proving?”

“Some.”

The other man nodded before audibly breathing in deep. “My sister ran the same Proving Aloy did.”

Kotallo turned his head sharply to look at him. The pieces from his conversation with Varl the day they met, and his conversation with Aloy last night by the river slowly slotted together in his mind. “I’m sorry.”

Varl reached up to scratch his cheek. “Aloy helped my mother and I—the whole war party—in hunting the killers down. We couldn’t have done it without her Seeker’s blessing.” He pinned Kotallo with a hard stare, one that surprised Kotallo. He’d never seen Varl so serious before. “I followed her out of the Sacred Lands because I swore an oath to help her—no matter what.”

Then he shrugged, his hard expression replaced by an almost apologetic smile. “I’ve followed her long enough to know that she doesn’t let just anyone in. I’ve never seen her so comfortable around another person before.”

Kotallo paused, not sure how to respond. But his thoughts wandered to the moment up on the watchtower and the peace he felt as Aloy did his hair. “In truth, I… I didn’t expect to find anyone like her in the east.”

Varl’s eyebrows shot up, his eyes wide. He nodded again, in an almost encouraging manner. “Like her? What do you mean?”

He blinked. The other man was leaning slightly into his space. “Just that… Aloy’s approach to life is very similar to the Tenakth’s.”

Varl wilted, his shoulders visibly drooping. “Oh. That’s it?”

“Yes. She would fit right in back in the Clan Lands, if she wore paint and had ink.”

“Huh,” Varl said, nodding his head slowly again. Kotallo felt as if he was taking part in a conversation he was missing the context to.

“What is it?” he said, letting his impatience seep through his voice. 

Varl shook his head in that same slow manner that was starting to grate on Kotallo’s nerves. “Nothing,” he finally said. Then he shrugged. “Well, I guess I’m glad that you two found each other.”

Kotallo frowned, still perplexed by Varl’s behavior. “So am I,” he said distractedly. 

Varl’s eyes snapped towards him, then he scrunched up his face and looked away. “Right.”

They walked side-by-side until the sky had turned pink and the air cooled as the sun moved west. They had made excellent progress despite the multiple breaks that were requested and the amount of equipment they brought with them. They might even reach Pitchcliff by this time tomorrow, or the morning after. For now, the people needed rest. 

They set up camp in a grassy area, after chasing away some chargers, and after Kotallo had deemed it safe enough to do so. Aluki had signaled that there was no imminent danger from Sunfall, and they would continue to keep watch throughout the night in shifts. Even if Sunfall sent their soldiers now, it would be a while before they caught up with them. 

It was only after the perimeter had been set that Aloy arrived, looking as exhausted as he felt. She didn’t even look at him as she approached, choosing to plop down on the grass. She pointed across the river. “Behemoth convoy that way.” Then she pointed further along the road. “Shell-walkers ahead.”

“Alright,” Kotallo said, sitting on the grass a foot from where she was. His skin began to itch, as it normally did when his body was getting ready to sleep. “We can talk more tomorrow.”

Aloy nodded and lay down, placing her arm over her eyes. “Aren’t you going to set up the tent?” Kotallo asked.

“Too tired,” she mumbled.

He grunted and followed her example, laying on the grass.

“Will you really come with me?” she asked. At least, that's what he thought she said.

“Always,” he mumbled before darkness overtook him.

Chapter Text

Kotallo woke with a gasp, reaching up to grasp his stump, blood rushing through his ears, and cold sweat on his brow. He grunted and blearily opened his eyes, his heart seizing for a moment as he looked upon Inatut’s face. 

“Rise and shine,” Inatut said, grinning wide. “It’s time for the third watch. You told me to wake you…?”

“I’m up,” Kotallo said, panting. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second before opening them wide and blinking a few times. The sky was still dark as ink and dotted with stars. Fire crackled nearby, accompanying the symphony of unseen crickets. He tilted his head to the right, the grass tickling his cheek, and frowned at the empty spot beside him.

“Looking for Aloy?” Inatut asked, then pointed behind him with his thumb at Kotallo’s nod. “She’s over there.”

He lifted himself off his back with his arm. Aloy was alone, sitting cross-legged by the river, illuminated by a campfire. She was holding something in her hand, but his eyes were still misty from sleep and he couldn’t tell what it was. 

Kotallo shifted his gaze, scanning the small field they’d chosen to make camp. Tents had been set up, but the field was not devoid of people. He could see that some had chosen to sleep on the grass, as he and Aloy did, while others had their bedrolls out. He couldn’t see where the carts were in the darkness, but hoped that Varl had asked them to leave the supplies in them, in case they had to leave in a hurry. 

“Anything to report?”

Inatut shook his head, his shoulders sagging a fraction. “No sign of movement from Sunfall. First and second watches were quiet,” he said. 

Kotallo arched a brow at the hint of disappointment in his tone. “Quiet is good.”

“I know, I know,” Inatut said, wincing. He squinted his eyes at Kotallo as he rotated his neck. “Are you certain you want to wake up now? It has only been a few hours since you slept. The others are keeping watch, anyway.”

Kotallo stared at the wound on his right shoulder as he stretched his back, flexing to loosen his muscles. “I will sleep easy once we arrive at our destination,” he said. Then he clapped his hand on Inatut’s arm. “Go and rest.”

The other man nodded as he straightened and walked inside one of the tents. Kotallo stood, tilting his head to look up at where the mountain range broke off, and saw a silhouette of a person stationed there. He scanned the camp again, and saw the other hunters that had been assigned to the third watch scattered around, stretching their backs and brandishing their weapons. Once he was satisfied that the camp was covered from all fronts, he looked back at Aloy and dusted off his top and pants, wondering why she was just staring intently into the fire, rubbing her thumbs at what he could now see was a small cup in her hands. 

She looked up as he approached, her usual smile missing as he sat a foot from her on her left. She handed the cup silently to him and jerked her chin at it before gazing back into the fire. 

Kotallo took a cautious sniff of the warm, dark liquid within. It smelled almost like burnt wood. “What is in this?” he asked, but Aloy merely shrugged. He brought the cup to his lips, took a small sip, and winced, pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised that it tasted as bad as it smelled.

Aloy huffed beside him, and his shoulders relaxed, relieved to see a hint of her smile. “Got it from Inatut,” she said, her smile slowly widening into that mischievous smirk he was becoming used to. “It would be rude if you don’t finish it.”

Kotallo grunted. “Why didn’t you finish it, then?”

“It tastes awful,” she said, wrinkling her nose. 

“Now who’s rude?” he said with a smirk and threw the remaining contents of the cup into the fire, making it flicker for a moment.

“You’ll hurt Inatut’s feelings.”

“Inatut is asleep,” he said, putting the cup down in front of him and placing his palm on the grass behind him to lean against it. He bit back a sigh of frustration as he realized that this position tilted his torso awkwardly; just one of the many things that wouldn’t happen if he still had both of his arms. 

Kotallo sat forward and brought his right knee up to place his arm there, instead. “How long have you been awake?”

“A few hours,” Aloy said with a shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.”

She frowned at the ground, her fingers fiddling with the grass. “Night terrors?” he asked softly, pursing his lips when she sighed and nodded. “What about?”

Aloy frowned even further and started tugging the grass. He waited for her to speak, but she merely looked back at him again and lifted her shoulders in another shrug, her eyebrows raising and falling in time with her shoulders. “I have them, too,” he confessed. He shifted his arm, placed his elbow on his knee, and leaned his chin against his knuckles. 

“What about?” she asked.

He really couldn’t say. Most of his dreams did not make sense: words remembered but uttered by the wrong people, unexpected faces appearing in strange places, his left arm whole but his right gone. He couldn’t even remember most of the details once he woke up, only that it made his heart race all the same. He looked back at Aloy and shrugged as she did, and received a nod in return. 

Kotallo stared into the fire, watching it dance with the gentle breeze. Drowsiness slowly crept in and he had to blink hard a few times to rid himself of it. It was a peaceful night, quiet except for the sounds of the wilds that normally accompanied it. 

“Do you…”

He waited for her to continue, watching as she chewed on her lip and began adding to the pile of grass she’d wrenched from the ground. “What is it, Aloy?” he mumbled.

“Do you—are your parents—” she let out a mighty sigh. “Are your parents still in the Clan Lands?”

Kotallo shook his head. “They were killed in a clan skirmish when I was very young.”

“Oh,” Aloy said, looking like she regretted asking. “I’m sorry.”

“It happened a long time ago,” he said with a shrug, even as he felt a dull but familiar ache. It only ever smarted when he tried to picture the faces of his mother and father, and could only remember their vague outlines. “I barely even remember them.”

“How old were you when they died?”

“Five, perhaps?”

“But then, who—,” Aloy paused and bit her lip again, looking at him cautiously. “You didn’t have to grow up alone, did you?”

Kotallo shook his head. “I was raised by my squad, like the other orphans in the Sky Clan.”

“There were other orphans?”

“It was not uncommon during the Clan Wars, the practice almost dying when Hekarro became chief. But the Red Raids have undoubtedly created more orphans to be cared for by their squads,” he said, studying her face as it relaxed. He thought she might’ve been relieved that he didn’t have to fend for himself as a child. “The Tenakth take care of their own, regardless of blood.”

Aloy hummed and resumed tugging at the grass. “Did you like growing up in the Sky Clan?”

Kotallo nodded, his lips turning at the corners. “We begin training at five or six-years-old, but most of it felt like play. We would train at stealth by hiding in the snow and hurling snowballs at each other instead of spears.”

“There’s snow in the Sky Clan?”

“It snows all-year long there, yes.”

Aloy chuckled. “Born and raised in snow and ice. No wonder you get along with the Banuk.”

It was a thought that had crossed his mind before as he watched them train at the Shattered Kiln, stubbornly refusing to shed their heavy furs until the afternoon sun shone high above their heads. “Our warriors do not wear many layers as the Banuk do. No matter how cold the winds blow.”

She arched a brow at him. “So what are you saying?”

Kotallo smirked. “Nothing.”

“You’re saying that the Sky Clan’s warriors put theirs to shame, aren’t you?”

“Your words, not mine,” he said, chuckling low. “And do not let Inatut hear you say that.”

Aloy scoffed. “As if he needs an excuse to fight you.” She hummed, then, and tilted her head. “So how did you become a Marshal?”

“I was sent to the Kulrut to become one. Trial-by-combat against machines,” he added at her confused look.

“You were sent? You didn’t volunteer?” she asked. Kotallo shook his head. “Who sent you?”

The rush of blood in his ears and the taste of ash in his mouth extinguished any of the lingering lethargy he felt. “Tekotteh did.”

“Tekotteh?” Aloy muttered, her forehead creasing. “Tekotteh is the new chief,” she said slowly.

“Yes.”

“He’s the bastard that murdered Hekarro.”

He huffed despite himself, tickled at the anger creeping in Aloy’s voice. “Yes. He was the commander of the Sky Clan before that.”

“But why would he send you to become a Marshal?”

“Because he was afraid,” he said, staring back into the fire. “I led my squad on a dangerous climb into the Daunt. It was I who opened the gates at Barren Light from the east side, allowing the Tenakth to raze it.”

“That must’ve gotten you some attention.”

“Indeed. I was welcomed home as a hero. And I was content.” He sighed, closing his eyes as he straightened his back. It was an old hurt, eclipsed by Tekotteh’s latest betrayal, but it hurt nevertheless. “I didn’t know my father, so I placed my hopes in Tekotteh. I would have obeyed his every order, back then,” he said, feeling a speck of shame as he remembered how naive he had been in his youth, fighting hard for Tekotteh’s attention and preening any time he did. “I was too blind to see the fear in his eyes. Fear of a rising young warrior challenging his command of the clan. I returned a hero from the battle at Barren Light. But to him, I was only a threat.”

“So, he sent you away,” Aloy said softly. “But wouldn’t you be able to challenge him anyway as a Marshal?”

Kotallo shook his head. “Marshals forsake their clan of birth to serve the Tenakth as a whole. I’d never be allowed to challenge his command.” He huffed, shaking his head. Kotallo had only wished to remain by his side, a mighty son of the Sky Clan. “Not that I ever wanted to.”

Aloy slid her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, placing her cheek on her knee as she looked at him. “Kotallo, did he—was he the one who…” she trailed off, her lips pressed in a firm line.

He dragged in a slow breath and closed his eyes, but opened them again when the memory of how he lost his arm flashed behind his eyelids. He stared back into the fire, but all that did was remind him of the searing pain in the healing hut afterwards. Aloy was still looking at him, and he found himself staring at her eyes, instead: bright like the clusters of greenshine scattered throughout the Clan Lands, green like the lush jungle that surrounded the Memorial Grove.

“Yes,” he said, feeling a wave of calm sweep over him despite his admission. “Yes, he was.”

Aloy clenched her jaw and straightened, her hands gripping her knees. She looked away from him and faced the fire, breathing deeply, her expression hard. He’d seen her make this face at the Shattered Kiln, just before she declared that the Tenakth were wrong to think him weak because he’d lost his arm. He found himself anticipating what she would say, wondering if it would surprise him just like last time.

Her face had turned pensive when she looked back at him, as if she was weighing options. “You don’t want to be chief,” she said. “But if you had the chance to kill Tekotteh, and no one had to know it was you, would you do it?”

Kotallo scoffed. “No.”

“Even if it meant taking revenge for Hekarro? For yourself?”

He huffed and shook his head at her. “Do you hear yourself?” he asked, curling his lip. “To kill Tekotteh in such a way would be dishonorable.”

Aloy’s mouth fell open. “Dishonorable?” she asked, her voice rising. She realized it, too, and looked around quickly. “This is the man who killed your chief,” she said through clenched teeth, in a much lower voice. “The man who—who took your arm and sent you here to die. The last thing he deserves is an honorable death!”

Kotallo rubbed his mouth and fought the urge to throttle her. “It does not matter what he deserves, Aloy, “ he said, his tone twisting derisively around the sound of her name. He tapped his chest twice. “I will not expunge my honor to fulfill my desire for revenge.”

But would you do it for the good of your tribe? a terrible voice whispered in his mind. Kotallo shook his head again. No, he thought, and sighed. “Perhaps it is my pride, but—”

“No,” Aloy interjected. “It isn’t pride,” she said with a sigh and quirk of her lip. “You’re just a good man.”

She continued to stare at him, her face turning somber, but it almost felt as if she was looking through him, not at him. She hardly blinked, even as a strong wind blew and ruffled her hair. Her eyes would gaze into his, then trace their way around his face. 

“What is it?” Kotallo asked when the silence became unbearable.

“You’re so different,” she whispered. “But sometimes you remind me of Rost.”

She’d been lost again in her memories, he realized. “I’m not surprised that I do, since Rost was a good man too, based on what you’ve told me,” he said with a small smile, hoping to coax out one of her own. 

His efforts were not in vain. Aloy smiled and rolled her eyes, before looking back into the fire. “You’re so full of yourself.”

Kotallo suddenly felt the desire to know everything there was to know about the kind of man Rost was; a man who had taken a newborn in without question, raised her like she was his own, trained her to prepare her for the Proving, and sacrificed his life so that she could live on. Aloy fought well, so he must have been a great warrior. She was compassionate beyond measure, so he must have been as well. 

“Will you tell me about him?” he asked.

“Sure,” Aloy said with a half-smile. “Um, Rost was a good cook,” she said, shrugging as she chuckled. “He could make anything taste good. Uh, he was a stickler for the rules, believed in upholding Nora law even though we were outcasts. I was a stubborn kid, so we argued a lot.” 

Kotallo smiled and leaned his chin against his knuckles again as he listened. “I can imagine.”

She narrowed her eyes at him before sighing and staring at him as she did before. “Many times I’d approach some of the kids around the settlements. Rost would always tell me not to do it. ‘Do not tempt others into breaking the law. They honor us with their silence,’ he’d tell me,” she said, adopting a deeper voice at the end. Then she frowned and reached up to rub her nose. “I’d come home crying because someone said or did something and he’d… He’d, um—”

Aloy looked away abruptly towards the river, hiding her face from him. She was breathing so deeply that her shoulders visibly rose and fell. Kotallo pressed his lips to his knuckles, clenching his fist to keep from reaching for her, knowing that his touch would just make her uncomfortable. 

Her eyes shone when she looked back at him, staring at him unflinchingly. “He’d just be there,” she said with a shrug. “That’s why you remind me of him.”

Kotallo’s forehead creased. “I don’t understand.”

“You think it’s stupid to even want to go to the Cauldron.”

“Well—,” he paused and was confused even further by the expectant look on her face. “It is a silly idea, yes.”

“But, say I found a way to get us inside…would you still follow me in?”

“Yes,” he said immediately, but frowned after. To do so would be foolish, not to mention incredibly dangerous. They would not be able to accurately prepare for whatever would be waiting for them inside. 

Aloy leaned towards him, her eyebrows raised. “Even if you thought it was stupid and reckless?”

“Yes,” he said again. He arched his brow. “As I’ve said, someone has to keep an eye on you.”

She smiled, a tiny huff of a laugh escaping her lips. Her eyes snapped upwards to his head, and her smile turned into a wide grin as she took out a knife from her boot and wiggled it in front of her. 

Kotallo eyed the knife as its edge glinted, catching the light from the fire. “That is not threatening at all.”

“Let me shave your head,” Aloy said, clapping her other hand on her knee and standing swiftly.

“Now?” he asked, looking up at her with wide eyes. “We are supposed to be keeping watch.”

She pointed the knife upwards to the mountain range and then to the different points around the camp where Kopilai’s hunters were stationed. “We’re not keeping watch, they are. We’re just two people who can’t sleep.”

“But it is still dark.”

Aloy pointed the knife towards the campfire. She sighed. “Come on, Kotallo. Don’t you trust me?” 

Kotallo eyed the knife again, before standing up as well. “Fine,” he said, and unbuckled the leather belt strung across his torso. 

“Uh, what are you doing?” Aloy asked, stepping back.

“I do not want any hairs to—,” he stopped, his hand pausing around the hem of his top at the trepidation written clearly on her face. He moved his hand away from his torso slowly and turned it over so his palm was facing her. “I will keep it on.”

She ran a hand through her hair and rolled her eyes. “Take it off.”

Kotallo searched her face for any further signs of discomfort. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve seen shirtless men before, Kotallo,” she said, frowning at him. “I was just—just warn me next time, okay?” Aloy pointed to his top with her knife. “Come on, hurry up.”

“Stop waving that knife around,” he grumbled as raised the hem of the top, leaning forward, then stiffened when he realized he would have to shimmy out of it as he normally had to when doffing to bathe. Would Aloy think it strange?

“Why? Am I making you nervous?”

Kotallo looked up at her and saw that she had her brow arched playfully at him while she made small circles in the air with the point of the knife. His shoulders loosened and he released the breath that he was holding. “A little,” he admitted as she disappeared from view. 

Aloy was quiet when he was finally able to remove his top, the hood catching on his hair. She was staring at his torso, curiosity evident on her face. “Your tattoos are beautiful,” she said as she circled him. She reached out and stroked one on his side, on his waist, making him flinch away from her. 

“What was that?” she asked, her eyes wide, the corner of her lips curling upwards.

He growled low in his throat. “Nothing.”

Her lips widened slowly into a grin. “Kotallo,” she said in a teasing tone. “Are you ticklish?”

Kotallo scoffed. “I am n—”

Aloy’s empty hand darted out, quick as lightning, and poked him in that same spot. He let out an undignified yelp as he did a half-turn, to keep his waist away from her. “Stop that,” he growled. 

“That’s so strange,” she said, chuckling.

He frowned and turned his torso again slightly so that his stump was hidden. “What is?” he asked, lifting his chin.

“You’re a large, intimidating man who’s ticklish.”

Kotallo huffed, relaxing again. “That’s not strange. It is normal to be ti—” he stopped short at her raised eyebrows. He growled again. “Will you shave my head or not?”

Aloy laughed, then ducked her head and looked around. Satisfied that she hadn’t woken anyone, she pointed the knife to the ground in front of her. “Alright, I’ll stop teasing you. Sit over here.”

He did as she asked, frowning as he sat cross-legged facing the fire. Aloy hummed behind him, then heard the crunching of grass. He stiffened when he felt the wooden beads around her neck brushing against his bare back. “Relax,” she whispered, putting her cool hand on his shoulder. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Kotallo breathed deeply a few times until his shoulders relaxed. Aloy removed her hand a second later. Then he heard her fumbling around behind him. “What are you doing?” he asked, turning his head to take a look.

She brought out a small clay pot from one of the leather pouches tied to her belt. She took off the lid and brought it to his face for him to inspect. Inside was a clear substance that looked almost like liquid, but for how it did not slosh around the pot and stayed in shape. “What is it?”

“It’s gel from an aloe vera plant,” Aloy said, dipping her finger in the pot and brushing some on his shoulder. The gel was cool to the skin. He leaned forward to take a sniff and hummed in thought, smelling nothing. “The Carja call it something else, but I can’t remember what.”

“I have not seen anything like this that wasn’t poisonous.”

“It’ll be fine,” she said and pushed Kotallo’s chin so that he was facing towards the fire, then pushed the top of his head down so that his chin touched the base of his throat. He flinched when he felt her gel-covered fingers brush against the top of his nape. “What do the Tenakth use to shave?”

“A sharp blade.”

“Wait, that’s it?”

“Sometimes with water, if it is available.”

Aloy scoffed. “You guys are hardcore.”

“What does that word mean?” he asked, frowning and touching his stomach. 

“Intense, that’s what it means. Okay, I’m gonna shave this part first. Don’t flinch and don’t fall asleep,” she said, just before he felt the cool of metal gliding down from the base of his skull. 

“Why would I fall asleep?”

“You always get that sleepy look when I’m binding your hair.”

She’s discovering all of my weaknesses, he thought with a frown, closing his eyes. Aloy wasn’t wrong. Already he could feel himself growing more relaxed, her gentle touches calming him, soothing his thoughts. “Don’t sleep,” she muttered.

“I won’t,” he grumbled.

After several minutes, Aloy straightened and wiped the back of his head and neck with something that felt like rough leather. “Okay, that part’s done,” she said.

Kotallo opened his eyes and glanced to the side. “Are you using my leather armor to wipe off the gel?”

“Sorry, it’s the only thing I can use right now,” she said with a chuckle. He clicked his tongue and closed his eyes again. He’d just wash off the gel after. 

Kotallo felt Aloy shift to his left side, her clothes brushing against his stump. He snapped his eyes open and cast a wary glance at her, but she was only staring intently at the side of his head. “Tilt your head this way,” she muttered, pushing the top of his head gently to the right. 

Aloy frowned at him. “I told you to relax,” she said, then looked at his ear. “I’ll be careful.”

He willed his shoulders to drop, but his heart was still fluttering in his chest. He cleared his throat. “It does not hurt.”

She brushed her thumb against the shell of his ear, making him sigh and close his eyes. “What happened?”

Kotallo grunted. “Too many hits in the melee pit when I was younger.”

Aloy hummed, then brushed the side of his neck with a finger. He flinched at her feather-light touch and reached out around his front to smack the side of her thigh. “Stop that,” he growled as she laughed.

“Okay, okay, hold still.” 

He grumbled under his breath, but did as she asked as she applied gel to the side of his head. He kept his eyes on her as she worked and found that, this close, he could clearly see the freckles scattered across her nose and around her cheeks, like the stars that dotted the night sky. Her finely-shaped eyebrows were darker than her hair.

“How would you like it if I watched you while you were concentrating?”

Kotallo smirked at her peevish tone. “You can watch me anytime, Aloy,” he said, before studying her face again. “I don’t think I’ve seen green eyes as bright as yours before. Or red hair, for that matter.”

“Yeah,” she grumbled and rolled her eyes. “I stick out like a sore thumb.”

He frowned, not liking her tone. “You ‘stick out’ because you are an exceptional warrior with a great mind, and a heart to match.”

The blush that spread out on her cheeks made Kotallo smile, feeling pleased with himself. “Uh, thanks, I guess,” she muttered. 

“Okay, that’s done,” she said, wiping the gel off. “Shift towards me? That way I don’t block the light.”

Kotallo lifted his hips with his hand on the ground just as Aloy sat on her haunches. His throat suddenly felt dry as she started applying the gel above his forehead, realizing how close their faces were. Aloy didn’t seem uncomfortable with the proximity, though. Her eyes were trained on his head, and his eyes tracked the movement of her tongue as it swept across her bottom lip. 

Blood of the Ten, he thought angrily to himself, and closed his eyes. You are pathetic.

It had been weeks since he’d pleasured himself, and months since he’d last held someone. One of Hekarro’s guards had flirted with him and they’d shared a few nights here and there whenever he was at the Grove. She’d been attracted to him since she first laid eyes on him, she had said, gazing at him with eyes full of desire. 

But then he lost his arm, and he recalled seeing her face in the crowd, her eyes wide with disgust. 

“What’s wrong?”

Kotallo opened his eyes, feeling Aloy’s sticky fingers on his cheek. Her brows furrowed with worry as she searched his face. “You okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” he said, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat and shook his head. “No, you did not hurt me.”

Aloy hummed and went back to gliding the edge of her knife gently against his scalp, stray hairs fluttering between them. “What were you thinking about?” she asked.

He swallowed and looked down at his hand, not wanting to break down in front of her again. “My people,” he found himself saying. “How they looked at me after I lost my arm. As if it was all they could see.”

The blade stopped moving, and suddenly her thumb was on the bottom of his chin, the rest of her fingers spread on his cheek, gently tilting his head upwards. He hesitated but looked up at her, wary of the pity he might find in her eyes. But there was no pity there.

Her green eyes stared into his own, before slowly tracing his face with her gaze. She sighed when she looked back into his eyes. “I see you,” she whispered.

Kotallo’s lips parted as he inhaled sharply. He closed his eyes as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He felt incredibly raw. With just three words, Aloy scraped him wide open.

“I see you,” she whispered again and he couldn’t help but reach out to grasp her hand on his face, his hand dwarfing hers, as he breathed out shakily. 

He dragged in another breath, dropped his hand, and nodded, but kept his eyes shut. Aloy went back to shaving the front of his head, working in silence. He shifted again, when she told him to, so that she could work on the right side. Neither of them spoke. He couldn’t yet, even if he wanted to, and he suspected that Aloy was giving him time to sort through his emotions. 

It was difficult to say what he was feeling. Like his dreams, they writhed together with his thoughts, forming a confusing mess that sat heavily on his chest, as if a behemoth had stomped on him. He focused his senses on Aloy, the warmth emanating from her, the feel of her tacky fingers on his skin and hair, her soft voice as she instructed him to tilt his head this way and that. Her presence calmed him like no other and as the world brightened around them, the sounds of shifting making its way to them from the tents, his thoughts quieted and the tightening in his chest disappeared.

“I’m done,” Aloy muttered, leaning back to inspect her work, a small smile on her face as she shifted her legs to sit on the ground and tuck her knife back in her boot. “Wanna take a look?” she asked, jerking her head towards the river. 

Kotallo hesitated, looking to the river, unsure if he was ready to see his reflection, afraid that it would trigger another set of emotions he didn’t want to face as everyone was waking. He cleared his throat as he looked back at her. “Later, perhaps.”

“Alright,” she said, then tilted her head. She continued to inspect his hair, brushing her fingers along his forehead and the top of his ears. She then shrugged and grinned at him. “Well, it looks good. You’re just gonna have to take my word for it.”

He stared at her, her eyes crinkled at the corners, and her hair slowly becoming brighter under the rising sun. He could feel his chest tightening again, this time with gratitude, the three words she whispered to him earlier swirling in his mind. I see you, I see you, I see you.

If she wanted to go into that Cauldron, he’d follow her in and face whatever horror waited for them inside. If she told him she wanted to storm Meridian today to kill the man who murdered her father, he’d charge into the Carja capital with her and eliminate all who stood in her way.

Kotallo huffed and offered her a small smile. “I trust you.”

Chapter Text

The sounds of chatter and the Carjas' clattering of utensils filled the camp as the river babbled next to them. Everyone had woken in high spirits after a full night’s rest, and Kotallo had allowed the camp to sit and have a full breakfast before setting out again. It was still early, the sun had not made its way fully into the sky, still painted mostly with hues of orange. Machines had not attacked them in the night, nor Carja soldiers from any direction.

“It’s nice to see everyone chipper this morning,” Varl commented, surveying the camp from where they were sitting on the ground, before scooping a nice helping of roasted boar into his mouth. 

Smiling at Varl, Zo nodded and wiped off grease from the corner of his lips with her thumb. “Even the hardiest plants need respite from the harsh rays of the sun.”

Wiping her own mouth, Kopilai arched her brow at Kotallo. “This is only delaying our journey.”

“Last night was difficult for everyone,” Kotallo said with a shrug. “They deserved to rest.”

“We could’ve done that at Pitchcliff,” Kopilai said.

Kotallo looked away from her and frowned down at his plate. Varl and Aloy had vouched for their friend, Erend, but as far as Kotallo knew, this Erend was not the leader of the settlement. He didn’t know how much sway their friend had as the Oseram rebellion’s second-in-command, but his gut was telling him that it would not be so easy. Especially not after he learned that the Oseram had been hit the hardest by the Red Raids, due to their proximity to the Carja capital. 

“It’ll be fine,” Aloy muttered, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. “Stop worrying so much.”

Putting his plate down, Kotallo huffed and straightened. “Tell me again what’s waiting for us," he said. The others all turned their heads to Aloy, their attentions piqued. "What machines will we have to face on the way to Pitchcliff?"

"Snapmaws and shell-walkers. There was a behemoth convoy, but they were across the river."

Kotallo's eyebrows leapt. "Snapmaws? You didn't mention any snapmaws last night."

Aloy frowned. "Yes, I did," she said, before tapping her trinket and swiping her fingers through the air.

Opting to let Aloy do what she was doing, Kotallo scanned the field then waved a hand to the remaining Banuk not on active watch duty. He pointed to Aluki when he caught their group's attention, and she made her way to them. 

"How would you like to clear the way for us?" he asked as she approached. “There are snapmaws…” he trailed off, looking to Aloy to continue.

“There are snapmaws, three of them, just a little ways down there,” Aloy said, pointing down the road.

Aluki's eyes brightened immediately. “Snapmaws,” she cooed, her voice trembling as she stared at Kotallo. Then she set off at an eager jog without another word, taking her spear from her back. 

Shaking his head, Kotallo turned back to his plate but noticed Kopilai’s stare and how the corners of her mouth were turned downwards. He huffed and bumped his right shoulder to hers. “We’re almost to Pitchcliff,” he mumbled. 

“Watch it,” she hissed, glaring at him as her hand came up to cover her side where her wound was. “I’m not threatened, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Smirking, Kotallo shrugged and went back to eating, ignoring Kopilai’s scoff. As he chewed, he noticed that Aloy was still frowning. He swallowed and sipped water from his cup. “Well?” he asked. “Did you tell me about the snapmaws or not?”

Shaking her head, the frown still on her face, Aloy ripped a piece of boar and put it in her mouth, keeping her eyes on her plate. Kotallo hummed, amused at her pride, but decided not to rub salt further into the wound, especially since Aloy didn’t seem to be in a teasing mood.

By mid-morning, everyone was ready to leave: they had all finished eating, the tents and bedrolls had been packed away, and Kotallo had given the marching order, which wasn’t all that different from yesterday. Climbing on top of one of the bigger rocks, Kotallo gazed up ahead and finally saw Aluki approach with Inatut in tow, a satchel swung over his shoulder. He hadn’t even realized that Inatut had accompanied her.

Aluki looked up at Kotallo, his form casting a long shadow over her and Inatut. “I got them all,” she said in a dreamy voice, her eyes shining. “Thank you.”

Kotallo smiled, pleased that he had assumed correctly that Aluki was more fond of hunting machines than people. “Are you ready to take up your post?” he asked, jerking his head toward the mountain range.

Nodding, Aluki walked to the back of the group, then made her way up, a visible skip in her step. Turning to the three Oseram at the front, Kotallo pointed to the road. “Move out!” 

Kotallo jumped down beside Inatut and peered at his quiver. It was still full of arrows, and unlike Aluki, Inatut didn’t seem winded. “She required no assistance?” he asked.

Inatut shrugged. “I am not the brightest, but I know better than to come between her and any machine she’s marked as her prey.”

Gesturing to the road ahead, Kotallo walked side-by-side with Inatut, carefully positioning himself on Inatut’s left, as he quickly scanned the group and spotted Aloy walking with Varga next to her and her father’s cart. Varga was talking animatedly as Aloy listened, dutifully nodding her head.

Kotallo turned back to Inatut. “If you had no plans to assist her, why did you accompany her on her hunt?”

“To render reinforcements, if she needed it,” the other man said, shrugging again as if his point was obvious, though his face was carefully blank.

Kotallo hummed. “I see,” he said with a smirk.

Inatut scoffed. “I will not deny it. I have a soft spot for that woman, though she is more interested in the hunt than anything else,” he said, glancing behind them. Then he shot Kotallo with a smirk of his own. “You would know all about that.”

His eyebrows leapt, then he frowned. “What do you mean?”

Inatut blinked at him, then leaned in close to peer at Kotallo with narrowed eyes. “I am seriously re-thinking my assessment of you, my friend.”

Kotallo opened his mouth to ask what Inatut meant, when the whole group halted to a stop. He immediately saw what they were staring at. 

In front of them were the carcasses of three snapmaws, their stripped bodies blocking half of the path, but what truly caught their attention were the two enormous machines across the river. Releasing a sigh of relief, Kotallo observed that they were dead, the lights gone from their eyes, the large gears in their maws and their large feet unmoving.

“Rockbreakers. They were already dead when we arrived,” Inatut said before Kotallo could ask. “I’m not sure what killed them.”

From his periphery, he saw that Aloy had moved closer to the river, staring at the rockbreakers. Excusing himself, Kotallo walked to Varl and put his hand on his shoulder. “Go on ahead,” he told him. “We will catch up.”

Varl stared warily at the rockbreakers before nodding. “Alright.”

The rest of the group trudged along, with Varl and the others guiding them, circling around the dead snapmaws. Kotallo waited until they were out of earshot before approaching Aloy. “What do you see?” he mumbled.

Sighing, Aloy shook her head. “They’re too far. I’m out of range.”

Kotallo wasn’t sure what she meant, but continued to look at her until she looked back at him. He could tell that she wanted to take a closer look, so he took his spear from his back, the strap falling easily from his shoulder. “Lead the way.”

She arched her brow at him. “What if there’s another one underground?”

“Then we run,” he said simply, shrugging his good shoulder.

Aloy frowned at him, even as she grabbed her bow. “Look who’s being reckless now.”

Kotallo huffed and followed her, wading carefully through the river. “You are a bad influence. Perhaps I should stop spending time with you,” he said and waited for her scathing response. 

He frowned when it did not come, but didn’t push Aloy further, choosing to sweep his eyes over their surroundings instead. It was much drier here on this side of the river, with only a few desert plants scattered sporadically around them, the wind carrying dust and sand. The rockbreakers didn’t move, but Kotallo’s skin prickled as they approached, the machines’ hulking bodies towering over them. 

“What killed them?” he muttered, almost to himself. He followed Aloy as she silently walked behind one of the rockbreakers and saw the answer to his question. 

Three behemoths lay on the ground, their metal casings bashed in. If it were not for the circular yellow containers, Kotallo might not have recognized them. “The convoy you mentioned?”

“Yeah,” Aloy said, then reached up to tap her trinket. Whatever she saw had her inhaling sharply. 

Gripping his spear tighter, Kotallo moved closer to her. “What is it?”

She swept her hand over the behemoth carcasses. “This convoy came from Cauldron Zeta,” she mumbled.

“What is Cauldron Zeta?”

“It’s the Cauldron near the Unflinching Watch,” Aloy said, crouching beside one of them. Then she darted her eyes over to him. “It’s hard to explain—”

“I believe you,” Kotallo interjected, glancing at her trinket, before looking back at the behemoths. “We have machine convoys like this in the Clan Lands. They appear at regular intervals. So regular that our squads have learned to schedule their patrols to avoid them.”

“It’s the same over here.”

If that were true, and if Cauldrons had only one door, that meant that it would open to let these machines out. And if they could determine which days and times that happened, it would mean that they could possibly sneak inside. 

Aloy had found their way in. 

Looking back at her, Kotallo found that she was already staring at him, her eyes wary as she waited for him to connect the dots. Sighing, he turned to her then shot her a warning look. “Do not leave without me, Aloy.”

She scoffed, her eyes narrowing at him. “Why?”

“I told you I would come with you,” he said, feeling a pang in his chest at her tone and at the way she was glaring at him. “I gave you my word.” 

Biting the inside of her cheek, Aloy looked away and stowed her bow. Kotallo stared at the tense line of her shoulders until they disappeared and she turned back to him, her gaze trained on the ground. He waited for her to speak, and wondered what had happened in the few hours since they were alone by the river that had changed her mood so drastically. 

Finally, Aloy looked at him, her eyes turning wary again. “Okay,” she said.

Far from satisfied, but not knowing what else he could say, Kotallo nodded. “Good,” he said, then gestured back across the river. “We should head back.”

The walk back was filled with tense silence, though Kotallo wracked his mind as to how to break it as they left the desert behind and the sand they walked on turned to gravel. Even the temperature had shifted to something cooler as they slowly neared the snow-filled mountains in the distance. Had he said something to offend her? Taken a joke too far? It seemed highly unlikely, but what else could it be?

But Kotallo didn’t have time to wonder further. They could see that the group had come to a halt again, this time staring to the left side of the road, their gazes trained on something up on a large rock formation, too small to be considered a mountain. Painted on the rock were triangles: a red inverted triangle in the very center, surrounded by three blue triangles, and then enclosed in a bigger, teal triangle. Then he noticed fighters from Kopilai’s werak climbing up, including Inatut.

Kotallo approached Kopilai. “What’s—,” he glanced to the side as Aloy walked off without a word. Clenching his jaw, he turned back to Kopilai. “What is that?”

“It is a painting left by Arnak,” she said. Then she sighed. “Who would’ve thought we’d come across one?”

Gazing back to the painting, Kotallo squinted his eyes against the sun and put his hand on his hip. “Why is it important?”

“Arnak is a legendary Banuk hunter who was exiled from Ban-Ur for killing his chief, Signak,” Kopilai explained, arching a brow at him. “Arnak had an affair with Signak’s wife that resulted in a son.” She shrugged. “Naturally, they accused him of the crime.”

Jerking her head at the painting, Kopilai shifted her weight, humming thoughtfully. “It is said that Arnak came here and left paintings in locations that reminded him of Ban-Ur. With the paintings, he also left figures and letters to Tektuk, his son.”

Kotallo gazed sharply back to the painting when they heard a shout. One of the Banuk was waving his hands in the air. It took them a few minutes to come down and gather around him and Kopilai, handing her a figure that resembled a grazer, made with fabric, straws, and sticks, as well as a letter written on an old piece of parchment. 

He couldn’t understand any of the words. “What does it say?” 

Clearing her throat, Kopilai raised the parchment and read from it. “It is only because you will never read these glyphs that I can write them. After a lifetime of longing, I spent only a single night with Illi, your mother—”

“Just one night?” Inatut asked with wide eyes. The others shushed him into silence.

“—a memory that I cherished but she reviled, a burning coal of guilt she carried in her belly,” Kopilai continued. “And so I wonder: Was her guilt laid bare the night Signak our chieftain was killed? Did he discover the truth? Was she forced to defend herself? If only I had been there, to stand between them, to actually strike the blow I was punished for. At least then I would have been her champion, and the father you deserved, for a single moment. I paint this mark with eternal regret, and leave you this offering, though it will never touch the warmth of your hands.”

Sighing heavily, Kopilai folded the parchment and handed it off, along with the figure that came with it. She turned back to Kotallo, who had fallen silent, and stared at him as she waited for him to speak. 

Not completely blameless, but wrongfully exiled all the same, Kotallo thought, shaking his head, refusing to meet Kopilai’s gaze. “Did he ever see his son again or… Ban-Ur?” he asked softly.

She shook her head. “No. It was said that he died far from our homeland.”

Kotallo clicked his tongue and turned around to look across the river, at the great expanse of desert and dust that made part of Carja territory. 

Perhaps one day he would do as Arnak did: travel these strange lands to find landmarks that remind him of home. But in his heart, Kotallo knew he would never find a structure as massive and natural as the Bulwark, or as sacred as the Memorial Grove, or as terrifyingly endless and humbling as the great waters west of the Lowland clan. 

This was where he would die. And, like Arnak, Kotallo would never see his homeland again.

The rest of the way was blessedly uneventful, Aluki making quick work of the shell-walkers patrolling the path in between a thicket of tall trees that blocked the fading light from the sun. Kotallo found himself looking up at the trees, thinking to himself that they were not even half as tall as the trees in the Stand of the Sentinels, where the trees grew so tall that you wouldn’t be able to see the top if you stood at the base, even on the clearest day. Just another thing from the Clan Lands he wouldn’t be able to find here. 

The sun was setting when they had reached a small bridge, made out of wood, constructed over a small part of the river. It looked sturdy enough that their carts could cross safely. They stopped just before crossing, the civilians adding a few layers to their clothing to keep warm as they watched what looked to be like a pack of scrappers off in the distance in the mountains to the left of the road, their blue lights reflecting off of the snow. 

“Pitchcliff is just over there,” Aloy said, pointing north. She looked at Varl, then at Aldur, then at the two other Oseram who fought with them, before turning to Kotallo, her chin lifting. “You ready?”

They hadn't spoken since earlier when they were investigating the rockbreakers, not from a lack of trying on Kotallo's part, but because Aloy had flitted from person to person, making conversation about the most mundane things. But now she was addressing him directly. 

Kotallo smiled at her tentatively as he adjusted the strap of his spear on his shoulder. "I am always ready," he said, and waited with bated breath.

Her lips curling, Aloy rolled her eyes before turning away from them. “This way,” she said as she crossed the bridge.

Relieved, Kotallo sighed quietly and followed her, his eyes tracing the snowy mountains past the light mist that hung in the air. He frowned, feeling the skin of his arms tingling at the cold. Years spent as a Marshal at the Grove and spending nights in different parts of the Clan Lands seemed to have made him more susceptible to cooler temperatures. 

As they followed Aloy northward, Kotallo couldn’t help but notice that all of the trees in the area had been cut, leaving tree stumps peppered across the green field. Through the mist, he could see columns of black smoke rising up from what he presumed was Pitchcliff, tucked in between the mountains. It was made of stone, built upon rock, with lumber and metal reinforcing the circular structures. It all looked sturdy and practical, nothing like the decorative architecture the Carja seemed to favor. 

At the base, right beside the winding path that led to the settlement’s entrance, stood a smaller but similarly constructed structure that Kotallo assumed served as a sort of guardhouse. Standing next to it was a man sporting a mohawk and a thick, strange-looking beard that didn’t cover his chin, wearing metal-plated and ring-locked armor similar to Aldur’s, but with a large circular metal protecting his stomach, and a bright yellow scarf around his neck. 

Grinning at them as they approached, the man put his hands and arms out. “Saw you from a mile away,” he said. 

Varl laughed and jogged up to the man. They hugged and patted each other on the back, the man’s hand landing with large thuds on Varl’s back. “Almost didn’t recognize you with your new haircut,” Varl said as they parted.

The man ran his gloved hand over his brown hair and shrugged. “Ah, figured it was time for a change,” he said, then looked past Varl’s shoulder to grin at Aloy. “There’s a face I’ve been wanting to see for a while.”

Varl nudged him with his elbow. “So you haven’t been wanting to see my face?”

The man shrugged, but didn’t take his eyes off Aloy. “Well, you’re not as pretty as Aloy.”

Frowning, Kotallo glanced to the side to look at Aloy’s face, and his jaw clenched when he saw a bright smile on her face, her eyes twinkling. “It’s nice to see you too, Erend,” she said with a chuckle, stepping forward. Erend held his arms out just like before and raised his eyebrows at her. Aloy huffed and slowly wrapped her arms around his middle.

Kotallo let in a deep breath through the nose and held it for as long as he could. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised that she welcomed a hug from Erend. They had known each other longer and have fought together, as well. But the memory of how Aloy reacted to his touch at the watchtower in comparison to their friendly embrace, how she tensed at just a mere brush of his knuckles across her cheek, brought a hot, stinging flash in his chest.

Ridiculous, Kotallo thought. He was no longer a child, jealous at the sight of a friend having other friends. 

Kotallo straightened as Erend unwound his arms from Aloy and finally noticed him. “Woah,” he said, his eyes widening as he scanned Kotallo from top to bottom, his gaze pausing at his stump before moving back to Kotallo’s face. “You…you’re not Banuk.”

“I am not,” Kotallo said, ignoring the way his ears burned hot, and put a fist to his chest. “My name is Kotallo.”

Aloy stepped back from Erend. “Kotallo’s a Tenakth marshal. He kept us all alive on the way here,” she said to Erend, before looking at Kotallo.

Her radiant smile and the hint of pride in her voice made the hot, stinging flash cool into a soothing warmth that buzzed from his chest and settled in his stomach. He found himself smiling helplessly back at her. “An inaccurate statement,” he said.

Aloy shrugged, still smiling. “I’m sure the others would agree with me.”

Erend suddenly made a choking noise that pulled Kotallo’s attention away from Aloy. “A Tenakth, huh?” he said, his eyes widening further. He chuckled and fidgeted with his scarf. “Name’s Erend. And, uh, speaking of others… I thought there’d be more of you?”

“There are thirty-six of us,” Kotallo confirmed. “We left the rest by the bridge to come here and parley with the settlement’s leader.”

Shaking his head, Erend whistled low. “Thirty-six. That’s a lot.”

Varl’s forehead creased as he looked at Erend worryingly. “You think it’s going to be a problem?” he asked.

“Erend…” Aloy said, a warning in her tone.

Erend put his hands out. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’ll work out,” he said, before jerking his thumb towards Pitchcliff. “Let’s go up. I’ll introduce you to Ralert.”

“Who’s he?” Aloy asked.

“Ralert’s the mayor here. I’m sure I can persuade him if he makes a fuss,” Erend said, waggling his thick eyebrows before leaning in conspiratorially. “He owes Ersa and me, big time.”

“Are we finally meeting Ersa, then?” Varl asked.

Erend clicked his tongue. “Aww, you just missed her! She went back up to the Claim,” he said, nodding his chin further northwards. “We’re planning something big. I’ll tell you all about it later.”

The smell of smoke was stronger inside, and as they finally walked through the entrance, they were greeted by the sounds of multiple hammers clanging against metal. The inside was dour, almost gloomy in appearance, with several Oseram milling about, their clothes smudged with dust and dirt as they toiled in front of workbenches and handled several contraptions, both small and large, made with wood and metal. Several grumblings were heard, with complaints about the work, and other words such as ‘ale’, ‘Ralert’, and ‘Carja’ reached Kotallo’s ears as well.

They walked further up, their feet making the makeshift wooden path creak from their weight, and finally stopped at a set of steps next to a wall that had a yellow rope ladder hanging from it. Erend walked up to the ladder and put a hand on the first rung. “Ralert’s up here,” he said, then he fixed his gaze again on Kotallo’s stump. “Are you gonna be able to—”

“I will manage,” Kotallo said through gritted teeth. “Lead the way.”

Aldur tapped Kotallo’s shoulder as Erend climbed up, followed by Varl. “We’ll just stay down here, if you don’t mind.”

Kotallo nodded and turned around, bracing himself for the short climb. It wouldn’t be difficult, but he would no doubt look like a fool, climbing clumsily with only one hand to help him. But he stopped short at Aloy’s stare. “What is it?”

Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair and glanced up at the ladder, her brows furrowed. “I have a bad feeling,” she said softly.

“So do I,” he admitted.

Aloy looked back at him and a slow smile bloomed on her lips. “Well, if Erend can’t convince the mayor, I’m sure you can.”

Kotallo raised his eyebrows. “Why do you think so?”

“You have a way with words. You can talk anyone into doing anything.”

“Not you,” he said with a smirk, then flinched as she poked him in his side, too fast and sudden for him to dodge. 

“Hey, I listen to you,” Aloy said, her nose wrinkling. “I listen to you all the time.”

He arched his brow at her, words tumbling from his mouth before he could think better of it. “Perhaps you just like the sound of my voice.”

Aloy inhaled sharply, her eyes widening. Kotallo watched, fascinated, as her cheeks reddened as she stared at him. “I—”

“Um, guys?”

They both jolted and looked up at the sound of Varl’s voice. He was leaning over the railing, his eyebrows raised. “Could you do that later?”

Aloy scowled. “We weren’t doing anything,” she said as she swiftly turned away from Kotallo and started climbing up the ladder. 

Kotallo looked at the ground and rubbed his mouth. Shaking his head, he climbed up after her a few moments later. 

There was a large workbench off to the side, strewn with several metal tools and pieces of parchment, on top of what looked like barrels. Next to it, standing next to Erend, was a heavy-set man wearing a tall leather hat and a fur-lined vest. The man’s mustache was long, reaching past his chin, and it twitched at the sight of Kotallo. 

Erend thumped the man in the back. “This here’s Ralert,” he said. “These are the folks I told you about.”

Ralert frowned at Erend, then looked at the rest of them one-by-one. “I’m the mayor. Mostly because I was too drunk to say no when Ersa asked me.”

Erend snorted and opened his mouth but Aloy stepped forward, cutting him off from whatever he was about to say. “We’ve come a long way from the Shattered Kiln, near Sunfall.”

Ralert crossed his arms. “So I heard. And I hear you’ve brought a lot of people with you.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if we even have enough rooms to accommodate thirty-six additional people. Or food.”

“Some of us can stay in tents,” Varl said. “And we have hunters in the group that can help with food.”

A tense silence followed as they waited for Ralert to speak. He pursed his lips, tapping the floor with his boot. Finally, he shrugged. “I suppose that’s fine. My conscience wouldn’t be able to take it if I left innocent people to fend for themselves against those blasted Carja.”

Kotallo and Aloy’s eyes met in a brief glance. “We have Carja among the group,” he said, stepping forward to stand beside her.

Ralert let out an incredulous laugh, looking away from Kotallo to stare at Erend. When Erend didn’t laugh with him, Ralert turned back to glare at Kotallo. “We built this outpost to protect against the Carja! Now you’re telling me you’ve brought them here?”

“They are civilians. Not soldiers,” Kotallo said, raising his hand in a placating gesture. 

“No! Absolutely not!”

“We have children with us,” Varl said.

“I don’t care!”

Kotallo took another step closer to Ralert, regretting it when he saw the way the man’s eyes widened and how he recoiled away from him. Kotallo kept his hand raised in that same placating gesture. “There must be something that you want,” he said softly. “We’re willing to offer you whatever we can to ensure the people have a safe place to stay. Even if only temporarily, until we can plan for our next move.”

Ralert narrowed his eyes at Kotallo. “You wouldn’t happen to have a thunderjaw heart, would you?” 

Kotallo’s eyebrows shot up. “I—No.”

Erend swung his arm around Ralert’s shoulder and leaned in close. Kotallo couldn’t make out whatever Erend whispered in the mayor’s ear, but whatever it was only darkened Ralert’s expression further. He glared at Erend when he was done before sighing and turning back to Kotallo. He raised a finger in front of his face. “Fine, but I expect every single one of you and them to be put to work! I won’t have any entitled Carja in Pitchcliff!”

It was the best they could hope for. Kotallo knew that the matter was far from being completely settled, and it was likely that the Banuk would move on once Kopilai’s wound healed, but at least they would be able to stay for a while. He nodded to Ralert and made a show of stepping backwards, leaning forward slightly to show deference. “You have our thanks. If you are in need of a hunting party, whether for meat or for machine parts, you can count on us.”

“Bah! Go on, then, get them over there. But if even one Carja puts a toe out of line, you’re all out!”

They all nodded and, one-by-one, silently climbed back down the ladder. 

“And if even one of them leaves scrap on my watch, I’ll pick it up and make them eat it!”

They set up the people in tents right beside the mayor’s overlook at Ralert’s instruction to ‘make sure he can keep an eye on them’, while Erend provided rooms for the children and infirmed. By the time they were done, the sky was dark and the inside of the settlement glowed orange from the torches the Oseram lit.

“Here,” Erend said, handing a key to Varl and Zo. “Figured you and the missus could use some privacy.”

“We’re not—,” Varl stopped short at Zo’s smirk. “But of course I want to—”

“Thank you, Erend,” Zo interjected, taking the key and walking away with an amused smile. Varl clicked his tongue and glared at Erend before taking off after her. 

Erend snickered as he watched them, before turning back to Aloy and Kotallo. “There’s only one room left and it’s got two beds.” Kotallo glanced at Aloy and found her already looking up at him with an expression he couldn’t place. “But I figured you’d be wanting privacy, Aloy, so here—you can have my room. I’ll, uh, bunk with mister Tenakth marshal over here,” Erend said, handing a key to her and smiling nervously at Kotallo. “If you’re okay with that.”

“More than okay,” Kotallo said, pressing his nails against his palm. “I appreciate your assistance. We could not have done this without your interference earlier.”

“Oh, heh,” Erend said, shrugging and glancing at Aloy. “Anything for A—uh, friends. Anyway, I moved my stuff there, but there’s still plenty of room for yours.”

Kotallo swallowed the lump of grief in his throat at the reminder. “I do not need much room. I left my belongings back at the Shattered Kiln when we escaped in a hurry.”

Aloy whipped her head around to look at him. “Wait, didn’t I tell you that I—”

“No, no, no!”

They turned around at the sound of metal pans clanging loudly against the ground. Guhil, the Carja cook, was kneeling and attempting to stack them on top of each other. Kotallo jogged up to him and knelt to help. 

When he was done walking Guhil to his tent, Aloy was gone. Kotallo frowned and walked back to Erend. “Where is Aloy?”

Erend shrugged. “Said she needed to get something. So, uh, ready to see the room?” 

Kotallo nodded and followed him, nodding to Inatut and Aluki as he passed. Kopilai’s werak had opted to stay in tents and keep watch, Kopilai expressing suspicions about just how safe it was for everyone there. Kotallo couldn’t blame her. The entire settlement had stopped whatever they were doing to glare at the Carja, muttering insults as they passed.

“This is us,” Erend said, and opened the wooden door to the room. It was larger than Kotallo had expected, and lit from inside by lamps. Pressed against the walls on opposite sides were the two beds, only big enough for one person each. Barrels of ale and metal tools littered the corners of the room, but there was still enough space that they could fit another bed right in the middle if they chose to. 

“So,” Erend said, tugging again at the yellow scarf. “Which bed do you want?”

Truthfully, Kotallo wanted the bed on the right, so that his stump was closest to the wall. But he didn’t want to bring Erend’s attention to his stump again. “Either of the two would suffice.”

“Right, okay. I’ll take this one, then,” Erend said, walking to the bed on the left, to Kotallo’s relief. 

Kotallo walked to his assigned bed, took his spear from his shoulder, and placed it against the wall where he could reach it. When he turned back around, he found Erend staring at him warily from his own bed. “Is there a problem?” Kotallo asked.

Erend scratched his cheek. “There’s no easy way to ask this, but I gotta know… Is it true what they say about the Tenakth?”

“What do they say about the Tenakth?”

“Do you really—,” Erend hummed and fidgeted again with his scarf. “Do you really drink blood?”

Kotallo blinked. “No, we do not.”

Erend narrowed his eyes. “Really?”

Scoffing, Kotallo unbuckled the leather belt strung across his torso. “I speak truthfully. The Tenakth do not drink blood. But I can see why such rumors would have spread.”

“Oh? Why?”

“For the same reason we have heard that the Oseram are just a tribe of drunkards, not to be taken seriously,” Kotallo replied, arching his brow at Erend. “Lies spread by the Carja to sow fear or doubt, or both.”

Erend frowned, humming thoughtfully. “Well, that’s not exactly a lie, though. We are a bunch of drunkards. But, yeah, okay I get it,” he said, then slumped against the wall. 

Kotallo shook his head as he stared at him. “Relieved, are you?”

Erend winced. “Yeah, put my foot in my mouth. Should’ve thought better than to believe in rumors like that.” Then he tilted his head, the wall disturbing the back of his hair. “So what’s the story?”

Kotallo didn’t have to ask to know what Erend was pertaining to. He looked away from Erend and clenched his jaw.

“Uh, let me treat you to some Oseram ale, eh? Bet you don’t have that in the west.”

He stood up and brought out two steins from a wooden cabinet off to the side and walked out of the room before Kotallo could say a word. Shaking his head again, Kotallo sat on the edge of the bed and put his forehead against his palm. He had been right to think this morning that their move to Pitchcliff would be wrought with hardship. And he hoped he was wrong to think now that it would only get worse.

Before he could think more on it, however, someone knocked on the door. Kotallo stood up and opened it, expecting to see Erend with his hands full, but instead came face-to-face with Aloy, a satchel at her feet, her eyes glowing from the torch hanging by the door. “Hey,” she said. “Were you sleeping already?”

“No,” he said, unsure if he should be inviting her in. “Erend is not here.”

“Oh, I’m not here for Erend.”

“You…came to see me?” Kotallo asked.

Her face reddening, Aloy looked away, then picked up the satchel from the ground. “What you said earlier reminded me that I still had this. Or—well, I asked Varga to keep it safe.”

“What’s in it?” Kotallo asked, taking the satchel from her. He had to place it on the ground again to open it and his eyes widened at what was inside. 

He saw his metal headpiece first, then his large pauldron below it. It was his marshal armor, the one he thought he’d left behind at the Shattered Kiln. “This is why I couldn’t find you,” he murmured, thinking of how he scanned his surroundings back then as he was talking to Varl and Kopilai, looking for Aloy and wondering where she’d gone. 

“Well, yeah,” Aloy said, crossing her arms. “I went back to get my stuff, but saw your armor and thought you might want to bring it.”

Kotallo straightened, his eyes still on the contents of the satchel. Pursing his lips, he couldn’t help but think that it shouldn’t have even mattered that Aloy had managed to keep it safe for him. That it was pointless to even still want to keep it around. It was just added weight, unnecessary, a relic from the past, another reminder of his failures. 

“I think I know what you’re thinking,” he heard Aloy whisper. 

He looked at her and smiled. “I feel like you always know what I’m thinking.”

She huffed and crossed her arms, smiling shyly back at him. “Maybe not all the time,” she said. “I just understand, I guess. How a piece of armor or clothing can bring out…complicated feelings.”

Kotallo nodded his head at what she was wearing, what she almost always wore. “Your armor?”

Aloy uncrossed her arms and smoothed her hands over her thighs. “Yeah,” she said. “When I was a kid, I sort of saved this Nora boy from getting spotted by machines. He was older than me and he'd been climbing one of the trails, training for the Proving. But he fell and broke his ankle.”

“He thanked me after,” she continued, her smile turning wistful. “Even when he wasn’t even supposed to talk to me. I met him again, the night before my Proving. He gave up on being a brave and became a stitcher instead. Said he’d been waiting for me and put this together for when we’d meet again.” Aloy shrugged, looking down at herself. “It’s so obviously Nora,” she said with a sigh. “But it’s the first time someone gifted me with anything, other than Rost.”

Kotallo let his eyes trail over her form: studying the fur, animal hides and leather, though he’d seen her wear this many times. “You were wearing this at Sunfall, when you let me out of my prison cell.”

“Was I? I don’t remember.”

“You were,” he insisted, before smirking at her. “I remember because I thought how insufficient it was and how it didn’t look very protective.”

“It’s protective enough,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “And it’s really comfortable and soft. Softer than you’ll ever know.”

Kotallo scoffed. “If you say so.”

Aloy put her hands on her hips. “I do say so. Go ahead, feel it,” she said, then stiffened.

He stared at her face, at the defiant lift of her chin and at her wide eyes. She looked to be as surprised as he was at her sudden offer. He knew he should decline, for her sake, but as he continued to look at her, an itch started to form in his palm. “Are you sure?” 

Aloy put her hands down, letting it fall to the sides, and nodded once. His heart racing, Kotallo lifted his hand, his fingertips grazing the gray fur pelt draped over her shoulder. He let his hand hover there, his gut twisting with nerves. Biting her lip, Aloy kept her eyes on his as he moved closer to her, his hand still an inch from her shoulder, and his back blocking the light and casting a shadow on her face. Finally, she leaned against his hand.

The fur tickled his palm as he moved his hand over it. He kept his touch light as he swept his hand back and forth. Then he touched her sleeve, wrapping his fingers around her upper arm.

She was warmer than he expected, the heat of her skin seeping through her felt sleeve. His mouth dry, Kotallo watched his hand as it moved down slowly, absently thinking that she was right about how soft the material was. He let his hand travel further down, until his fingers reached the skin of her upper arm. Then he slipped his thumb up past the sleeve.

Her gasp had him looking back at her face. She let out a nervous chuckle, the puffs of her breath visible in the cold. “It’s soft, right?” she whispered, her voice trembling, and at his nod said, “I told you so.”

Kotallo continued to brush his fingers against her skin, engrossed in how smooth it was, and how Aloy’s breath was coming in faster the more he touched her. “Does it feel like this everywhere?” he asked, his voice as soft as hers had been.

Aloy dragged in a slow breath and swallowed, the movement in her throat had Kotallo staring for a moment at her neck. “Yeah.”

He shouldn’t push her, shouldn’t ask for more. This was enough. “Where?” he asked.

She blinked at him and lifted her right hand, her arm crossing over her stomach and placing her hand on her waist just above the waistband of her skirt. Kotallo slid his hand down her left arm, the tips of his fingers tingling, and slowly let go to place his palm above the top of her hand that was still clutching her side. “This is in the way,” he muttered, stroking her knuckles with his thumb.

Aloy pressed her lips together and slid her hand from under his until he could finally feel the curve of her waist. 

They jumped away from each other at the sound of loud footsteps coming down a set of stairs. Erend appeared a few seconds later, a stein in each hand. “Aloy! You’re just in time. Kotallo and I were just about to—”

“I’m gonna go,” Aloy said, turning away from them and jogging away, her long hair swaying behind her. 

Erend watched her leave as he climbed down the remaining steps, but Kotallo looked down at his hand, brushing his fingertips against his palm. So soft, he found himself thinking.

“Hey, Kotallo? Do you still want this?’

Kotallo looked up and stared at one of the steins Erend was holding, before snatching it from his hand and downing the ale in one go, his stomach churning at the effort, and his tongue curling at the bitterness. Erend was grinning at him when he finally lowered the stein from his mouth. 

“Now here’s a man who can hold his liquor!”

Chapter Text

A strong wind blew past, ruffling Kotallo’s hair, the cool air prickling his skin, but it wasn’t strong enough to drown out the dissonant howling from the lone ravager a few feet away. Listening for the machine’s heavy footsteps, Kotallo peeked from behind the boulder and saw that it had continued its patrol, the blue light from its body glowing brightly, visible even from far away in the darkness of the early morning. It walked away from where Kotallo was hidden to tread in the trail it had created, moving in that same circular path around the abandoned Oseram contraption as it had been doing when they’d snuck up on it.

Sweeping his eyes over the area, it took Kotallo a few seconds to spot Kopilai, hiding within the tall grass. Kotallo adjusted his grip on the javelin in his hand as their eyes met just before she jumped out of her hiding place with a shout, brandishing her spear and stabbing the ravager on its hind leg. 

The ravager jumped back, roaring at Kopilai, before its eyes glowed red and it pounced, swiping its massive paws in the air. She dodged, rolling on the ground. Moving away from his hiding place, Kotallo raised the javelin over his head, watching for any sign that Kopilai needed assistance. She was holding her own, so far, but as she dodged another swipe from the ravager, Kotallo saw that she still favored her left side.

This was the second time this week they were hunting a ravager, the second time this week that Kopilai had specifically requested his presence. Kotallo didn’t need to ask why. He knew that her pride would not allow her to have anyone from her werak witness any kind of weakness from her. It was important to her that she defeated the ravager on her own, she had told Kotallo, and for him to only step in if it was truly necessary. 

That was what he was watching for now. Kotallo had had to save her from the first ravager a few days ago, when Kopilai lost her balance, turning to the left, needlessly protecting her side. 

Kopilai attempted to hit the ravager’s power cell with a shock arrow, only for her shot to go wide, the ravager turning at the last moment, smashing its paws on the ground, sending a shock wave forward in her direction. She launched herself to the right, but couldn’t completely avoid it, and she fell spasming on the ground. 

The ravager widened its stance and its cannon began to glow blue, but Kopilai was still on the ground. “Kopilai, move!” Kotallo yelled, running forward and hurling the javelin towards the cannon. It took a direct hit, the cannon falling off of the ravager’s back, and it turned its huge head in Kotallo’s direction. 

Kotallo bared his teeth and stomped the ground, adrenaline coursing through him. “Come, machine filth!” he growled, bending his knees, waiting for the ravager to jump at him. 

The ravager pounced, and Kotallo rolled to the side and quickly stood up to sprint towards the fallen cannon. He slid on the dirt, grabbing the cannon, and pointing it at the ravager just as it started to run at him. Kotallo knew where the trigger was now, after examining the first ravager they felled a few days ago, and he pulled it now, releasing the first round of projectiles and hitting the ravager squarely on the head and body. 

He had to fire a second time, but the ravager fell at the end of it, its metal casing full of holes that emitted smoke.

Kotallo let the cannon go, sighing and slumping on the ground for a moment, before jogging towards Kopilai, swinging her right arm over his shoulder, gritting his teeth when her back brushed his stump. They trudged through the grass towards a rock and Kotallo helped her sit on it, Kopilai grunting and hissing as she did. “You’ve been spending so much time with Aloy, you’re starting to fight machines like her,” she said, letting her head fall backwards.

He paused, searching Kopilai’s face, trying to discern her meaning. But her eyes were closed, and she merely looked tired. “Her way is efficient,” Kotallo said, shrugging as he sat on the same rock, facing away from her. “You’re still favoring your left side.”

Releasing a heavy sigh, Kopilai took off her headdress and ran her gloved hand through her dark hair. “We can’t delay any further,” she said, looking at Kotallo. “I’ll try again in two days.”

“What is your hurry?”

Kopilai shook her head, pursing her lips as she leaned her elbows on her knees. “We’ve repaid our debt to Aloy, and now it’s time for me to lead my werak back to Ban-Ur. There’s nothing left for us here.”

Kotallo had suspected they would leave. He knew that it was only because Kopilai had gotten wounded in the battle at the Unflinching Watch that they were still here. Once the Banuk left, that would leave him, Aloy, Varl, and Zo to watch over the Carja. Kotallo could possibly ask Erend’s assistance, but he was not always around and had duties that called him away from time-to-time. 

As Kotallo thought, he noticed that Kopilai had been silent for a while. He turned her head to look at her and was surprised to see that she was staring at him, studying his face with a pensive look. “What is it?” he asked.

“Come with us,” she said.

Kotallo’s eyebrows rose. “Come with you?”

Nodding her head, Kopilai leaned closer. “Come with us to Ban-Ur. There’s nothing left for you here, either.”

He scoffed. “And there is something for me in Ban-Ur?”

Kopilai stood up from the rock and placed her headdress back on her head. “You’re a strong fighter, Kotallo. I have no doubt you’ll fit in well with the Banuk,” she said. Then, arching her brow, she crossed her arms in front of her. “I can even see you leading your own werak one day.”

Kotallo huffed, shaking his head at the suggestion, and stood up as well, dusting off his pants. “I can’t go with you.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“I can’t just leave, Kopilai.”

Her lips curling in a sneer, she shook her head at him, her eyes gleaming with disappointment. “Intent on protecting the same people that raided your tribe and would have cheered at your death in the Sun-Ring?”

Kotallo shot her a chiding look as he walked past her towards the fallen ravager. “They are of the same tribe, but they are not the same people. You should know that by now.”

Kopilai mimicked his expression. “Is it really because of them that you won’t leave?”

The power cell was still intact, and so was the freeze canister. At least they would have something to give to the quartermaster today. “Why else?” he asked as he knelt.

“You tell me.”

Kotallo took out a knife from his boot and slowly began to extract the power cell. He whipped his head around to look up at Kopilai as he handed it to her. “Speak plainly,” he said, then shoved the ravager with his shoulder so that it lay on its side, exposing the freeze canister to him. He sighed and rotated his shoulder, before extracting the freeze canister next.

“You don’t want to be apart from Aloy. That is your real reason.”

He paused, his stomach churning as he frowned up at her. “What are you talking about?”

Kopilai raised her eyebrows, lifting her hand and sweeping it to the side in a vague gesture. “You and Aloy…?”

Blinking up at her, Kotallo breathed in slowly, keeping his face blank. “Aloy and I are friends,” he said.

Kopilai scoffed and kicked dirt at his legs. “We are friends. You and Inatut are friends.”

Clicking his tongue, he kicked dirt back at her as he stood up. “You are mad.”

“And you are delusional,” she said, snatching the freeze canister from him with her other hand. She jerked her head at a rock a few feet away from them and started walking towards it. “My satchel is over there.”

Pressing his lips together, Kotallo followed Kopilai silently, their boots making crunching noises as they walked over the path, lightly sprinkled with snow. He swung the satchel over his shoulder once they placed both the power cell and the freeze canister inside, then sighed at Kopilai’s persistent stare.

“What?”

“Are you as stupid as Inatut says, or are you genuinely unaware of your own feelings?”

Walking past her to cross the wooden bridge, Kotallo looked away and refused to meet Kopilai’s gaze. “Inatut does not know what he’s talking about,” he grumbled.

It had been a few days since they had first arrived at Pitchcliff. They had all been given assignments: some were made to help build weapons and traps, while others had to bring back a certain number of machine parts everyday to provide to the quartermaster that Ralert appointed. Kotallo knew the others weren’t happy, others still stubbornly thought they should’ve stayed at the Shattered Kiln, despite how close they had been to being captured by the soldiers of Sunfall. 

It was far from perfect, and he knew that the others felt they were being overworked, but at least they were far from any Carja stronghold. 

The sounds of multiple voices shouting reached them as he and Kopilai neared Pitchcliff. Kopilai’s werak and some Oseram were right at the base, their hands in the air as they cheered the two fighters inside the loose circle they had formed next to a campfire. Despite the distance, Kotallo could see that Aloy was one of them, her red hair bright even in the dark as she jumped in the air, the training spear above her head. 

The match was nearing its end when Kotallo pushed through the crowd, just as Aloy slid on the ground towards Inatut, her hair flying behind her, and used the momentum to turn a full circle, swinging her spear at him twice. Inatut fell to the ground, and Aloy quickly sprung up, pressing the point of her spear against his throat.

She was wearing a new armor he’d never seen before, the cropped dark leather vest a stark contrast to the pale skin of her stomach that shone with sweat as she stood over Inatut, her chin lifted triumphantly, her bare shoulders rising and falling in time with the little puffs of air that escaped her pink lips. 

Kopilai huffed. “I’m disappointed in you, Inatut,” she said loudly.

Aloy looked up at the sound of Kopilai’s voice, but quickly shifted her gaze to Kotallo. The radiant smile she shot his way floored him, and he found himself helplessly smiling back at her.

Kotallo’s gut clenched at Kopilai’s scoff. “Clear as ice,” she muttered, then louder she said, “You should spar with Aloy next. I’m certain I’m not the only one curious as to who would win.”

Inatut sprang up from the ground, grinning at Kotallo. “That’s an excellent idea, my chieftain,” he said, taking the satchel from Kotallo’s shoulder and walking off with Kopilai to the side to join the circle.

Dragging in a slow breath, resigned to his fate, Kotallo strode to the center of the circle and picked up the training spear Inatut left on the ground. Aloy took a few steps back, twirling her spear in between her fingers. “Best of three?” she asked as she circled around him with unhurried steps.

Kotallo stretched his back, standing to his full height, then hunched his shoulders and flexed his arm. “Timed rounds?” he asked.

Aloy hummed, appearing from behind him. “How about…first to knock the other off their feet?”

Arching his brow, Kotallo turned to face her, walking backwards and mimicking the way she twirled her spear. He kept his face blank despite the racing of his heart. It felt like adrenaline, except for the heat swirling in his gut. “You think you can put me on my back?”

She smirked at him. “Or on your knees.”

His mouth felt dry as he searched Aloy’s face, looking for any signs that she knew what she was saying. But all he found was the grin of a cocky warrior, and a gleam in her eye that told him she was certain she would win. “I welcome you to try,” Kotallo said, widening his stance, pointing his spear on the ground. “Come, Aloy. Show me what you’re capable of.”

Aloy charged without warning, sweeping her spear in a wide arc. Kotallo jumped backwards, propelling himself so that he tumbled in the air, landing with both feet on the ground, before pushing off, flinging himself forward, and thrusting his spear at her. 

With wide eyes, she dodged out of the way, turning her shoulder at the last second, leaving her back open. Kotallo stopped his momentum, his leg protesting against the strain, and looped his arm around Aloy’s neck, pulling her against him so that her back was flush to his front. Aloy swung her spear behind her, but Kotallo dodged, moving her along with him. 

“This doesn’t count,” Aloy rasped, her blunt nails digging into the skin of his arm. 

Kotallo caught a whiff of her sweet-smelling hair, and clenched his jaw. “I know,” he grumbled against her temple, before kicking the inside of her knees and letting her fall to the ground. He stepped back, smirking when she whipped her head around to glare at him. “That one did.”

She let out a mirthless chuckle as she stood. “I’m going to wipe that smile off your face.”

“If you say so,” he said with a huff, shrugging his shoulders and making a show of turning away from her to look through the crowd. Shards were being exchanged, and he idly wondered how many of them bet against him.

Aloy scoffed as she pushed her hair over her shoulder. “Should you really be looking away from me?”

“That depends,” he said, looking at her through the corner of his eye. “Are you going to give me something to look at?”

Pulling her shoulders back, Aloy rotated her neck, and shot him a wicked grin. “Watch me and find out,” she said, before rushing towards him.

Kotallo thrust his spear forward, but Aloy rolled towards him, dodging his spear. Then, in one quick motion, she turned to the right, tossing her spear to her left hand, and launched herself in the air, slashing at him as she did. Her spear hit him squarely in the chest and he fell on his ass.

Aloy landed on her feet beside him. “Looking at me now, aren’t you?” she said.

Hard not to, Kotallo thought, allowing her to step back before standing back up, his eyes falling to the way her redness extended all the way to her neck and chest. 

He swallowed. “Last round.”

“You sure you don’t want to just yield right now?” Aloy asked with a smirk.

Kotallo huffed, then charged at her, swinging his spear down, goading her into blocking his attack, but Aloy dodged out of the way instead, jumping back, before planting the point of her spear onto the ground. She jumped up, lifting herself off the ground by gripping her spear with both hands, and kicked his chest with both of her feet.

His back hit the ground, his eyes closing as he grunted at the impact. When he opened his eyes, it was to Aloy grinning down at him, the point of her spear tucked under his chin. “I win,” she said.

Kotallo leaned his head back against the ground and watched as she wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. He dragged in a breath, hoping it would calm the fluttering feeling in his chest, and managed a small smile. “It was a good fight.”

Aloy chuckled, removed her spear from his chin, and held out her hand to him. Kotallo hesitated, before taking her small hand in his, feeling his heart in his throat at the feel of her soft palm, and hoped Aloy hadn't somehow gained the ability to see through people's thoughts. He pushed himself up as much as he could without pulling on her hand, then let her go once he was on his feet, clenching his hand by his side.

Reaching up to rub the back of her neck, Aloy smiled up at him, her eyes narrowed playfully. “Hope that means you won’t underestimate me next time.”

“I’ve never underestimated you. I was merely…teasing,” Kotallo said, his heart hammering away at his chest as he realized he was standing far too close to her, so close that his clothes brushed against hers. He put his right foot behind him to put some distance and looked away from her, only to find Kopilai and Inatut smirking at him as they followed the other spectators up to Pitchcliff.

He turned back to Aloy. Her smile had gone and was replaced by a frown. “Are you…mad that you lost?”

Kotallo scoffed. “Of course not.”

“Okay,” she said, crossing her arms. “Why do you look so serious then?”

Willing himself to relax, Kotallo forced his shoulders to drop and offered her a small smile. “I’m just…preoccupied with my thoughts,” he said, deciding to tell her part of the truth. “Kopilai and her werak will be leaving soon.”

Aloy blinked at him, her lips parting as she hunched her shoulders. “Oh. Well, um, I can see why that would upset you.”

“I wouldn’t—,” Kotallo said, frowning down at her. “I wouldn’t say that I’m upset. Merely concerned about what it would mean for the rest of us.”

She raised her eyebrows and licked her lips, nodding her head multiple times, before turning her head to look at the settlement. “Right. Right, right, right,” she muttered, before walking away.

Following behind her, Kotallo’s eyes fell to the strange shoes Aloy was wearing that only stayed on her feet because of a thin band strapped to her ankles. He’d never seen her ankles before as she almost always wore boots. His eyes moved up, distracted by the way the thick strips of leather that hung from her belt swayed in time with the movement of her hips as she walked.

Kotallo’s eyes widened and he forced them up to look at the back of her head when he realized he’d been staring. He cleared his throat as he reached up to sweep a hand over his hair. “Do you have the map of the Sundom?”

“Nope.”

“Is it with Varl, then?”

“Maybe. I don’t know,” Aloy said with a shrug, her arms still crossed, not even turning her head to look at him. “You’ll have to ask him.”

Kotallo hummed, finding the conversation strangely stilted. He cleared his throat again. “I have never seen you in this armor before,” he said, moving to take the space she’d left open on her left, to walk beside her instead of behind her.

“It’s new,” Aloy said, letting her hands fall to her side. “Got it from Erend.”

He nodded, biting the inside of his cheek, his heart quailing at the reminder that he had nothing to his name, not even shards. He would have to hunt more machines if he were to travel with Aloy, wherever she went. He couldn’t stand the thought of being a burden to her, when he’d promised her that he’d help her. 

Kotallo looked away from Aloy as they passed the wooden archway, the urge to laugh at himself welling inside him. It seemed like a long time ago when he had offered to help her kill the man who had murdered her father, but the truth was that she didn’t need his help. It was truly laughable for him to even think that he could contribute to her success when all this time, it had been she who had been helping him, because he was the one that truly needed helping.

Aloy suddenly stopped walking and closed her hand around his wrist, derailing Kotallo’s thoughts. “What—”

She jerked her head to the left, towards the small open emporium that belonged to Pitchcliff’s appointed quartermaster. Kopilai and Inatut were there, and so were Vashad and Omas. The two Carja seemed to be arguing with the quartermaster, Foran, a bald, middle-aged man who liked to wear flowy garments and gold ornaments on his arms. 

Kopilai and Inatut were already walking away from the three as Kotallo and Aloy approached. Kopilai shot him a knowing look, making Kotallo frown. He took note of the multiple traps just behind Vashad and Omas. Their voices were growing louder as they approached, and Kotallo could finally hear what they were talking about.

"That's not what you said yesterday!"

"You told us twenty-four!"

"You Carja-scum really like to blame others for your shortcomings, don’t you?"

They quieted at his approach, Foran’s lips disappearing into a firm line as Kotallo stepped closer. Kotallo turned to address Vashad and Omas. “What’s the matter?”

“We’re delivering our quota, but he—,” Omas said, pointing at Foran, “—said we misheard him.”

Foran barked a laugh. “You did! I said thirty-four, not twenty-four.”

“How were we even supposed to make thirty-four traps, when we didn’t even get the rest of the blaze until late last night?” Vashad yelled.

“And thirty-four traps between the two of us? How do you expect us to—”

Foran raised his hand to stop Omas mid-sentence. “I fail to see how that’s my problem.”

Scowling at Foran, Aloy stepped past Kotallo, her fists clenched at her side, looking ready to draw a weapon. “I’ll make it your pr—”

Kotallo placed his hand on her shoulder, cutting her off, and gently pulled her behind him, switching places with her so that Kotallo was the one in front of Foran. He lifted his chin and hardened his tone. “There was obviously a miscommunication. Accept these traps now and we can negotiate the quota with Ralert starting today.”

Foran took a step back and wiped his hands over the long vest he wore. “Fine. But I said thirty-four yesterday, and I won’t take the blame for any of this!”

Vashad rubbed his face with both of his hands in frustration, but said nothing at the pointed look he received from Kotallo. Kotallo led them away, staying silent as he listened to the two Carjas’ hissed complaints. 

“—and it’s not just him, Kotallo, there’s—”

“—I don’t know how much more of this treatment I can take! The way they look at—”

“—the cook wouldn’t even give us a second helping of stew yesterday, but he—”

“I understand your concerns,” Kotallo said, interrupting the two of them into silence. “I will speak to Ralert today and negotiate a fixed quota for you, first. Everything else, I will have to consult with Varl and Aloy here," he said, glancing at her and realizing that he still had his hand on her shoulder, though she didn’t seem to mind. Clearing his throat, he retrieved his hand and turned back to Vashad and Omas. “We’ll find a way to make this better. For now, go and have breakfast. I’ll speak to you two again later.”

Kotallo sighed as he watched the two walk away, frustration welling up inside him, regretting that he didn’t have anything better to tell them. He turned to the side to look at Aloy to tell her to reign in her temper, but raised his eyebrows when he found her already glaring up at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I wanted to punch him in the face.”

Kotallo lifted an eyebrow and smirked at her. “I know.”

“You should’ve let me.”

He couldn’t help but smile at the picture she made: her arms crossed, her forehead creased, and the little pout on her lips. He shouldn’t have found it so endearing. “I will not stop you from punching the next person that draws your ire.”

Aloy’s eyebrows leapt. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Any person that makes me angry? Really?”

Kotallo nodded. “I will even hold them down for you,” he said, his heart swelling with pride when she laughed. But there was also a dull, persistent ache that accompanied it. He pursed his lips to stop himself from smiling further. “Do you really not know where the map is?”

“No, I was just…” she trailed off with a shrug. “I know Varl has it. Why do you need it?”

“I would like us to have a plan in case we have to leave Pitchcliff in a hurry.”

Aloy clicked her tongue, frowning worriedly at the ground. She looked back up at him after a moment. “Do you think they’ll kick us out?”

Kotallo shrugged. “Even if they didn’t, it wouldn’t be fair for the Carja to stay here where they are mistreated.” He huffed then, and shook his head.

“What?”

He shook his head again, a wry smile forming on his lips. “If someone had told me three months ago that I would find myself here in the east, defending the Carja, I would’ve laughed and challenged that person to a duel to the death.”

“You’re not defending all Carja, just the innocent ones,” Aloy said softly as she looked up at him, her eyes searching his face as if she were trying to see through him.  “Were you really so different back then?”

Turning his head to stare at the pinkening sky, Kotallo thought of the man that he had been back in the Clan Lands, back when he was still whole. “I was…proud.” He huffed, managing a small smile at a memory. “The other marshals would have said that I was a cocky soldier.”

“Sounds like I would’ve thought the same had I met the old you,” she said with a smirk.

Kotallo forced a smile, remembering how she stood over him earlier, how glorious she looked. “I was strong, then. You might have been impressed with me.”

Aloy wilted, crossing her arms as she frowned up at him. “You’re still strong, Kotallo,” she said in a firm voice.

He hummed, looking away as he glanced up at the overlook where Ralert usually paced or drank the day away. “It is still early, Ralert will not be ready to see me until much later.”

She pressed her lips in a firm line, staring at his face before she shrugged and uncrossed her arms. “We could get breakfast while we wait,” Aloy said. She jerked her head further inside the settlement, towards the stairs that led to the open dining area. “I’m pretty hungry.”

Scratching his left cheek, Kotallo nodded and wordlessly followed Aloy. The dining area was situated atop one of the circular buildings, with a stone staircase hugging the structure, and only a thin metal chain serving as the handrail. It was so narrow that Kotallo had to lag behind Aloy to let a couple of Oseram through, putting Aloy’s bare lower back directly in his line of sight. He rubbed his mouth and looked away as they climbed up, training his eyes on the small waterfall to the side where the settlement obtained their water.

When they reached the top, they were surprised to find Erend at the farthest table, already nursing a stein of ale, his lips downturned and a line in between his brows. Varl and Zo were at the same table, sitting on the opposite side, casting furtive glances at one another as they ate, but Varl spotted them from afar as they reached the top step, and waved them over.

“Isn’t it a bit too early for ale?” Aloy asked, swinging her leg over the bench and sitting beside Erend. She nudged him gently with her elbow and Erend shot her a lopsided smile, looping his right arm over her shoulder.

Kotallo looked away from them and wordlessly walked to the cook's corner to get food, pleased to see that it was Guhil's turn at the stove today. The young Carja cook smiled as Kotallo approached, already preparing a plate of food and placing it on a tray.

"For Aloy as well, please," Kotallo said, sliding the tray to the edge of the table and pressing the side of the tray against his hip. He looked down at the chunks of boar meat sprinkled with herbs and covered with a dark sauce that smelled sweet and slightly tangy. "What have you prepared for us today?"

Placing another plate of food on the tray, Guhil wiped sweat off his forehead and adjusted his hat so a bit of his dark hair peeked through. "The Oseram call it bitterbrew boar," he said, then leaned in, wrinkling his nose and lowering his voice. "Most of their dishes have ale in them, but this one's not so bad."

Kotallo smiled. "I've enjoyed everything you’ve prepared for us, Guhil. I'm certain that I will enjoy this as well," he said and nodded his thanks. 

Walking back to the table with the tray, Kotallo noticed that Erend's arm was no longer hanging off of Aloy's shoulder, instead he was waving his hands in the air, gesticulating wildly as he tended to do when he was telling a story. Kotallo slid the tray on the table and moved one of the plates closer to Aloy. “Breakfast,” he muttered.

Aloy smiled up at him. “Thanks. I got distracted by Erend’s story.”

Kotallo gave her a brief nod as he sat next to Zo on the bench, right across from Aloy, and nodded his chin at Erend. “Apologies, please continue,” he said as he popped a piece of boar into his mouth. His eyes moved immediately back to his plate, marveling at how soft and moist the meat was.

“This is really good,” Aloy said.

He looked up at her as he chewed, his chest tightening at the sight of her flushed cheeks as she looked back at him with a content expression on her face. He shunted his food to one side of his mouth. “Better than the trail mix you love so much?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes as she swallowed. “Don’t talk when your mouth is full.”

“Hey, are you guys gonna listen or not?” Erend said, tapping a finger on the table. “Now, where was I?”

“Ersa was thrown into the Sun-Ring,” Varl said, before stealing a potato wedge from Zo’s plate. Zo merely smiled at him and patted him on the cheek.

“Right, right. So it’s Ersa’s turn, and the Carja thought she’d go down if they threw a big machine at her. But she defeated all of ‘em. Even got some of Jiran’s Kestrels for good measure!” Erend lifted his stein to his lips and took a big gulp, then exhaled loudly as he put the stein back on the table. “The Mad Sun-King was impressed, I guess. Thought it’d be funny to have her run around his palace as a servant.”

Kotallo scowled. “Your sister survived in the Sun-Ring only to be made a slave?”

Erend nodded, kissing his teeth. “He enjoyed humiliating her that way,” he said, then leaned in closer. “I’m gonna tell you how she escaped, but you can’t breathe a word of it to anyone,” he said in a low voice, gesturing to all of them to lean in as well.

Kotallo placed his hand flat on the table and leaned in, glancing at Aloy just as she gathered her fiery hair over her left shoulder to keep it from getting into the food, giving Kotallo a view of her creamy neck. He hastily removed his gaze and turned his attention back to Erend. “How did she escape?” he asked.

Erend raised his eyebrows and looked at them one-by-one. “With Avad’s help, that’s how.”

“The Sun King’s second son?” Zo asked, her eyes wide.

“Is he part of the…?” Aloy trailed off, pointing a finger at Erend. 

Erend arched his brow at her. “Well, if you wanted to know, you should’ve joined us.”

Kotallo frowned and turned to Aloy. “You’re not part of the rebellion?” 

She shook her head. “I never said I was,” she said.

“But—”

Erend tapped his finger again on the table. “Don’t you guys wanna know how Ersa escaped?”

Truthfully, Kotallo was now more interested to know how Aloy managed to find herself connected to the rebellion without being a part of it. But he nodded to Erend and lifted his fingers off the table to gesture for him to continue.

“Avad knew their best chance was to get Ersa to blend in. So he got her everything she needed to disguise herself as a Carja noblewoman: perfumes, veils and all.”

Varl snickered. “I get the feeling she wasn’t too happy with that.”

“Oh, Ersa would’ve rather fought her way out of that palace with her bare hands than put on all that Carja eye paint. But Avad insisted it was the only way. So she agreed, under one condition… Avad had to dress up as well.”

Zo’s eyes widened further. “She made the prince dress up like a noblewoman?”

Erend grinned. “As perfumed and powdered as a babe! It worked like a charm too. Not only did they make it out of the palace, they paid a traveling merchant to get Ersa to the border and none were the wiser.”

“Okay, but is he part of the…?” Aloy asked again.

Clicking his tongue, Erend put his arm on the table and frowned at her, obviously disappointed that she hadn’t been more interested in his story. “C’mon Aloy, you know I can’t tell you anything. Gotta join us first.”

Aloy sighed as she straightened and went back to her plate. “I already told you no.”

Erend pulled a face, before turning to Kotallo and waggled his eyebrows at him. “How ‘bout you, buddy? We could use a guy like you.”

“I don’t see how I could be of assistance to your cause,” Kotallo said, straightening as well.

Blinking at Kotallo, Erend leaned forward towards Varl. “Is he serious?”

Varl grimaced. “Yeah, ‘fraid so.”

Glowering at them, Kotallo helped himself to some fried bitter leaf, chanced a glance upon Aloy and found that her eyes were narrowed at him. He raised his eyebrows at her in askance, but she merely pursed her lips and looked away from him.

“Didn’t you say he came up with the strategy that helped you win at that watchtower?”

“He did,” Zo said, nodding at Erend. “All on his own.”

“And really quickly, too,” Varl added.

Kotallo growled low in his throat. “That’s not what—,” he stopped short: Aloy was glaring at him again.

“Uh-oh,” Erend suddenly said, his head perking up as he looked past them. He clicked his tongue. “What’s he up to this time?”

Kotallo turned and saw Foran storm up from behind the circular structure in the middle of the dining area, a tray in his hand. Kotallo stood up from the bench, his food forgotten, and started walking towards Guhil. 

The quartermaster reached him first, slamming the tray down on the table in front of him, splattering food everywhere. “You call this bitterbrew boar, Carja?”

Guhil’s shoulders rose, his hands gesturing to the plate with erratic movements. “I—”

“You butchered it, you good-for-nothing—”

Kotallo grabbed Foran’s shoulder and forced him to turn around. “That’s enough!” he hissed. Behind him, he heard the sound of multiple benches scraping across the floor. He turned his head and found nearly everyone standing, Oseram and Carja alike, just staring at each other, as if waiting for someone to make the next move.

“Sit down, all of you! Forgefire take me, it’s too early for this!” Erend bellowed as he walked up to Kotallo and Foran. Kotallo took a step away from the quartermaster as Erend neared, keeping his hand visible. 

Erend pointed a finger at Foran. “You, eat your food or don’t,” he said.

Foran sneered at him. “Does Ersa know her brother’s a Carja-lover? She’d be disappointed.”

Erend made a face, narrowing his eyes and stretching the corner of his lips downwards in an exaggerated manner. He wiggled his head from side-to-side as he spoke. “Does Ersa know her brother’s—,” he smacked Foran on the back of his head. “Shut up, you lugnut, if you know what’s good for you.” 

Foran stumbled as Erend pushed him, holding onto the balustrade to keep from falling. Erend stepped forward towards him and made a show of clenching his fists until Foran scowled at him, straightening his vest and turning to walk away. His face red, he kept his eyes on Erend as he walked back down the steps.

Erend turned to the rest of the people in the dining area, glowering at them until they all sat back down, turning their attention back to their food. 

Stepping closer to Erend, Kotallo cleared his throat and put his hand on his hip. “I believe we could have handled that better,” he muttered. 

“You mean I could’ve handled that better,” he said, before sighing and rubbing a gloved hand over his beard. “Foran’s always had a mean mouth. Gets him in trouble a lot, even with people from his own clan. That and his penchant for borrowing shards and never paying it back.” Erend clicked his tongue. “Shouldn’t have let him get to me.”

Kotallo hummed, deciding not to push the matter further since Erend was already doing a good job of reprimanding himself. He looked back at Guhil and saw that he was shaken, just frowning at the mess Foran left behind, looking like he was about to cry. “I will need to speak to Ralert later regarding the quota that Foran sets. It seems like it increases by the number everyday. I was hoping for your assistance,” he said to Erend.

“Sure thing, buddy. We should go there now, before Ralert starts drinking.”

“You have my thanks.” Kotallo nodded his head towards the cook. “I just need a moment to tend to him first.”

The ravager fell dead, its metal body releasing bright blue sparks. Stepping out from behind the boulder, Kotallo stowed his javelin, feeling a touch of dismay as he walked towards a heaving Kopilai. But she grinned at him as he approached, and he couldn’t help but return it. 

“You did it,” he said.

Kopilai nodded and knelt beside the ravager, extracting the power cell, but quickly throwing it behind her shoulder after seeing that it had been damaged. “We’ll be ready to leave tonight.”

“So soon,” Kotallo muttered, his thoughts already lost in the preparations they’ve set up in the past few days since Kopilai had first told him of her plans. It wouldn’t be enough to leave Pitchcliff, and besides, they haven’t decided where else they could go.

“We’ve been preparing for this day.” Kopilai stood and tilted her head at him, her eyebrows raised. “The offer still stands.”

Kotallo smiled. “My answer remains the same.” Kopilai shrugged and left it at that. 

Ralert had been agreeable when Kotallo had negotiated a fixed quota for all of the weapons, traps, and other supplies their group had been tasked with. It certainly helped that Erend had been present for that meeting, keeping his arm around Ralert’s shoulders all throughout. 

There hadn’t been an incident since, and Kotallo hoped that it would remain peaceful at Pitchcliff. But with his luck, he was almost certain that he would have to intervene in one way or the other at some point. And with Kopilai’s werak finally leaving, he’d have less help. 

But there was nothing to be done, and he would not ask Kopilai to stay. Kotallo would be the last person to ever ask anyone to stay away from their homeland for far longer than necessary. 

He nudged the power cell on the ground with his foot, and jerked his head towards the ravager. “Was the freeze canister damaged?”

Kopilai nodded. “I had honestly forgotten that we needed to take those back with us.”

Kotallo hummed, turning his head to look past the rock over to another bridge that led to the side. “There are two more ravagers over there,” he mused, arching his brow at her. “Or are you done for the day?”

Taking her spear from the ground, Kopilai stood, smirking at Kotallo. “Don’t insult me.”

It took longer for them to take down two ravagers, spending most of their time dodging their claw attacks and the projectiles from their cannons. Kotallo dislodged their cannons but refrained from using them to fire back at the ravagers, not wanting to risk accidentally damaging their power cells or freeze canisters. He and Kopilai took their time with their spears, stabbing and slashing at their hard metal casings until one fell, then the other.

“That would’ve gone faster if we used the traps. What was the point of bringing them if we weren’t going to use them?” Kopilai grumbled as they made their way back to Pitchcliff. The sky was clear, and the sun had driven away the morning mist. 

“Traps would have damaged the components we needed,” Kotallo said. He furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head as they climbed up the winding path to the archway. “Do you hear that?”

Kopilai frowned, tilting her head as well. “I don’t hear anything.”

He couldn’t hear anything, either. There was no clanging of hammers against anvils, or the creaking of wood and splash of water from the mills, or even the loud grumbling of Oseram workers. He jogged the rest of the way, dread filling his chest as Kopilai followed close behind him.

From the archway, Kotallo could see that a crowd had formed above, straining their necks and standing on their toes as they tried to look past the Oseram guards blocking the way to Foran’s emporium. He nodded to Kopilai before jogging in their direction, pushing his way through them. The guards let him pass and he saw that Aloy, Varl, Erend, and Ralert were already there. 

“No, no! I told you, I told you!” Ralert yelled, pushing a finger against Erend’s puffed up chest. “One toe out of line—”

Varl put his hand on the mayor’s shoulder. “We don’t even know who did this, yet,” he said, his tone gentle. 

Ralert shook off Varl’s hand. “I don’t care!”

Kotallo walked past them, and groaned at the sight of Foran’s body laying in the pool of his own blood, recognizable only because of his clothes, his features mashed together, the center of his face caved inwards. Aloy looked up at him with a pinched expression from where she was crouched beside the body. 

“What do you see?” he asked. 

She pointed at a spot beside Foran’s head. “Blood trail. I don’t know where it leads yet. I can find out who did this, I just need time."

Kotallo sighed, turning his head to watch Varl try to pacify Ralert. “I don’t know that it would matter. Ralert seems intent on pinning the blame on the Carja.” 

“That’s not fair,” Aloy grumbled.

Sighing again, Kotallo shrugged at Aloy, then walked towards Ralert whose eyes widened as he approached. “No, I’ve made up my mind,” he said. “One toe out of line, I said!”

“We can find the murderer,” Kotallo said. “We just need time. If it is indeed one of the Carja, then we will go without a fuss. But if—”

“Do you think it’s been easy with you lot here? All I hear nowadays is how I’ve turned Carja-lover like this one,” Ralert said, waving a hand at Erend. 

Erend scowled at him, but Kotallo straightened to his full height and stepped closer to Ralert, cutting off whatever Erend had been about to say. “Give us time,” he said in a clipped tone. “We’ll hand the murderer over to you.”

“No, no, no, no. Nothing you say or give me will change my mind.”

Aloy stood up from where she was crouched and walked over to them. “Not even a thunderjaw heart?”

Kotallo’s eyes widened and he grabbed Aloy’s wrist, but she wouldn’t be deterred. Glaring at Kotallo, she snatched her wrist back, before turning back to Ralert. “When we first arrived, you asked us if we had a thunderjaw heart,” she continued. “Still need one?”

Ralert scoffed. “You’re telling me you can get me a thunderjaw heart?”

Aloy shrugged. “But if I get you one, you’re going to have to let us stay.”

Twirling the ends of his mustache, Ralert narrowed his eyes at Aloy for a long moment, before nodding. “I’ll give you a day.”

Kotallo stepped in his space. “You’ll give us three.”

“Fine,” Ralert said, with a click of his tongue. “Three days!”

“Hang on, what do you need a thunderjaw heart for, anyway?” Erend asked.

Ralert's eyebrows shot up, before he barked out a laugh. “Maybe you should ask Ersa,” he said, then turned back to Kotallo and Aloy. “If you’re not back in three days, I’ll throw everyone out!” Ralert turned around and stomped away, pushing roughly through the crowd, bumping into Kopilai’s shoulder as she walked towards them. 

Kopilai peeked at the body and frowned. “I suppose he won’t be needing these anymore,” she said, dropping the satchels on the ground. 

Kotallo turned to Varl. “I need you to try and find out who killed Foran. If the murderer is one of ours, they have to be dealt with, even if we’re successful with the thunderjaw heart.”

“You’re going to get a thunderjaw heart?” Kopilai asked, her eyebrows raised at Kotallo.

“I am,” Aloy said. “Ralert gave me three days.”

“Gave us three days,” Kotallo corrected her, before turning to Erend. He was staring at the ground with a pinched expression. “I know that you have your own duties, friend, but if you could—”

“I’ll keep an eye out for your folks, buddy, no need to ask me,” Erend interjected, his forehead creased, patting Kotallo’s shoulder.

He nodded his thanks, then turned to Kopilai. “Give my regards to Inatut.”

Kopilai crossed her arms. “Three days?" she asked, looking away with her lips pressed together. After a moment, she shrugged and looked back at Kotallo. "We can wait.”

Kotallo sighed. It would be a great help if they did, extra eyes to keep watch over the civilians, but he couldn’t ask Kopilai to stay when he knew she and her werak were eager to head home. “You don’t have t—”

“We can wait,” Kopilai said again in a harder tone, then jerked her head over to Aloy. “Just go, Kotallo. We’ll be here when you return.”

Kotallo nodded his thanks, picked up the satchels Kopilai dropped on the ground, then tapped Varl and Erend on their shoulders. He walked past them, jerking his head at Aloy for her to follow. He blew out a breath, shaking his head as they walked through the archway. How likely was it that they would be able to defeat a thunderjaw with just the two of them? They were lucky when it was just the behemoth, they even had Varga’s prototype with them, then. Perhaps they should sneak back in, use the three days to plan instead of—

“I’ve taken down a thunderjaw before, you know.”

He glanced at Aloy and found that she was smiling smugly at him, her nose wrinkling in amusement. He found himself smiling back, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of their current predicament. “Of course you have. You’re the only person mad enough to even attempt it.”

Aloy scoffed. “Well, you didn’t have to come with me. So, if I’m mad, what does that make you?”

Kotallo stared at her for a moment, thinking of what to say, but found his mind blanking. He reached up and rubbed his mouth, shifting his gaze to look towards the horizon, instead. Now that he knew that Aloy had already defeated a thunderjaw on her own before, he was feeling much more confident that they could bring back a thunderjaw heart to appease Ralert. But now, a new worry emerged in his mind.

He’d been avoiding thinking about the night they first arrived, where Aloy had invited him to feel how soft her armor was. It was as if that moment had opened up something inside him, something that even Oseram ale hadn’t been able to make him forget. Suddenly he was seeing her everywhere, or catching himself scanning his surroundings for a flash of her red hair, or tripping over himself at the sound of her voice.

And now with Pitchcliff behind them, and no one else to distract him or tasks to preoccupy him, Kotallo would have no choice but to face the truth. 

He glanced at Aloy again just as she tapped her trinket. She walked ahead of him and crossed the first of the two wooden bridges separated by a large rock formation right at the river. “Tramplers up ahead,” she said. When she turned back and saw that he hadn’t moved, she frowned. “Aren’t you coming?”

Kotallo took a deep breath, a fluttering feeling rising up in his chest as he looked at Aloy, tracing her delicate features with his eyes. He expelled all the air in one go, but the fluttering remained. “I am,” he said as he crossed the bridge and followed her across the river.

Chapter Text

The ground shook underneath their feet as they settled into a crouch and slowly moved to hide in the tall grass next to the road. There were four tramplers, just as Aloy said, walking slowly with their heavy feet and using their horns to dig in the ground in the small field past the large rock formation that split the road into two paths. Looking further down the road, Kotallo saw that there was another fork, one leading east and the other leading west, following the river. There were other bunches of tall grass they could hide in by the road, but no other machines.

“I say we make a run for it,” Aloy whispered.

Clicking his tongue, Kotallo narrowed his eyes at her and shook his head. “We don’t know what other machines could be waiting past that bend. Be patient.”

Aloy rolled her eyes at him, releasing a heavy sigh. “Fine.”

Looking back at the tramplers, Kotallo waited for the moment all four heads were close to the ground before moving to the next tall grass, knowing that Aloy would follow behind him. They were past the tramplers now, but the next tall grass was across the road. Kotallo raised his hand in front of Aloy, waiting to see if other machines would appear, and when none did, he crossed the road.

His eyes widened: there were two snapmaws basking in the sun on the riverbank, but what caused him to hold his breath was a longleg and a behemoth traveling together, coming up from the road leading west. 

Aloy gasped softly beside him. “Machine convoy.”

“From Cauldron…” he trailed off, trying to remember the name of the cauldron near the Unflinching Watch. “From Cauldron Zeta?”

Pursing her lips, Aloy swiped at the air, then shook her head. “Different cauldron.”

The machine convoy turned and traveled down the east road. Kotallo frowned and turned back to Aloy. “You do know where to find a thunderjaw, then?”

She nodded and pointed to her trinket. “I have a map. Looks like not all machines are indicated on it, though.”

Kotallo hummed. “And which way are we going?”

Aloy winced and pointed to the machine convoy. “That way.”

Releasing a heavy sigh, Kotallo looked up at the sky and wiped the sweat trailing down his right cheek. The sun was right above them. Time was moving too fast, and they were moving too slow for his liking. “Let’s wait for them to head further down,” he said, settling down on one knee.

They moved to the next tall grass when the machine convoy was far enough and the two snapmaws were in the river, only to stop again at the sight of two scrappers. “We can take them. At this rate, it’ll take us the entire three days just to get to the thunderjaw,” Aloy hissed at him, nudging him with her elbow. 

Kotallo saw something move above them from his periphery and looked up to see two glinthawks circling the mesa that cast a large shadow on the road they were on. “We don’t know how many machines we’ll come across on the way there. It would be unwise to waste what resources we have,” he hissed back. “Be. Patient.”

She scowled at him, then jerked her head towards the left side of the road past a dead tree where sagebrush grew aplenty. “Let’s go that way,” she said, before moving past him.

Eyeing the glinthawks, Kotallo followed her. He was starting to feel the strain in his knees and thighs, but he saw no other way—it was not as if they could run the whole way to where a thunderjaw was. What little trees that were scattered in the area provided some cover and Kotallo took the opportunity to pocket the ochreblooms they came across. They would need all the medicinal plants they could gather before facing off with a thunderjaw.

“Shit,” Aloy hissed. Kotallo looked up and gasped as a scrapper started running towards them from afar. They were still too close to the road!

Kotallo pushed Aloy into the closest tall grass just as the scrapper stopped right beside it. He held his breath, his eyes darting to the ground to look for a big enough rock to chuck in the opposite direction, when he felt Aloy stir beside him. She already had her spear in her hands when he turned to her. 

“Aloy, don’t—”

But his warning came too late: Aloy thrust her spear into the scrapper and twisted it into its metal body. It fell on its side, letting out a loud mechanical whirr. She wrenched her spear from it, then yelped as Kotallo pulled her roughly by the shoulder, causing her to fall to the ground on her back. Not more than a second later, the familiar sounds of wings flapping in the air were above them, making the grass sway back and forth. 

Heart pounding, Kotallo kept an eye on the glinthawk hovering above them, and heard a sawing sound behind him where the scrapper had fallen dead, scavenging what parts it could. Two glinthawks, he thought to himself, when he suddenly felt fingers curl around the back of his neck and pull him closer to the ground. With wide eyes, he turned to Aloy, and realized that the right side of his body was practically covering her: his leg was in between hers and his hand was above her left shoulder, his fingers splayed on the ground next to her.

“Your head’s sticking out,” she whispered as she pressed her fingers into his skin. 

Taking a deep breath, Kotallo let her pull him closer until his chin was touching her right shoulder, her hair brushing the shell of his ear. He could feel the bare skin of her stomach touching his elbow, and her leather vest grazed his shoulder with every breath she took. “Apologies,” he murmured.

“It’s my fault. I didn’t see them,” Aloy said. Her husky voice so close to his ear made him shudder. “You okay? How—How long can you stay like that? In that position?”

If he still had both of his arms, Kotallo could stay above her for hours. Clenching his jaw, he looked at the bottom of his stump pressed against the rocky ground. “Not long,” he admitted, shame curling in his gut. 

He felt Aloy press her fingers again on his nape. “Don’t strain yourself. You can, um—just come here.”

Heart pounding for an entirely different reason, Kotallo slowly lowered himself further, angling his hips away as he pressed his body against hers, the tension in his stump fading when he removed the pressure from holding himself up with it. She started to tremble beneath him and he moved his head slightly, nudging her shoulder softly with his chin. “Sshh,” he whispered. “They’ll be gone soon.”

Aloy gulped audibly and moved her hand up to stroke the back of his head. “I’m not scared,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

Kotallo snapped his eyes shut and tried to focus on the squawking sounds the glinthawks made, instead of the warmth emanating from Aloy’s skin, the fragrance of her hair, the way her body felt underneath him, and the guilt clamping down on his chest for finding pleasure in their predicament. 

He nudged her shoulder again with his chin. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Aloy took a deep breath. “Don’t be,” she whispered back as she continued to stroke his head.

After what seemed like hours, Kotallo heard the glinthawks leave, worried for a moment that their combined flapping wings would flatten the grass enough that it would give his and Aloy’s position away. When they weren’t shot with icy projectiles, Kotallo turned his head to look at Aloy, only to find her already staring at him. 

They were so close that Kotallo could see a bit of hazel in her bright green eyes. He licked his lips and her eyes darted to his mouth for an instant before going back up. “Are you alright?” he murmured. 

“Yeah,” Aloy said softly. Kotallo nodded, then drew his knees up to lift himself off of her and into a crouch, then turned his body away from her. She sat up and reached out to touch his shoulder. “You okay?”

Glancing down at the embarrassing tent in his pants, Kotallo grunted and gave her another nod. “I just need a moment,” he said, then cleared his throat and started to recite the Visions in his head. The Ten own the mountain. Outlasted any climb. They claimed the desert, seized it as their own. Their enemies feared their rage as they ripped through enemy li—

“Is it your stump? Is it hurting?”

He shook his head, then thought that perhaps he should’ve just said yes. “Just…catching my breath. I just need a moment, then we can proceed.” 

“Okay.”

Kotallo looked up and wilted at seeing oranges and pinks chasing away the blue from the sky. The sight effectively doused whatever arousal he was feeling. They were losing daylight. Sighing heavily, he jerked his head towards the tall grass nearest them. “Come,” he said to Aloy. “Let’s not waste any more time.”

They moved into a crouch onto the next tall grass, and then the next, and continued on until they were past the field where the lone scrapper patrolled. Up ahead, there were four more tramplers as well as a much smaller machine that looked like a burrower with its disproportionately large head and single eye, except that this one only had two legs instead of four. “How long until we reach our quarry?”

“At the pace we’re going?” Aloy said, her fingers in the air. “I’d say we’ll get there by midnight.”

Clenching his hand into a fist, Kotallo released a heavy sigh and started lightly tapping his forehead against his knuckles. He straightened and scanned the area. “I would not want to face a thunderjaw in the dark. Let’s find a place to recoup our strength.”

Aloy sighed as well, looking to the ground with furrowed eyebrows, her frustration evident on her face. She likely would’ve just stormed off single-mindedly if she were alone, but Kotallo would not allow her to take risks that would endanger her or them. It was bad enough that they were hunting one of the biggest machines he’d ever come across in his life. After a moment, she jerked her head over to their left. “We can rest over there.”

Over there was another small field of sagebrush and a large rock formation that might have been a butte years ago, but time and erosion had cast a great hole right in the middle so that it now formed a large arch right next to a cliff. Kotallo followed her to it, standing when they were far enough away from the machines. He slumped against the rock, sliding down until he was sitting on the ground, only to stiffen when he heard the familiar footfalls of a ravager from over the other side of the small slope of rock. 

“It’s okay,” Aloy said. “It’s not going to see us from here.”

Far from being reassured, Kotallo stood slowly, listening for any signs that the ravager was coming to them, and only relaxing when the footfalls went further away. “How do you know it won’t make its way over to where we are?”

Aloy sat on the ground and leaned against the other side of the arch. “Machines have this…” she trailed off, waving a hand in the air as she thought. “It’s like they have these instructions to only patrol a certain area. Yeah, they’ll chase after you if they spot you, but only for a while and then they go back to where they were.”

Kotallo’s eyebrows leapt as he slowly sat back down. He narrowed his eyes in thought. “I do not recall ever seeing machines exhibit that kind of behavior before.”

“I get the feeling that the Tenakth don’t run away from machines.”

“You are right. We don’t.”

She snorted and bent her knees to sit cross-legged on the ground. “Well, that’s why you haven’t seen it.”

Kotallo hummed, studying her as he did, wondering how she had come to be so knowledgeable about machine behavior and how to use their weapons against them. He gestured to his temple. “Did you come to know this because of your trinket?”

Her forehead creased. “The Old Ones call it a Focus. But, no, I learned that one from Rost.”

“I see,” Kotallo said, nodding as he turned his head to survey the area down below the cliff. It was already too dark to make anything out, except for the blue lights glowing in the distance from some unknown machines. He looked back at her from the corner of his eye and saw that she was looking at the ground, holding one of her braids and brushing the ends of it on her cheek. 

He continued to stare at her surreptitiously, surrendering himself to the fluttering feeling in his chest for a moment before clearing his throat to get her attention. “You should sleep,” he said. “I’ll take first watch.”

“You don’t need to. My Focus will alert me if anything approaches.”

The ravager’s footfalls were growing louder again as it neared. Though Kotallo trusted Aloy, he couldn’t stop from feeling worried about their proximity to the machine. She must’ve sensed his apprehension or saw it clearly on his face because she chuckled and grinned at him. “Fine, take first watch. Wake me up when it’s my turn,” she said and started rummaging in her satchel. As she did, she started to frown.

“What is it?”

Aloy sighed and started massaging her temples with her fingers. “I forgot the tent. It’s in my other satchel.”

Kotallo shrugged. “It is too warm for a tent. Just use your bedroll.”

“Yeah, forgot that one, too,” she said, before laying on her side with her head on top of her curled arm, frowning still as she closed her eyes.

He shook his head in amusement as he looked at her, then rummaged into his own satchel and brought out his bedroll. He stood up and walked over to her, casting a shadow on her form that made her open her eyes. “Here, use mine,” he said with a smirk. “You have already taken my tent, you might as well take this one, too. But I expect this one to be returned to me, at least.”

Aloy sat up with a chuckle as she took the bedroll from his hand. “It’s not like you even use the tent,” she said. She stood up and set the bedroll on the ground as Kotallo walked back and sat in his previous spot. “Why don’t you, by the way?”

He should’ve felt more hesitant in revealing a weakness to another, but this was Aloy and she’d already witnessed so many of his other weaknesses that revealing this one felt like nothing at all. “I don’t like it.”

She paused to look at him, before finally laying down on her side again, not bothering with the blanket. “You don’t like the tent?” she asked as she finally lay her head on the bedroll. She took a deep breath, then stiffened as her eyes widened.

Kotallo tilted his head curiously. “What is it?”

Aloy blinked at him, then took another deep breath. “Um, nothing,” she said. “So you, uh, you don’t like the tent?”

He watched as she nuzzled her cheek on his bedroll, warmth flooding his belly. He cleared his throat. “No, it is too small.”

She smiled. “It’s not the tent’s fault. You’re just too big.”

Rubbing his mouth, Kotallo looked away from her, chastising himself for the direction his thoughts were heading. “Being in the tent makes it hard to breathe.”

“Oh,” Aloy said, her smile fading. “Sorry, I didn’t know it was that bad. Do the Tenakth have bigger tents?”

He shook his head. “We don’t use tents.”

“So you weren’t lying when you said the Tenakth sleep out in the open?”

“I’m surprised you remembered that,” Kotallo said, strangely pleased that she had. “We have settlements, of course, and soldiers sleep in bunks. But we do not use tents when we are out on the field because we have small shelters scattered throughout the Clan Lands.”

“Walled shelters?”

Kotallo hummed thoughtfully, shaking his head. “They are just tarps, branches, or hay strung to planks of wood.”

“But what if it’s really cold?”

“I cannot speak for the other clans, but Sky Clan soldiers are not bothered by the cold.”

Aloy narrowed her eyes at him. “Even when there’s snow?”

Kotallo scoffed and smirked. “Of course. Our soldiers were forged in snow, we cut our teeth in ice.”

“You’re so full of it,” she said with a chuckle.

“What does that mean?”

Aloy lifted her left shoulder in a small shrug. “Something the Old Ones used to say. Means you’re lying.”

“I’m telling you the truth, I assure you.”

They grinned at one another, letting a comfortable silence fall as they stared at each other. Aloy looked incredibly content lying on his bedroll, breathing deeply as she slowly blinked at him. It brought back that same fluttering feeling in his chest that threatened to overwhelm him. He blew out a breath and nodded at her. “Go to sleep, Aloy,” he said. “I will watch over you.”

She sighed and nuzzled her cheek again on his bedroll. “Okay,” she said softly, before closing her eyes, whatever tension that remained slowly seeping from her.

Kotallo watched over her as she slept, just as he said he would, only looking away whenever the ravager came close, but quickly turning his eyes back to her when it went away. Sometime during the night, Aloy had removed her head from her arm so now it was pressed against her chest, with her fist loosely curled under her chin. She looked younger when she was asleep with her forehead relaxed, and her lips slightly parted. Beautiful, even in the dark.

Of all the things that could have happened to Kotallo after his maiming and his exile, he had never expected that he would fall in love. And it was definitely love that he felt for Aloy, not a strong feeling of friendship like he foolishly thought. He would have been able to continue to deny it, if they’d stayed in Pitchcliff, but now that they were alone there was no use trying to run from his own feelings. 

How would he be able to keep this from her while he kept her company on her travels? How would she fail to eventually notice when so many other people seemed to have already picked up on his feelings? He was surprised she hadn’t felt how his heart raced earlier, with how closely they were pressed against each other. Perhaps she attributed it to adrenaline, what with the glinthawk hovering above them. But how long until she caught on?

Kotallo had promised to help Aloy and to follow her wherever she went, and he would do so as long as she still wanted him by her side. He would be able to live through her rejection, but it would pain him to see her acting uncomfortable around him afterwards.

Rubbing his chest to ease the aching he felt, Kotallo blew out a breath, and swore she would never know. He’d keep up the charade of friendship for as long as it took. And perhaps, with time, his feelings would fade. 

Hours passed as Kotallo continued to stare at her as she slept, his desire to take in the sight of her without consequence overpowering any guilt he felt by doing so. When he felt his eyes start to droop, he walked over to her and crouched beside her. His hand hovering over her shoulder, he hesitated, before lightly tapping her. “Aloy,” he muttered. “It’s your turn to take watch.”

She didn’t stir. Biting the inside of his cheek, he placed his hand on her shoulder and stroked her soft skin with his thumb. “Aloy,” he called her name again, a bit louder this time.

Aloy wrinkled her nose and opened one eye, before turning her face and smiling sleepily up at him. “Hi,” she said softly.

Warmth flooded his chest, a fantasy of waking up to her beautiful face everyday flashing in his mind. He cleared his throat and retrieved his hand. “Hello.”

Rubbing her eyes with her left hand, she lifted herself onto her right elbow. “Sleepy?”

“A little,” Kotallo admitted with a sheepish smile. “Do you mind taking over?”

Aloy shook her head, then stretched her arms above her, letting out a deep groan and giving Kotallo a view of the smooth planes of her stomach, the moonlight making her skin look even paler. He stood up abruptly, looking away from her to stare at the tramplers in the distance as he rubbed his mouth. Control yourself, he thought to himself.

She stood up and rolled her shoulders as she stepped away from the bedroll. “All yours.”

Clearing his throat again, Kotallo lay on his right side on the bedroll, just as she had, and breathed in deeply. His bedroll smelled like her hair, sweet and inviting, and it still held some of her warmth. It almost felt like being cocooned in her embrace. Releasing a shaky breath, he rolled onto his back, willing his mind to cease conjuring fantasies of what could never be as he forced himself to trace the stars scattered across the inky sky.

“Can’t sleep now that you’re comfortable?” Aloy said, her voice dripping in wry amusement.

Keeping his eyes on the sky, Kotallo huffed and forced a smile. “It is as you say.” He put his hand on his stomach and took a deep breath through his nose, feeling his belly fill with air. He held his breath, then slowly released it through slightly parted lips. He did this three more times, all the while feeling Aloy’s eyes on him. 

“Does that work?” 

Clicking his tongue, Kotallo finally turned his head to look at her, and found that she was sitting in the same spot he had been. “If there are no distractions, yes.”

Aloy’s face lit up as she grinned. She stood up, dusted off her pants, and walked over to him. Then she sat on the ground, crossing her legs, right next to the top of his head so that he was staring up at her face upside down. “Can I try something?” she asked.

There was a distinctive sly glint in her eye as she stared down at him. He kept his face blank and arched his brow to keep himself from smiling, amused by this playful side of her. “What are you planning, Aloy?”

She rolled her eyes and his heart stuttered as she placed her cool fingers against his temples, then stroked upwards towards his hair until he felt a gentle tug on the cord holding it all together. “It’ll be easier without this.”

It felt almost dishonorable to have her touch him so casually when she was ignorant of his feelings, unaware of how much she affected him. Kotallo hesitated, before finally nodding, giving in to the longing he felt. “Alright,” he rasped.

Aloy removed the cord, her hands gentle on his head, his locs spilling over her fingers. “I’ll tie it up again when you wake up,” she said softly. 

He continued to stare up at her as she brushed her fingers through his hair, gently twisting his dreadlocks, before bringing her fingers back to his temples. The small smile on her face widened almost imperceptibly as she caressed the shaved parts of his head. “Remind me to take care of this when we get back.”

Kotallo swallowed, then nodded, not trusting his voice.

“How are you going to fall asleep if you don’t close your eyes?” She chuckled when he merely blinked up at her. “Close your eyes and go to sleep, Kotallo. I won’t let the ravager get you, I promise.”

He huffed and they smiled at each other for a moment, as Kotallo traced her features one last time with his eyes before closing them as she had asked, letting her fingers in his hair lull him into sleep.

“Sweet dreams,” he heard her say softly, as his consciousness slipped away.

It was the sound of a hawk flying overhead that woke Kotallo, its shadow making the soft light flicker along his eyelids. The sun was rising in the distance when he finally opened his eyes, turning the clouds in the sky a charming shade of pink. Rubbing the crusts from the corner of his eyes, he lifted his head, his gaze immediately falling over Aloy's red hair.

She was turned away from him, sitting on the edge of the cliff, legs dangling in the air. She must have sensed that he was awake because she turned her head around to look at him, a smile already on her lips. "Good morning," she said. "I was going to wake you in a few minutes."

Kotallo sighed, unsurprised at the gentle squeeze of contentment that assailed his heart. “If you’d woken me earlier, I could have gone hunting for us,” he said as he stood and walked over to sit beside her on her left, letting his feet dangle over the edge like hers.

“Not much to hunt out here,” Aloy said, shrugging. She shot him a smirk before reaching into her satchel. “Good thing I have this.”

She tossed a familiar bag on his lap. “Ah, yes,” Kotallo said in a droll voice. “Your beloved trail mix.”

Aloy tossed her head back as she laughed, her eyes closing in delight, and pride surged in his chest. She was grinning when she finally stopped. “They’re handy in a pinch,” she said, standing up to move behind him. Kotallo closed his eyes at the feel of her fingers in his hair, going through the motions of binding his hair back up. “Give it back if you don’t want any.”

Kotallo hummed, savoring the feeling of her gentle hands, before he opened his eyes again, opened up the bag, and tossed some of the trail mix in his mouth. Then he looked up at what was beyond the cliff. It was an extraordinary view of magnificent badlands with giant plates of stone and rock tilted upright. There were high mesas in the horizon, deep canyons, and beautiful arches like the one they were under. All coated in the fog of the early morning, the rocks tinged pink from the rising sun.

“Is there anything like this in the west?” Aloy asked, her voice soft as she sat down again next to him.

“No,” he said, looking to the side, a flicker of movement catching his eye, and found that she was kicking her feet lightly in the air. “But there are places in the Clan Lands that rival it.” 

She turned to him, her eyes wide with interest. “Like what?”

“There is an abandoned settlement in the middle of a dense forest that we call the Stand of the Sentinels, located in Lowland territory,” Kotallo said, then looked up, conjuring an image of his mind of what the forest looked like. “The trees are so tall that they cover the sky when you stand directly beneath them. Their trunks so wide, it would take at least thirty people to circle around it completely.”

Kotallo glanced down and saw that Aloy was also looking up, her eyes darting left and right, trying to imagine what he saw in his mind’s eye. She sighed and looked back at him. “That sounds amazing. I haven’t seen anything like that here. What else?”

His eyebrows leapt. “What else?”

“What else is in the Clan Lands?”

He hummed as he thought, then smiled as he thought of Tide’s Reach. “There is another settlement, also in Lowland territory—”

“What, no beautiful views in Sky Clan territory?” Aloy interjected with a smirk.

Kotallo shot her a chiding look. “Perhaps it is because I had grown so used to the view that I no longer think it spectacular,” he said, ignoring the twinge of resentment that stemmed from painful memories, and the desire he felt to see his home again.

She chuckled, then nodded for him to continue. “Okay, go on.”

He narrowed his eyes at her playfully before he did. “The settlement is built on wooden platforms atop of rocks. If you look out to the west, you will see water, extending to as far as your eye can see,” he said, sweeping his hand in front of him. “Infinitely larger than any lake you will ever come across. There is nothing on the horizon, only endless blue, and tall waves that tower over you if you come close enough. No boat that we’ve ever built has gone far enough to see what could be on the other side.”

Aloy stared at him with wide eyes, with what almost looked like longing. “I can’t see it,” she said, a hint of sadness coloring her voice. 

Kotallo smiled. “Perhaps one day, I’ll sh—,” he stopped suddenly, the sharp intake of his breath sounding almost like a sob. He looked away from her, turning his head so that he was facing the sun, blinking his eyes in rapid succession. 

He looked down and closed the bag of trail mix, handing it back to Aloy without looking at her, and stood up. “We should not delay,” he said, before walking over to his bedroll. 

“Okay,” Kotallo heard her say softly as he packed his bedroll and put it back in his satchel. When he stood up and turned to face her, Aloy was looking away from him. She turned her head slightly to address him, but kept her eyes away from his face. “Ready?”

He took a deep breath to steady himself, thankful that Aloy was giving him what privacy she could. “Lead the way,” he said.

Kotallo followed her down the slope of land, and to a sharp left into a narrow passage right next to the cliff they were on, that led to a large area of land with no trees in between the surrounding cliffs. He’d seen it from above, but didn’t realize they were going to pass through an area that provided no cover. “It’s too open,” he murmured. 

“It’s the only way,” Aloy said, before dropping into a crouch. There were two scrappers circling around a bit of ways away. Kotallo dropped into a crouch as well, and they both moved slowly forward.

By mid-morning, they finally reached the edge of the small cliff overlooking the shallow part of a river where snapmaws were resting. Aloy clicked her tongue. “We’re close. Thunderjaw should be just beyond that,” she said, pointing to the enormous mesa next to the river that towered over them. She looked to the left and jerked her head. “This way.”

They climbed down the cliff through another narrow pass, stopping for a moment when they both spotted a ravager patrolling above another cliff. “It won’t come here. Let’s go,” Aloy said, and led him down next to the river, far from the snapmaws.

It was a bit deeper here in this part of the river, deep enough that Aloy had to swim to the riverbank across. She scowled at the smirk on Kotallo’s face when she saw that he was tall enough that his feet reached the bottom. “It is not the river’s fault that you’re too small,” he said, then chuckled when she hissed at him to shut up. 

There were no machines nearby, as they walked along the edges of the mesa, except for one. “Tallneck,” Kotallo breathed.

Aloy looked up at him as she squeezed water from her hair. “So there are tallnecks in the west?” At Kotallo’s nod, she grinned. “I’ve been on top of one.”

Kotallo looked at her incredulously. “You climbed a tallneck and stood on its head?”

“Yep,” she said, snickering. 

“What for?”

“Just to see what it was like up there.”

He looked at her fondly, shaking his head at her as a smile formed on his lips. “You’re a mad woman.”

Her answering grin made his heart swell. “I’ll take you up on one, one of these days.”

Looking back at the tallneck, Kotallo sighed and shook his head again. “It would be impossible for me to climb that high with only one arm. ” When Aloy didn’t answer, he turned his head again to look at her and found that she was frowning up at him. “What is it?”

She pressed her lips firmly together. “I don’t like it when you talk like that.”

“Like what?”

Crossing her arms, Aloy clicked her tongue and disturbed the dirt on the ground with her foot. “Like—Like you're less than the man you were."

He sighed again as he drank in the vulnerable hunch of her shoulders. "Aloy, I am less than the man I was." He lifted his stump. "I only have one arm now. It is merely the truth that I can no longer do the things I could do when I still had both."

"But that doesn't mean—," Aloy stopped, then chewed on her lip as her frown deepened. She blew out a breath, shaking her head, then turned away from him. "I just wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

Kotallo stared at her back as she walked away, taken aback by what she said. He followed her silently down the road, not knowing how to respond. They stopped to stare up at the tallneck as they neared, its clunking figure trudging away to continue its patrol. The land stretched beyond them, the horizon blocked by mesas and buttes scattered across the land.

"The thunderjaw should just be up here," Aloy said, nodding her head in the opposite direction of the tallneck, where the land sloped upwards beside the enormous mesa they circled around. 

Kotallo followed her, the slope steep enough that they had to use their hands to climb up. Once they were at the top of the slope, Kotallo saw they were overlooking a field almost completely surrounded by mesas, creating the illusion of a bowl-shaped stretch of dry land, with some cacti and sagebrush scattered at random. Inside the bowl were a herd of lancehorns, drilling the soil near two ponds. 

And right there, next to the cliff was the hulking figure of a thunderjaw. He and Aloy ducked behind one of the rocks as it stomped towards them, before moving back to disappear from view.

“There it is,” Aloy murmured beside him. Kotallo turned to her, but movement caught his eye as he did, and he turned to look, only for his heart to seize. Aloy turned to look in the same direction and gasped.

There at almost the end of the field, appearing from behind the curve of the mesa, was a second thunderjaw.

Kotallo rubbed his mouth, his eyes wide as they darted between the two thunderjaws, dread squeezing his chest like a vice. Aloy turned to him, her eyes as wide as his and whispered, “Now what?”

Chapter Text

Kotallo watched as Aloy climbed the mesa, her footsteps swift and silent. She cast one quick look back at him, too quick for him to make sense of the way her eyes softened, before she disappeared from view. He frowned, taking a moment to re-focus, before lowering himself on the ground. Now was not the time to think about anything else but their mission.

He set down his satchel next to Aloy’s and crawled towards the next rock, near the thunderjaw as quietly as he could, taking care not to put too much pressure on his stump. The thunderjaw was massive, its head reaching a few inches past the top of the slope. Kotallo observed it as it walked away, its bulky legs knocking over the cacti in the area. It didn’t seem any different from the thunderjaws out west, and he’d watched the one milling about in the Shining Wastes in between the Memorial Grove and Scalding Spear a few times on Marshal duty. It looked very much the same with its long body, thick legs, and heavy tail. It seemed like it had the same array of weapons, as well: two disc launchers and two mandibular cannons.

But there was something about it that was different, he just couldn’t tell what. 

Tapping his fingers lightly on the ground, Kotallo decided he’d just have to wait for Aloy to report back. If there was anyone who would know anything more about these powerful beasts, it would be her.

He crawled back towards their satchels and leaned against the wall of the mesa, sighing in relief at what shade it offered from the growing heat of the morning sun. As he dusted off the front of his top and pants, the tallneck passed again from the other side of the road, clouds of dust appearing below it each time its feet stomped on the ground. It wasn’t the time to wonder about the words Aloy had spoken to him earlier, but it was not as if he could do much from where he sat, on the top of the slope of rock and dust where they had first caught sight of the second thunderjaw she was scoping out now. 

Aloy had seemed excited at the idea of taking him up on a tallneck, and he’d been quick to disappoint her by saying it would be impossible for him to climb. Kotallo looked at it now as it walked away, revealing the yellow, uneven platforms on the back of its neck that went all the way up to the flat, giant disc that made up its head. Perhaps if there was a high enough structure he could jump off of to land on one of those platforms, he’d be able to use some rope to get to the top. Though he was sure his sense of balance would be challenged, since the tallneck never stopped moving. And he still wasn’t sure what purpose could be gained from standing atop of a tallneck’s head. 

Kotallo continued to stare at the tallneck as it moved away to continue its patrol, the memory of Aloy’s back as she turned away from him flashing in his mind, her words echoing in his skull. 

I just wish you could see yourself the way I see you.

It would be difficult for him, as all things now were without both arms. But perhaps…not impossible.

“Hey.”

Kotallo looked up just as Aloy appeared from atop of the mesa. She began climbing down with ease, breaking off tiny bits of rock as she slid down some of the way. She sat beside him on his right when she reached the bottom, dragged her right leg up and placed her hand on her knee.

He let her catch her breath for a moment before speaking. “What did you find?”

Aloy leaned her head against the wall of the mesa and turned her head to look at him, her face leaning close enough to his that he could see that her freckles had darkened from her time out in the sun. “It isn’t closed all the way around, but the thunderjaw doesn’t walk too close to that opening on the other side.”

“Could we lead it there?”

She shrugged. “We could. I brought some tearblast arrows with me. I could shoot the disc launchers off from afar.”

“Without alerting this one?” Kotallo asked, jerking his head towards their left where the other thunderjaw was. 

“Maybe,” she said with a frown.

Kotallo hummed. “Tell me how you defeated a thunderjaw on your own.” 

Aloy sighed and started ticking off her fingers. “Tore off the disc launchers, tore off the cannons on its face, then kept shooting at its heart, which we can’t do because—”

“Because we need its heart intact,” Kotallo finished for her. He tapped his fingers on his thigh as he thought. It was known that the heart was a weakpoint, but taking down the thunderjaw without hitting its heart would take hours. Its armor was too thick, and even without its weapons, it could still run them through or hit them with its tail. “Could we extract the heart without having to kill the beast first?”

“Take it while it's tied down?” Aloy asked, though by the way she wrinkled her nose, Kotallo knew that she’d already thought about it. “There’s another issue. The first thunderjaw I saw, the one I took down? Its heart was exposed from the sides. That’s why I could shoot at it.”

Kotallo suddenly understood. He’d noticed that there was something different about the thunderjaw earlier. He gestured to the one closest to them. “This one has armor plating on the sides.”

Aloy nodded. “The other one has them, too. So here’s what I was thinking,” she said, leaning closer. “Take off the disc launchers, then the cannons, and then—,” she paused, then shook her head. “We’ll have to take the radar off first before anything else, then we take off its weapons.”

“The radar?” Kotallo asked.

“That component on its back,” Aloy said, pushing herself off the wall to point at the thunderjaw. “See that? It’s the one right in front of its antennas.”

The component she spoke of sat on top of the base of its long neck. It was much smaller than the disc launchers, and almost rectangular in shape. As far as Kotallo knew, it wasn’t a weapon. “I see it,” he said, then turned back to look at her. “What does it do?”

She scrunched up her face in thought. “It’s the component that…helps them sense hunters in the vicinity.”

His eyebrows leapt. “I didn’t know machines had the capability to do that. And it didn't seem to sense me when I was near it."

Aloy clicked her tongue. “You were lucky, then. Only some machines can do that. That’s why we need to take that out first, then we take out its weapons, and then we tie it down.”

“It will not stay tied down for long.”

“No, it won’t,” Aloy said. Then she pointed her finger at him. “So I’ll stay on the ground, make sure it stays down with my ropecaster, while you extract the heart.”

“You want me to climb up the beast while it’s tied down,” Kotallo muttered. He hummed, then noticed Aloy was frowning at him, as if waiting for him to dismiss her idea. 

A part of him wanted to dismiss it. It might be easier if he was the one on the ground with the ropecaster while Aloy climbed up. It would be faster, too, since she had two arms. But, then again, it was not as if he would be as mobile on the ground as Aloy, and the ropecaster was not a one-handed weapon. 

“What are you thinking?” Aloy said.

I don’t like it when you talk like that, she had told him when Kotallo said it would be impossible for him to climb the tallneck. With the way that Aloy was frowning at him and holding her breath, he knew that she was expecting him to say the same thing again now. 

Difficult, but not impossible, he thought to himself, before sighing. “Alright,” Kotallo said with a nod. “It’s a sound plan.”

Aloy blinked, then her lips curled into a soft smile. For a moment, Kotallo thought that she looked almost proud of him, before her smile turned distinctly smug. “Told you I had excellent ideas.”

He huffed. “I’ll agree only when this plan of yours works.”

“It’ll work,” Aloy said with a lift of her chin. “You’ll get the heart. I know you will.”

Kotallo bit the inside of his cheek, but couldn’t completely stop himself from smiling, affection for her suffusing his chest with warmth. “You have my thanks, Aloy.”

Her smile slowly faded as she stared at him with wide eyes. “For what?” she whispered.

Suddenly fearing that his feelings were written so plainly on his face, Kotallo schooled his expression as best as he could. “For believing in me,” he said. He stood up and held out his hand to her. “Come. Let us do what we came here to do.”

Aloy hesitated, her forehead creasing, before she took his hand and let him pull her off the ground. “Right,” she said, retrieving her hand and bending down to swing her satchel over her shoulder. “Ready?”

He rubbed his fingers on his palm, taking a moment to preserve the memory of her hand in his, before lifting his own satchel off the ground. He stretched out his arm and uncurled his fingers. “After you.”

Kotallo followed Aloy around the mesa, along the river they waded across earlier. They snuck by the broadheads grazing by the river easily, walking past them in a crouch once all of their heads were close to the ground. The ground was littered with desert plants on this side of the mesa, and Kotallo was pleased to see that there was grass tall enough to hide in. It would be easier to fight the thunderjaw here, than from the other side. There was certainly more room to run.

The sun was at its peak in the sky when they set down their satchels near one of the larger rocks, but it would not stay there for long and they would be fools to believe that this would be a quick fight. Kotallo removed his javelins from his back. For his part in this, he would only need his spear and he would need to be light on his feet. Doubt wormed its way into his gut as he watched the thunderjaw in the distance, but that wouldn’t do. He closed his eyes, breathed through his nose, and expelled it all through his mouth. Bouncing lightly on his feet, Kotallo rotated his neck and flexed his back until he could feel adrenaline thrumming in his veins. 

By the Ten, they would see this through. They had to.

Kotallo opened his eyes to focus on the thunderjaw, but his gaze wandered over to Aloy, surprised to find her staring at him, her bright eyes glazed over. “Okay,” she said, then blinked in rapid succession, almost as if to wake herself up. “Okay. Okay, okay,” she repeated louder, as she took her sharpshot bow off her back. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, stepping towards her. “Is there something wro—”

Aloy moved back a step and turned her head away from him to look at the thunderjaw. “I’m fine,” she said. “Just…got distracted, that’s all.”

Kotallo frowned at her. “We cannot afford to be distracted now, Aloy.” Clicking her tongue, she glared at him and muttered something under her breath. He sighed, tamping down on the frustration rising within him. They were wasting time just standing there. “Aloy.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” she said. But before she could march away in a huff, Kotallo reached out and gripped her elbow, taking care to keep his hold light. 

“A moment before you go,” he said, waiting for her to look at him. When she did, he dropped his hand, resisting the urge to let his fingers slide down her arm. “Strike true.”

Aloy nodded, her lips pursed. “You, too,” she said, before jogging ahead. 

He watched her disappear into tall grass some distance away, her hair blending seamlessly with its reddish leaves, then he dropped into a crouch and moved into position closer to the mesa. Aloy was no longer where she was when he looked back, and he presumed that she had already started moving closer. The wind drowned out whatever sound her bow made, and the only sound that alerted Kotallo that the battle had begun was the familiar groan of a tearblast arrow hitting its mark followed closely by a short explosive blast. 

“Yes!” Kotallo hissed as the thunderjaw roared, its radar falling off its body. It whirled its head around, then spun the rest of its body towards their direction. It turned its head, looking for the source of the arrow, before moving towards the uneven slope of rock at the base of the mesa, the ground shaking beneath its large feet as it grew closer. Kotallo peered over to the other thunderjaw in the distance and let out a sigh of relief when it remained unaware. 

Kotallo heard another tearblast arrow hit its mark, and watched in awe as one of the disc launchers fell to the ground. Heat washed over him, his skin prickling in the air. Eager for his part, Kotallo slowly moved closer, his blood pulsing with energy as the thunderjaw’s second disc launcher tore off. 

They could do this! 

But the thunderjaw lifted its head upward in the air and let out a mighty roar, before it widened its stance and dropped its head close to the ground. Kotallo’s heart seized as he looked out into the field, trying to spot Aloy’s red hair when a fan-shaped spread of beams shot out through the front of the thunderjaw’s head. 

Aloy appeared, releasing another tearblast arrow as she rolled away just in time. He knew that she meant to hit the thunderjaw’s face, as close to one of its mandibular cannons as possible, but her arrow went wide and hit the side of its neck instead, tearing out the armor plating. 

She ran out, abandoning stealth as she stowed her sharpshot bow and brought out the ropecaster. Kotallo’s eyes widened—it was too early! This was not the plan!

Aloy shot the thunderjaw with the ropecaster on the right side of its neck, then rolled to the side, then shot again! She disappeared from Kotallo’s view, but he could still hear the ropes connecting until the thunderjaw fell on its right side, the ground trembling from the impact its heavy body made.

“Kotallo!” he heard Aloy shout. “Now!”

He dashed towards the thunderjaw and jumped on its foot, shooting his hand out to grab one of the cables running down below its knee. Kotallo jolted at the warmth emanating from the cable, but shook his surprise away as he pulled himself up, before bending his knees and launching himself upward to grab the metal plating on its thigh.

The thunderjaw shuddered beneath him and he heard one of the ropes snap, followed closely by the sound of Aloy firing the ropecaster again. “Hurry!”

“Don’t need—to tell me,” Kotallo said through gritted teeth as he pulled with his hand, the bottom of his boots squeaking as he pushed himself up further. 

He finally reached the plating protecting the beast’s heart, panting and sweating through his armor, when another rope snapped. Aloy’s head appeared as she shot another rope towards its back. “Running out of rope!” she yelled in an almost sing-song manner. 

“I’m going as fast as I can!” he yelled back, before taking out his spear from his back, and piercing the armor plating on the bottom corner. He put his full weight on his spear, grunting as he tried to wrest the plating off, when the thunderjaw shuddered again. 

More than one rope snapped off.

“Kotallo, get out of there!”

The thunderjaw jumped up with a roar, shaking its body and flinging Kotallo high up against the wall of the mesa. A flash of white-hot pain rippled through his torso as his left side hit rock before he fell, his body sliding down the uneven slope. 

Breathing hard, Kotallo lifted his head and blinked his eyes in quick succession to rid himself of the fog over his eyes until his vision cleared. He stood up on shaky legs and watched as the thunderjaw moved its head from one side to the other, firing projectiles in a sweeping motion. Fear lodged in Kotallo’s throat, even as Aloy was able to roll away and shoot another tearblast arrow, hitting it squarely on the thunderjaw’s face. 

The last of its cannons fell and it roared again, lowering its body, gearing up to charge at Aloy straight on. 

“No!” Kotallo yelled, springing to his feet in a burst of energy. He ran across the slope, shutting his mind off, ignoring all logical thought as he let his body move on its own. Air rushed through him, ruffling his armor as he sprinted, his heart thundering in his ears. 

Just like the Ten, he thought as he leapt from the mesa and onto the back of the thunderjaw. 

It didn’t seem to notice Kotallo at all, even when his boots clanged against its metal plating. It charged at Aloy still, and he sprinted forward, using the momentum to his advantage, hoping he wouldn’t slip. He grabbed his spear as he passed by it, still lodged inside the plating protecting its heart, and pulled it out, causing him to stumble backwards. 

“Get out of there!” he heard Aloy shout through the haze of adrenaline. 

Kotallo gave a mighty roar of his own and sprang up again. He ran towards the thunderjaw’s head, glancing up for a moment to see Aloy standing still a distance away, but right in front of the machine’s path, an arrow nocked and waiting to fly.

He jumped over the ridges along the thunderjaw’s neck, slid down the rest of the way, then planted his feet right next to the gap just before its head. The glass center of its head glowed a bright red, as if sensing its imminent demise. 

“DIE MACHINE FILTH!” 

Kotallo stabbed the center with his spear, the glass cracking immediately from the impact. He stabbed it again, and again, and again, until it finally gave way, the point of his spear disappearing inside. Roaring again, Kotallo twisted his spear, and the glass stopped glowing. The thunderjaw immediately fell to its knees mid-run, head hitting the ground in a sudden stop and flinging Kotallo forward.

He landed on his back, grunting in pain as his body ached all over. Aloy was above him immediately, her hair spilling from her shoulders, scanning his face and body with wide eyes. “I’m not dead yet,” Kotallo rasped as he attempted a smile, but only managed a grimace. 

Aloy put her hand on his left shoulder and grabbed his right arm. “Can you stand?”

Kotallo nodded, grabbing her arm as well and grunting again as he stood up with her help. He turned around, his heart still racing, and regarded the dead thunderjaw on the ground a few feet away from them. 

“You…”

He glanced sharply back at Aloy, realizing with a jolt that they were still holding each other’s arm, when she threw her head back and laughed, her eyes squeezing shut. “You j-jumped!”

“I had to,” Kotallo said, immensely distracted by the feel of her fingers squeezing his bicep and of the way the redness of her cheeks traveled all the way to the base of her neck. He gripped her arm a bit tighter when she doubled over, still laughing. “It was going to run you through.”

“And you call me reckless?” Aloy said as she straightened, wiping her eyes with her right hand. 

Kotallo grinned. “As I’ve said: you are a bad influence.”

She scoffed, though she was also sporting a grin. “Oh, I’m a bad influence, huh?” she said, before her free hand darted out to poke him on his side. 

He flinched and pain shot up his ribs. “Don’t.”

Aloy’s hand darted out again, but he moved quickly this time. Without thinking, he pulled her arm and sent her colliding against his chest, her right hand landing on his stump. 

Under any other circumstances, Kotallo would have recoiled at anyone touching his shortened left arm. He had barely tolerated it when Zo had to tend to it when it was still healing. But it was Aloy’s warm hand against his skin now, her thumb touching the large, raised scar that traveled past the blue linen he used to cover it. He waited for her to pull away, but she stayed pressed close to him, staring up at him with guileless eyes, and didn't seem aware that she was holding his stump at all. She was so close that he felt the puffs of breath that escaped her parted lips.

Kotallo could see thoughts racing behind those eyes, and wondered if she could see right through him. Or perhaps she didn’t need to. Perhaps she could hear his heart pounding against his chest, or perhaps even feel it, with how closely she was pressed against him. 

A wave of panic flooded his stomach and rushed through his body at the thought that he’d given himself away. That Aloy was staring up at him the way that she was because of shock. There was no way that she didn’t know now how he felt about her. She would push him away after this, insulted that he even thought that way about her, when he was just a mai—

She rose up on her toes and silenced his thoughts with a kiss.

Kotallo froze, his heart stuttering to a stop.

It was over faster than he could blink. Aloy pulled away from him, her eyes wide and glittering, her face redder than he’d ever seen. Mortification was written on her face as plain as day when she dropped her hands and stepped back from him. “Sorry, that was—I don’t know why—um—”

The sound of Kotallo’s heart reawakening in his chest drowned out the rest of her words as he gripped her arm tighter and pulled her back to him until her body was pressed once more against him. He didn’t know what possessed Aloy to kiss him: if it was because of the lingering adrenaline from the battle, or of the flood of relief for coming out alive, or the giddy feeling of victory. But he couldn’t find it in himself at that moment to care. He might never have this chance again. 

Letting go of her arm to cup her cheek, Kotallo stood enthralled by the way Aloy’s eyes slid closed, just before he leaned down and brought their lips together.

He kept the kiss light, relishing in the weight of her soft lips against his as they parted for him slowly, sparks igniting in his gut at the realization that she was kissing him back. He felt her hands cradle the sides of his face, her thumbs stroking his earlobes, her fingers as gentle as they had been when she played with his hair the night before. 

Kotallo melted into her touch. He moved his hand to the back of her neck, and slanted his head to deepen the kiss, his pulse quickening at the soft sigh that managed to slip past her lips. Yearning to hear that sound once more, he nipped her lower lip, and his heart rejoiced when she rewarded him with a tiny whimper.

Aloy wrapped her arms around his neck, tilted her head more, and licked Kotallo’s lips.

He inhaled sharply, then flinched and broke the kiss with a loud groan as pain flared up in his ribs. 

“What’s wrong?” Aloy said, her eyes wide again, this time with worry, as she scanned his body. “Are you hurt anyw—”

No, he couldn’t let it end. Not yet. Please. 

Kotallo captured her lips with his, ceasing her words. Desire tore through him as he kissed her hungrily, wrapping his arm around her waist, and marveling at the feel of her bare skin beneath his palm. She moaned against his mouth and kissed him back just as deeply, licking his tongue as eagerly as he was licking hers. 

A niggling thought entered Kotallo’s mind: this kiss wouldn’t last forever. But he didn’t care. If this was the last time he would have Aloy like this, Kotallo would prolong the moment for as long as he could, for as long as she allowed it.

Desperation crawled up Kotallo's throat, making him pull her closer so that every part of her was flush against him. He wanted Aloy with an intensity that almost frightened him, and wondered if she could feel just how much he longed for her, when she rolled her hips, her stomach gliding against his erection.

Kotallo couldn’t help the sharp intake of his breath, regretting it immediately when he was forced to break their kiss again to lean his forehead against hers as he winced in pain. 

“Okay, you’re really hurt,” Aloy said, gripping his shoulders and walking him backwards to the nearest rock and pushing him down to sit. He let go of her to wrap his arm around his torso, placing his palm flat against his side where the pain was strongest. 

Dread churned his stomach as Kotallo slowly looked up at her, only to be struck dumb by Aloy’s heated gaze as she stared at him, before she gasped and blinked rapidly. Clearing her throat, she walked backwards, gesturing with her thumb at the previously forgotten thunderjaw behind her. “I’m gonna get the heart. You—uh, you stay there.”

Aloy turned around abruptly and jogged up towards the machine, and Kotallo watched as she climbed nimbly up at its neck. She thrust her spear into the armor plating just as Kotallo had, seemingly focused on her task but for the way she bit her lip and how her eyes darted over to Kotallo every now and then.

Hope bloomed in his chest as he watched her, his lips still tingling from their kiss, the memory tempering the edges of the pain still pulsing through his ribs. Was it possible that Aloy was interested in him? Kotallo frowned as soon as the thought entered his mind. Aloy had many admirers, men and women who were intact, whole. What would she possibly see in a man like him? An exile, a man with no tribe—and not even a whole man. 

But she had been the one to initiate the kiss. And she kissed him back when Kotallo had finally gathered his wits to pull her close. Doubt crept in and took hold, but he had to know if she felt the same, if the heat she demonstrated earlier was because she desired him.

And what if she did? On the slim chance that Aloy confirmed that she was interested, there was nothing that Kotallo could offer her. If they were back in the Clan Lands, Kotallo wouldn’t even have hesitated, but out here he had nothing—was nothing. 

Looking up and halting his thoughts, Kotallo stood as Aloy approached with the thunderjaw’s heart. It was large enough that she needed two hands to hold it. “Still intact,” she said, lifting it and turning it in her hands for Kotallo to inspect.

“Perfect condition.”

“Yeah,” Aloy said, looking shyly up at him. “You did great.”

“We did great,” Kotallo said, keeping his hand on his left side, though he ached to touch her. He wanted to kiss her again, to spend time discovering how to bring out those sounds of pleasure she made earlier. But they couldn’t delay their return to Pitchcliff.

Bending down next to her satchel, Aloy placed the thunderjaw’s heart inside then stood up, swinging it over her shoulder. “Guess we should head back,” she said softly, a hint of regret in her voice that fueled the hope in Kotallo’s chest.

He sighed, then winced. “Yes, we should.”

They went back the way they came, through the same river, and the same rocky fields, and past the same machines. But their progress was slow, hindered by Kotallo’s injury, and more than once they had to hide behind rocks or in tall grasses. He’d be lying if he said he minded the latter. More than once, Aloy had to press against him, though the thought that she did so on purpose crossed his mind whenever she looked up at him through her lashes, as if to tempt him.

Do not get ahead of yourself, Kotallo thought. First, they needed to return to Pitchcliff and deliver the heart, then he needed to speak to her properly.

It was late afternoon on the third day when they had finally arrived, the cooler temperature a welcome change to the dry heat of the last three days. They spotted Varl and Erend next to the guardhouse below the winding path, waving their hands in the air. Erend ran up and went inside the settlement before they even reached Varl.

“He doesn’t even know if we have the heart, yet,” Aloy said with a sigh.

Varl scoffed. “As if you’d return without it,” he said, before turning his head to look at Kotallo with knitted brows. “You alright?”

Kotallo winced, but allowed Varl to take his satchel from him. “I will feel better once we deliver the heart,” he said, gesturing to Aloy. 

“You have to tell me all about how you got it,” Varl said, grinning at the two of them as they walked up. 

“Later,” Aloy said tersely. “Let’s get Kotallo to Zo, first.”

Kotallo shot her a small smile, touched by her concern. “I’m alright,” he said, smiling wider when she blushed and looked away from him. He fiddled with a loose thread in his armor, keeping his hand busy so as not to reach out to her. He would have time later to speak to her, and he’ll wait for the time when they were alone.

Varl narrowed his eyes, honing in on the redness spreading from Aloy’s cheeks, before a smile slowly spread on his face. “Did something happen?”

Clicking her tongue, Aloy elbowed Varl hard, scowling at him as she walked ahead of them. Varl rubbed his side, but his grimace soon turned into a grin as he arched a brow at Kotallo. “Well? Did something happen or not?”

Kotallo shrugged. “We procured the heart.”

“That’s it?”

He nodded and bit back the urge to smirk at Varl’s disappointed face. Truthfully, Kotallo would rather get the heart to Ralert right away so that he can ask Aloy the question that had been burning within him. And he didn’t want others to know what had transpired between them before he had the chance to speak with her. 

They walked through the arch, and Kotallo immediately looked for any signs that they had prepared to leave, but he only found the usual Oseram milling about, going through their day. “We knew you’d come back with the heart, Kotallo,” Varl said. “You always come through for us.”

He shot Varl a chiding look. “Even the best laid plans can go awry.”

“You haven’t failed us yet,” Varl said with a shrug.

“That does not make me infallible. You should always prepare for the worst.”

Varl smiled, but nodded. “Alright, alright. I’ll remember that for next time.”

They reached the yellow rope ladder that would take them up to Ralert’s overlook, but found that the mayor was already leaning over the railway, looking down at them with a scowl on his face. “You have it?” Aloy took out the heart from inside her satchel and raised it high above her head. 

Ralert pressed his lips in a firm line, studying the heart from afar, before he snapped his fingers and pointed to one of the Oseram guards standing at attention. “Get that to Bahten, will you?” he said, then turned his head to look at Kotallo, his face scrunched up in disappointment. “A deal’s a deal.”

Kotallo nodded up at Ralert as he disappeared from view, before letting his shoulders droop and closing his eyes, suddenly feeling the exhaustion from the last three days. He opened his eyes abruptly at the feel of fingers stroking his left shoulder, too close to his stump for his liking, only to find that Aloy had stepped closer to him. 

“Let’s get you to Zo?” she said, her thumb brushing his skin as it moved back and forth. 

Kotallo released a soft sigh. “Yes, alright,” he said, mourning the loss of Aloy’s warm hand as she walked ahead of them again. 

Ignoring Varl’s knowing smirk, Kotallo followed Aloy into one of the lodges that they had turned into the sickbay. Warm light came rushing out when Aloy opened the door, and the first thing that Kotallo noticed was the dark rings under Zo’s eyes and her sickly pallor. She and Aluki were the only ones inside.

Aluki swept her gaze placidly along Kotallo's form. “You survived.”

“I did,” he said, then nodded to the small pot in her hand. “Are you alright?”

“It’s for Inatut,” she said, glancing at the pot. “I will let Kopilai know that you’ve returned.” 

Aluki walked past them without a second look, and they led Kotallo to one of the cots. The whole lodge was empty now except for them, and he felt grateful that only the people he trusted would see him this way.

Kotallo stroked his thumb restlessly against his knee as Aloy dragged one of the wooden stools closer to his cot. He waited for her to look at him, but her gaze was trained on Zo. "Are you sick, Zo?” she asked.

“Hello to you, too, Aloy,” Zo said, arching her brow as she sat on the cot next to Kotallo's, and set down a bucket of supplies. 

Aloy wrinkled her nose. “Sorry. I just—I haven’t seen you sick before.”

Shaking his head, Varl moved behind Zo as she sat down on the cot next to Kotallo’s, then reached out to rub her shoulders. “I keep telling her not to overexert herself.”

Zo sighed. “I’m well, thank you for your concern,” she said to Aloy, before turning her head to look at Varl and pat his hand. “I’m fine.”

She did not look fine and she did look more tired, but Kotallo kept his observations to himself. When Zo finally looked at him, he offered her a small smile and gestured to his torso. “Apologies, Zo. I am in need of your assistance yet again.”

Zo waved a dismissive hand and gestured for him to raise his arm, reaching out to assist with his leather armor when he complied. “I’m glad you and Aloy are back and safe. Were you the only one injured?”

But before anyone could answer, the door banged open, revealing Erend with his hands holding steins of ale, two in each hand. He winced at the loud sound. “Sorry, figured we should celebrate!”

Erend pushed the door closed with his hip and set one stein next to Aloy, two next to Kotallo and Zo, and sat down on one of the other stools next to the cots with the remaining stein still in his hand. Varl frowned at him. “Where’s mine?”

Erend scoffed. “Yeah, not making that mistake again,” he said, then turned to Kotallo. “Buddy! You gotta tell me how you took the thunderjaw down!”

“In a moment,” Kotallo said as he lowered his arms again now that Zo had divested him of his leather armor, and kept his eyes from wandering over to Aloy, though he sensed that her eyes were on him.

Erend whistled. “That’s a nasty bruise.”

Kotallo looked down at himself and saw that Erend was right. The skin on his whole left side was swollen and had turned into a sickening shade of purple in the center, though the outer edges still looked red. If Aloy was indeed looking at him, it would be because of this. Clicking his tongue, he turned to Zo. “I may have broken a few ribs.”

Zo merely huffed as she rummaged through her supplies. “You wouldn’t have made it back if you had.”

“Is no one going to tell me how the fight went?”

Kotallo raised his hand to stop Erend from speaking. “First tell me what you found. Was it one of ours that murdered Foran?”

Erend shook his head as he drank deeply from his stein, before setting it down on the small table next to him. “No. His ealdorman wanted him gone. His clan won’t admit it, though.” 

Kotallo hummed, not particularly concerned now that the truth had come to light, but disturbed that a person of authority could order someone's death just like that. But it wasn't for him to judge another tribe's customs.

Aloy lifted her stein and sniffed, before wincing and handing the stein back to Erend. “Did you ever find out why Ralert wanted a thunderjaw heart?”

Rubbing his beard, Erend sighed and placed Aloy's stein on the table. “We’re building a weapon. Well, weapons. They’re making a prototype first.”

“What kind of weapons?” Varl said.

“Stuff that’ll go boom. Can’t say anymore than that. I’m no tinkerer,” Erend said, shrugging. “We need an army of our own if we’re ever gonna beat the Carja. But that’s slow-going, so Ersa figured we should start building weapons to try to even the odds. We hoped Kadaman would’ve taken his old man down by now, but that’s taking a while, too.”

“The first prince?” Kotallo said, his forehead creasing. “What do you mean?”

Erend fell silent as he looked at them one-by-one, his face impassive. Wordlessly, he walked to the door and turned the lock, then sat back down on his stool and leaned forward. “Kadaman’s staging a coup. But, like I said, it’s taking a while,” he said, his voice considerably lower than his usual. “Jiran might’ve caught on, but nothing’s happened yet.” 

Aloy tutted and crossed her arms. “That would explain why he hasn’t left Meridian in a while.”

“Who?” Kotallo asked, knowing that the Sun King never left the safety of his capital.

She frowned. “Helis.”

Kotallo wilted, bothered by the way Aloy suddenly looked small with her shoulders hunched and her head bowed. “He will not stay there forever,” he said firmly.

“He’s gonna stay there for a while until Jiran orders him away. Here’s hoping they don’t skewer one of our last hopes at ending the Red Raids,” Erend said, releasing a heavy sigh before taking another big gulp of ale from his second stein. “Anyway, that’s that. Now will you two tell me how you took the thunderjaw down?”

Aloy smirked. “Kotallo leapt from above onto the thunderjaw’s back and pierced through its data nexus—that red thing made of glass on its head,” she added at Erend’s confused expression. Then she turned back to Kotallo, her eyes softening. “For a few seconds, he looked like he was flying.”

Kotallo gripped his knee, stunned by the way she was looking coyly at him. Then he winced, breaking eye contact as Zo murmured an apology while she bandaged him.  

“Hey! That’s just like the Ten, right? Leaping into battle?” Varl said excitedly, his mouth stretched into a grin.

Pleased that Varl had remembered, Kotallo returned his grin, feeling pride swell in his chest at being compared to the Ten. Erend guffawed, slapping his own thigh with a heavy hand. “Wish I could’ve seen that! You Tenakth are made of hardy stuff!”

Zo stood up and picked up her bucket. “Well, this Tenakth needs rest,” she said, before pinning Kotallo with a firm stare. “You must rest. Leave the hunting to the others for a while.”

Kotallo pursed his lips, but nodded his assent. “As you command.”

Erend slapped his thigh again as he stood from his stool. “We’ll leave you alone to get some shut-eye, buddy,” he said, then pointed to the two steins of ale next to Kotallo. “Hey, Zo, you didn’t drink your ale.”

Zo offered him a weak smile. “Not tonight, Erend.”

Varl swiped it off the table. “Mine, then.”

Frowning at him, Erend took the other stein when Kotallo nodded. “Just one, Varl. I’m not hauling your ass to bed again, you hear me?”

One-by-one they walked out of the lodge, bidding Kotallo good night, but Aloy lingered, standing by the door silently. Kotallo gripped his knee again, his heart racing as he thought of what to say. He had been wanting to get her alone, and now that he had, his mind was blanking. 

Raising her hand to rub her other arm, Aloy looked at her feet and bit her lip. It was obvious that she, too, had things she wanted to say, and a strange blend of anticipation and apprehension swirled in Kotallo’s belly. It was entirely possible that he’d been misreading all of the signals. But what if he hadn’t?

Say something, he thought angrily to himself. Say something before she—

But then Aloy raised her head and shot him a nervous-looking smile. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow,” she said, before opening the door.

Kotallo swallowed, cursing his own hesitation. “Good night, Aloy.”

She turned her head to look at him one last time. “Good night,” she said softly, before closing the door behind her. 

Kotallo released a heavy sigh and slowly lowered himself so that he was lying down on the cot, wincing again as he did. Frustration welled within him. He wanted to speak to her soon, and he wanted to not be in pain every time he moved.

He growled low in his throat, and cursed, “Blood of the Ten.”

Chapter Text

Kotallo knew that he couldn’t expect a restful night of sleep. Every slight movement pained him, robbed him of his breath, making it impossible to find a comfortable position to sleep in. Besides that, his thoughts raced throughout most of the night, breaking off in different directions without his permission. But eventually, they all led him back to the same place.

Carefully lifting his arm, Kotallo pillowed his head on his hand, staring up at the cobwebbed ceiling. He stayed like that for hours, attempting to wrangle his thoughts together into something coherent. He turned over every memory—every smile, every touch, every second of the kiss he shared with Aloy—like clues that held the answer to a mystery waiting to be solved. Yesterday he was brimming with optimism, but now that he was alone with his thoughts, Kotallo had become doubtful again. He was wary now of his own memories, almost certain that he wasn't remembering them correctly, his feelings coloring them with hope.

The uncertainty was maddening, and all he wanted to do was knock on Aloy's door and ask her if she felt the same way. But before he could even do that, he would have to tell her that he loved her. 

Kotallo's heart instantly shriveled at the thought. Perhaps he didn't have to tell her just yet.

Coward. 

The door burst open before Kotallo could properly feel ashamed of himself, and revealed Inatut standing by the doorway, sporting a black eye. "Too injured to see us off?" he asked, smirking as he entered, leaving the door open, and letting cool air fill the lodge.

Kotallo looked past him to look out the door, the dark surroundings glowing with faint light from torches, regretting that he hadn't slept a wink. "Leaving before dawn?"

"Kopilai's orders," Inatut said with a shrug.

Another ball of shame dropped to his stomach, joining the first. In truth, Kotallo had forgotten all about the Banuk and Kopilai's offer to delay their departure for him. "Thank you for notifying me," he said, removing his hand from his head and propping himself off his back with his elbow. He pushed through the waves of stinging pain shooting up his torso until he was finally sitting up, and his feet were touching the ground.

Inatut frowned, reaching out to offer his hand. "I came to say goodbye, not to fetch you."

"I would like to say goodbye to the rest of your werak," Kotallo rasped, breathless from the effort. He grasped Inatut's proffered hand, and pulled himself up on his feet. Stars flashed behind his eyes as another round of pain coursed through him. 

"Easy, brother."

Kotallo sighed, letting go of Inatut’s hand to pat his shoulder in thanks, and jerked his head towards the door. "Come."

Arching his brow, Inatut followed him outside, pulling the door shut as he appraised Kotallo's bare torso with narrowed eyes. "It is still cold. Not even going to put on your armor?"

"I'm of the Sky Clan of the Tenakth. We don't fear the cold," Kotallo said, turning away to hide his smirk, knowing Inatut would take the statement as a challenge. Truthfully, he didn't want to go through the trouble of putting it on. He’d have to do it slowly, and he didn’t want to be the cause of any further delays. The air here was not even half as cold compared to the biting temperatures up on the Sheerside Mountains in Sky territory, but it was cold enough to make Kotallo's skin prickle. 

He would take this over the dry heat of the desert any day.

Clicking his tongue, Inatut stood up straighter as they walked, and frowned at Kotallo. "Goading me into a challenge? I would take you up on it, if we weren't leaving today."

"Then be thankful you won't know what it's like to lose to me a second time," Kotallo said with a grin.

Inatut laughed and swung his left arm roughly over Kotallo's shoulders, making him grunt, anticipating a flash of pain, but thankful that it didn’t come. "Ah, I will miss you. It has been an honor, truly," Intatut said, before his face turned serious. "Seeing what the world had to offer has been a joy, but the spoils of the hunt have been light, and hunting here is too relaxing. Nothing like Banuk lands."

From above, Kotallo could see that others have woken up as well to bid farewell to their Banuk friends. He couldn’t help but scan the area as he and Inatut slowly walked down, looking for Aloy, a confusing blend of hope and dread at the prospect of speaking to her so soon churning his stomach.

But she was nowhere to be found, and he didn’t know whether to be thankful or disappointed. Kotallo turned back to Inatut. “I understand. A warrior’s skill melts like ice.”

“Ah, but I wouldn’t have let it, even if we were to stay here. It’ll be a thousand winters before I ever let my song be forgotten,” Inatut said, then shrugged. “But I go where my chieftain tells me.”

“Have you no desire to lead your own werak?”

Inatut hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head to the side. “Survival is what’s important to our tribe, but I would be lying if I said that chieftains are chosen based solely on that. I’m not good with politics,” he said with a grimace, removing his arm from Kotallo’s shoulders and raising his fists. “I’m better with decisions like ‘Do I start with the left, or the right?’”

Kotallo frowned at him. “There is more to you than your fists, Inatut. Much more than just the strength of your body.”

Inatut shrugged again, then nodded his head forward to where Kopilai was standing with her arms crossed. “So Kopilai tells me. But I know that I’m far from ready.” He scratched his cheek, watching his chieftain approach, before grinning at Kotallo and thumping him on the back, making Kotallo flinch. “But who knows? Perhaps I’ll be chieftain instead of Kopilai soon.”

“All hunters should aspire to lead, but it will be a long time before you can challenge me for control of the werak,” Kopilai said, arching a brow.

Inatut chuckled and pointed to his black eye. “If this is any indication,” he said, before he turned back to Kotallo and held out his hand. “As I’ve said: it’s been an honor.”

Kotallo smiled and clasped Inatut’s forearm. “Yes, it has. May your path lead you to honor evermore.”

“And may your song echo for a hundred years,” Inatut said with a grin. He released Kotallo’s forearm and stepped back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Kotallo watched as Inatut walked away and sat down next to Aluki, muttering to herself as she looked at the ground sadly. “What did he do to earn your ire?”

“He challenged my decision to return to Ban-Ur. I suspect he did so because of Aluki,” Kopilai said with a sigh. “She believes that the long hunt is over.”

“The long hunt never truly ends.”

Kopilai barked out a laugh and smiled at him approvingly. “You understand.”

Kotallo smirked, then hummed as a thought occurred to him. “How are you certain you’ve made the right decision?”

She raised her eyebrows and said, “That’s a good question.” Turning to look back at Inatut and Aluki, Kopilai crossed her arms. Kotallo waited for her to speak, curious as to what she would say. She looked up at him after a moment. “Oftentimes, the right decision is the hardest and most painful choice. But only with time will I know for certain if I’ve made the right one.”

Kotallo frowned, turning her words over in his mind. It didn’t make much sense to him and there was a part of him that thought that it couldn’t be as simple as that. He was about to say so, when Kopilai’s expression stopped him. She was looking at him pensively, her lips pressed together. “What is it?” he asked when she stayed silent.

Kopilai huffed, then shook her head. “Goodbye, Kotallo.”

He offered her a small smile. “Perhaps our paths will cross again.”

“Perhaps,” Kopilai said. She took a step back, then swept her gaze over Kotallo’s form, her eyes pausing over his bare torso. “Until then, your song will keep me company.”

Kotallo’s forehead creased, feeling as if there was a deeper meaning to her words. He nodded anyway. “Strike true on your travels,” he said, then turned to face her fully. “And, Kopilai, you have my thanks. You did not need to stay, but you did. I won’t forget.”

Kopilai huffed again, making Kotallo feel even more like he missed the punchline of a joke. She stared at him for a moment, before turning away from him and signaling to the rest of her werak. Kotallo clasped forearms with her other fighters as they passed him and he returned Inatut’s raised hand in goodbye. 

He followed them until he reached the arch and watched them leave until they vanished in the distance. Kotallo stayed out there in the cold, his hand clenched in a fist, allowing himself a moment to wallow in envy that they were going home, and longing for his own.

It was still dark, but the sky had brightened enough that some of the Oseram workers were already outside when Kotallo headed back to the lodge, his heart still heavy. He found Zo sitting on one of the stools next to one of the larger tables inside, sipping from a cup. 

Her eyebrows leapt as he closed the door. “You went outside without your armor?”

Kotallo nodded and scanned her face. Zo looked as she did last night. As if, like him, she hadn’t slept, either. "Where is Varl?" he asked as he carefully bent his knees, lowering himself enough to pick up one of the stools, then walked over to Zo and dropped the stool on the other side of the table, close enough now to smell the scent of ginger wafting from her cup. 

"He and Aloy went hunting."

Kotallo hummed, then gestured to her cup. “Nausea?” he asked.

She pursed her lips as she looked away, but nodded after a moment. Kotallo licked his lips as he sat, hesitating to ask the question on his mind last night. From how Varl acted the night before, it didn’t seem as if Zo had already told him. 

“I would congratulate you,” he said softly, “but you do not seem…happy.”

For a moment, Zo just blinked at him. Kotallo waited silently, giving her a chance to deny it, if that’s what she wanted. He sensed that she needed someone to talk to, but wouldn’t be surprised if she refused to talk about it with him. She might just be waiting for the right time to tell Varl. But then she sighed and looked down, crossing both of her arms over her stomach, curling in on herself. “It was no accident. We both want to start a family. I’m just…”

Kotallo continued to look at her silently, patiently waiting to see if she would say more. If she didn’t, he would have to think about what he could say, though he doubted anything he thought of would be comforting. If anyone could comfort Zo or assuage the fears she obviously had, it would be Varl. 

Zo sighed again. “We’re in the middle of a war. A war that—” she waved her hand over to where Erand sat the night before, “—apparently, we’re no close to winning. We’re bringing life into this world, and it didn’t even occur to us that it isn’t safe. That none of us are safe.” Placing her elbows on top of the table, Zo leaned into her hands and rubbed her temples. She looked up at Kotallo, her eyes shining. “Why didn’t we wait for the right time, Kotallo?”

He frowned, still unsure of what to say but feeling cornered into sharing his thoughts by the way Zo was looking at him expectantly. “The right time might never come, Zo,” he said, shrugging. “But why should that stop us from…pursuing that which will make us happy?”

Zo blew out a breath, her forehead slowly creasing, and Kotallo was suddenly afraid that he had said the wrong thing. But then she straightened and pinned him with a hard stare. “Will you grant me a favor?”

He hesitated, almost certain of what Zo was going to ask him. “I don’t believe that I am the best choice for—”

“Not that,” she interjected, shaking her head as a small smile finally appeared on her face. “Not that I agree that you would not be the best choice. But what I need now is for you to distract me from my thoughts. Let us talk about something else.”

“Alright,” Kotallo said as he scratched his head. “Would you like to hear about the legend of the Bonewhite Tear?”

Zo closed her eyes, shaking her head again as she took a deep breath. “No, I do not want to hear about the legend of the Bonewhite Tear. I want to hear about what happened between you and Aloy.”

Kotallo stiffened immediately. “Nothing happened.”

His eyebrows leapt, surprised when she scowled at him. He had never seen Zo make that face before. “From what I heard from our veterans, the Tenakth are very straightforward when it comes to courtship,” she said.

He laughed bitterly. “Courtship,” Kotallo repeated, unable to keep the derisive tone from his voice, though the idea of formally courting Aloy made his mouth dry. “If Aloy were Tenakth, she’d be insulted just from the thought of being courted by me.”

Zo’s gaze softened, her shoulders sagging a fraction. Kotallo huffed, frowning as he looked away from her. “Aloy isn’t Tenakth.”

“No, she’s a Nora.”

“You know as well as I that she doesn’t consider herself Nora, either.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I don’t—,” Kotallo clenched his jaw. He ran his hand through his hair, wondering if he should continue his line of thought. Zo was worried about the outcome of this war, but at least she had something to look forward to when it was over. She could go home to Plainsong, or choose to go with Varl back to the Nora Sacred Lands. Whereas he had nothing. 

He didn’t have a home he could offer her.

Kotallo swallowed, pushing the thought away as soon as it entered his mind, refusing to dwell on it now. “It does not matter,” he said finally, not knowing how to express his thoughts without risking saying anything that might upset Zo. “I don't even know if we want the same thing.”

“You’ll never know unless you speak to her.” 

“I intend to speak with her when she returns,” Kotallo murmured, his heart racing at the thought. 

Zo brightened. “That’s good, Kotallo.”

“I do not even know what to say to her, yet.”

“I’m certain it’ll come to you,” Zo said. She put her head on her hands again, staring down at the table, her face growing more and more determined. Finally, she straightened and gave him a nod. “You are right. And anyway, storms make trees take deeper roots. I will speak to Varl as well, as soon as he returns.” 

Despite himself, Kotallo smiled, shaking his head at the tree metaphor that he didn’t quite understand. “It wasn’t my intention to force you to speak to him.”

“You didn’t force me,” Zo said, taking a deep breath, as if to brace herself. “If you can be brave, then I can be too.” She stood up, then, and lifted her cup from the table. “They won’t return until much later. Why don’t you rest?”

Placing his hand on the table to steady himself, Kotallo stood from the stool with a grunt, and turned around to look at the cot he used last night. He frowned, brushing his hand over the bandage wrapped around his torso, thinking of how much he wanted to do anything else but lie down again. He wanted to hunt machines, or train, or do anything that would help keep his mind off of Aloy, even just for a little while. “How long must I rest?”

“Until your ribs heal?” Zo said, a knowing smile on her face. “It should stop swelling in two or three days, but bruised ribs like yours usually take four to six weeks to heal.”

Four to six weeks of doing nothing? Kotallo bit back a curse. “I suppose I have no choice, then." 

Zo lay her hand on Kotallo’s left shoulder to push him gently towards the cot, but withdrew it swiftly when he flinched. He grimaced, an apology already on the tip of his tongue, but she shook her head and merely smiled. “Go on. You look as if you’re ready to fall to the floor. I will see you later.” 

Kotallo huffed as Zo turned away. She opened the door and walked out, the sounds of clanging metals and chatter filling the room from outside. The rest of the settlement was already awake, but he was forced to stay inside and rest. Before she closed the door, Zo turned back to him, arching a delicate brow as if she could read his thoughts. “Go to sleep, Kotallo.”

Sighing in defeat, he walked to the cot, and gingerly lay down, his arm supporting his weight until his back was flat. Pursing his lips, he stared up at the cobwebbed ceiling as he was doing before Inatut arrived, and hoped that, this time, his mind would finally let him sleep.

Kotallo woke up gasping, his hand instantly darting to his side, memories of a familiar nightmare quickly fading as his thoughts were violently pulled to the throbbing in his ribs. He groaned as he settled back against the cot, realizing that he must’ve twitched in his sleep. Blinking rapidly, he lifted his head, sighing in relief when he found the lodge as empty as it had been when he had finally succumbed to exhaustion.

Nightmares had become a rarity lately, since coming to Pitchcliff, for which Kotallo was grateful. But it wouldn’t do to startle anyone with his shouts. Resolving to sleep in his own bed tonight, he pushed himself up slowly from the cot with his elbow, the tilted angle almost making him stumble. He paused, took a few breaths, and pushed himself up all the way until he was sitting. 

Four to six weeks of this. Kotallo clicked his tongue and grabbed his armor from the table next to him, grimacing at the feel of dust clinging to his fingers. He wondered how he was going to wash his armor, then remembered he would need to wash himself, too. 

Urging himself to worry about it later, Kotallo stood from the cot slowly and made his way to the door. First, he was going to find Erend and see if his Oseram friend had any clothes he could borrow. 

Kotallo stepped out of the lodge, his hand reaching up to shield his eyes as he squinted against the blinding light. He kept his hand above his eyes as they adjusted, nodding to people as they passed him by, before frowning up at the clear afternoon sky. It looked like he hadn’t slept long. 

The sound of rowdy cheers startled him into looking to the right, where the dining area was, and saw Erend’s back leaning against the balustrade, raising a stein in the air with one hand, while his other arm was looped around Varl’s shoulders. Smiling to himself, Kotallo walked up the short way and climbed the stairs, reminding himself to act surprised. It was not uncommon for the Oseram to be drinking this early. But it seemed as if everyone was there, even the Carja, holding steins of ale of their own, smiles brightening their faces. Well, almost everyone. Where was Aloy?

Varl’s smile was the brightest, his lips stretching wide into a grin as he raised his own stein in the air, bringing about another round of cheers. “I’m gonna be a father!” he slurred. 

Spotting Zo at the far end of the corner, Kotallo navigated through the crowd as he walked over to her, shielding his left side with his hand. She smiled when she spotted him, shrugging her delicate shoulders, looking far better than she had when they last spoke. 

“Congratulations,” he said, leaning against the balustrade next to a wall of rock, but pushing himself off immediately when it put too much pressure on his back. 

Zo huffed, shaking her head. “Thank you for convincing me to tell him.”

“You convinced yourself.”

“Perhaps,” she said, looking away from him to stare at Varl from afar. “But our talk helped. It helped me.” Then she chuckled. “When I told him earlier, he said he already suspected, but waited for me to tell him myself.”

“I’m not surprised that he knew,” Kotallo said, watching as Varl and Erend began making their way over to them. “The Nora place a high importance on birth and motherhood, do they not?”

“That they do.”

Kotallo hummed, but said nothing further as Erend pushed his stein towards Kotallo’s chest. “Here, buddy, I’ll get another one for myself later.” He frowned at Kotallo. “Where’s your shirt?”

“I—”

“Nevermind that,” Varl said, his voice loud as he waved his stein, spilling some ale on the ground. “Kotallo, I’m gonna be a father!”

“Congratulations,” Kotallo said again, warmth wriggling in his chest, genuinely happy for his friends. “May your child grow to be as wise and strong as you and Zo. You will make excellent parents.”

Tears welled in Varl’s eyes, his face pinched as he turned to look at Zo, before reaching out to place a palm on her belly. “Goddess, I hope so,” he said, his voice cracking at the end.

“Okay, Varl, I think that’s enough for you,” Erend said as he gently pried Varl’s stein from his other hand. 

Zo chuckled. “Yes, let’s get you to bed.”

Varl’s arms went around her, sighing as he nuzzled the top of her head. “I’m okay,” he breathed. “Just happy.”

They held each other quietly, murmuring to each other, oblivious to their surroundings, when Erend nudged Kotallo with his elbow. “I don’t know how it is over in the west, buddy, but you can’t just walk around shirtless.” Kotallo arched his brow at him, then jerked his head to the side where an Oseram man was sitting and drinking ale, wearing nothing but high-waisted pants with a leather tassets, and nothing on top except for a leather helmet with large ear flaps that reached his bare shoulders. Erend waved his hand dismissively. “He’s been working the forges, buddy, that doesn’t count.”

“Truthfully, my armor needs cleaning, and I don’t have any spares to wear,” Kotallo admitted. 

“Well, why didn’t you say so? Come on, I’ve got plenty of shirts,” Erend said, before gesturing to Kotallo’s pants. “Looks like you need those cleaned, too. I’ve got extra pants, but they’re probably gonna be a bit loose in the middle.”

“You have my thanks.”

They turned to Varl and Zo to excuse themselves, promising that they would return, before weaving through the crowd again. “Don’t think it’s a good idea to bathe in the waterfall in your state,” Erend said to him as they climbed down the stairs. “Don’t see why you don’t just use the bathrooms. Make use of the hot water.”

Kotallo glanced to the side, at the waterfall he usually bathed in, eyeing the slippery rocks with a frown. “I will, while I’m still healing.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you slipping and hurting yourself more.” 

Kotallo grabbed his towel when they went inside their room as Erend rummaged through his storage chest. He threw an ochre-colored linen shirt on his bed, then a thick pair of pants that might’ve been a dark blue but had faded to a dark purplish color. “I think those’ll fit you,” Erend muttered to himself, before rummaging some more. “Aha! If the pants are a bit loose, you can just use this belt,” he said, holding a dark brown leather tassets with a belt that had a large circular metal buckle. 

“Thank you,” Kotallo said as he gathered the items in a pile on Erend’s bed to easily carry. “I will return these once I’ve cleaned my armor.”

“You can get your armor cleaned, you know? You don’t have to do it yourself,” Erend said. “Aloy’s getting hers cleaned. I’m actually surprised the armor I got her is still intact. Not exactly the best armor for fighting thunderjaws.”

Kotallo paused, the idea of having someone else who was not a squadmate clean or maintain his armor or weapons for him did not appeal to him, but they would certainly do… perhaps not a better job than him, but they would certainly be more efficient. His eyes wandered over to Erend, and he wondered how the Oseram would react if he knew what had transpired between him and Aloy yesterday, if he would still be as friendly to Kotallo as he was now. “Has Aloy not returned from her hunt?”

Erend shrugged. “I don’t think so. I haven’t seen her today.”

A horrible thought occurred to him: would Aloy even return? 

Of course, she would, Kotallo immediately thought after. If this had happened earlier on in their acquaintance, perhaps she would have run off. He’d heard stories from Varl and Zo, and even Erend, that she used to leave without so much as a goodbye, not even an explanation of where she was going or what she was going to do. But he didn’t believe that she would do that now. 

Or would she?

“Hey, buddy, I’m gonna go back and see if Zo needs any help with Varl, okay?”

“Alright,” Kotallo said, blinking a few times as an attempt to stay in the moment. “Thank you again for these.”

Erend smiled and waved his hand. “Don’t mention it.”

Alone now in the room, Kotallo looked at his bed, feeling the urge to lie down and go back to sleep. But he wasn’t one to procrastinate, and he didn’t want to dirty the bed. He bent down to pick up the pile of clothes, left the room, and headed to the baths. 

Kotallo ran his hand through his damp hair as he exited the baths, feeling invigorated as he soaked in the heat from the sun, though he felt as if his face was being pulled taut as his paint dried on his skin. His borrowed clothes fit well enough, though the linen shirt was a bit tight around his chest, and the belt helped to ensure that the pants didn’t suddenly fall off, but he had been in the east long enough that he should have his own armor. 

He technically still had his Marshal armor, sitting on the foot of his bed where he’d left it in the satchel when Aloy returned it to him. But it would be a waste of shards to have someone fix it just because he was sentimental. Besides, the Oseram used a lot of metals and leather for their armor, and he doubted that they would be able to fix armor mostly made of bamboo weaves. 

Kotallo walked down the wooden path, stepping to the side to make way for carts to pass, before turning right to where Foran's emporium used to be. He had expected another merchant in silks to have replaced the former quartermaster, but was surprised to see Varga, decked out in leather armor and a wide belt cinched at the waist, hammering away at a sword that lay on an anvil. She looked up when she noticed him and dunked the sword in a bucket of water next to her. 

“Kotallo, hey, I heard you were back,” she said, smiling at him as she took off her gloves.

“You look ready for battle,” Kotallo said, returning her smile, gesturing to her armor. “Are you the new quartermaster?”

Varga beamed, her cheeks flushing as she put her hands on her hips. “Technically, my dad’s the new quartermaster. I’m just his assistant,” she said, before waving her hands down at herself. “And what better way to advertise our wares than to wear them?”

“I’m glad that Burgrend has decided to let you assist him. I presume your prototypes helped him see the error of his ways.”

“Oh, it definitely helped,” Varga said. She nodded to the pile in his arm, then tapped the wooden table in front of her. “Need your armor cleaned?”

Kotallo huffed, placing the pile on the table. “Perceptive of you.”

Varga lifted his Banuk top, turning it over as she examined it. “It was pretty obvious. And Aloy went with you, right? She had her armor cleaned this morning,” she said, jerking her head to the side. Kotallo tilted his head to look behind her and saw that Aloy’s armor was indeed there, the leathers had been cleaned of the dirt and had a slight sheen. 

“She has not come back to fetch it?”

Varga shook her head. “No, not yet. This part’s cracked, but I can fix it,” she said as she lay his leather armor back on the table.

Kotallo took out his shard pouch from his pocket. “I have some shards and machine pa—”

She held up a hand in front of her. “No, no, no, no. Put that away.”

“Your father might find out,” he said, arching his brow.

“We wouldn’t even have made it here, if it weren’t for you,” Varga said, then grimaced. “Not that here is such a great place for women.”

He knew immediately what she meant. The Oseram were a patriarchal tribe, Erend had told him, and their women were often treated like property. “Your tribe can learn a thing or two from the Tenakth, or even the Banuk.”

Varga sighed. “Yeah, that’s why pops and I are heading up to Banuk lands once it’s safer. See if we can establish a trade route.”

“I thought you said the Banuk only want boring old bows and spears?”

“That was before I heard about the Icerail,” Varga said, waving her hands excitedly. “It’s a spear owned by one of the chieftains. And it shoots ice! Oooh, what I wouldn’t give to poke around inside it.”

“Assuming the chieftain will let you,” Kotallo said, chuckling when Varga frowned at him. He tapped his armor on the table. “Thank you for doing this for me, Varga.” He paused, glancing again at Aloy’s armor behind her. “If you see Aloy, will you let her know I’m looking for her?”

“Sure thing!”

“Thank you,” he said as he nodded, turning around to leave, looking up at the endless sky. This day was dragging on for far too long, yet still he hadn’t spoken to Aloy. 

Kotallo spent the rest of the day whiling away time. He went back up to the dining area to continue to celebrate with his friends, accepting the steins of ale Erend handed to him. When Varl finally needed to be put to bed an hour later, he searched for other things to do. He spoke with Guhil, asked him how he was faring, and was pleased to hear that no one else had bothered him and that some of the Oseram had even become pleasant towards him. Kotallo went down to the tents next where some of the other Carja still stayed, and checked in on them as well. He watched as Vashad and Omas constructed traps, telling him that they were glad Burgrend was the new quartermaster, though they sported matching guilty expressions, assuring him that it wasn’t the same as being pleased that Foran was gone. 

When Kotallo had run out of things to do and people to talk to, he considered going back to bed. The Ten knew he still lacked sleep, but he was restless, eager to get the day over with, but not before speaking to Aloy.

Where was she? 

The sun began to cast long shadows on the ground, and Kotallo began to worry again that perhaps Aloy had run off after all. He walked outside, and leaned against the arch, turning his head towards the north, then to the south, hoping Aloy would finally appear.

The clanging of hammers against metal and the grinding of gears eventually stopped, and so did the creaking of the mill. The Oseram workers trudged up further inside the settlement, grumbling about their day, as they were wont to do. The silence was deafening, and another horrible thought occurred to Kotallo. 

Was it possible that Aloy had gone to Cauldron Zeta without him?

Kotallo racked his mind, trying to remember his conversations with Aloy about the Cauldron. The first time he told her he’d accompany her, he said he would do so after they successfully relocated to Pitchcliff. But that had been over a week ago. Had she grown impatient?

Flicking his hair out of his face, Kotallo turned around to head back in, reluctantly deciding to just wait for tomorrow, when he spotted Aloy approaching from the north, a satchel over her shoulder, the moonlight dulling the brightness of her hair. He wrapped his hand around his throat, regretting that he hadn’t had anything to drink in the last couple of hours. His pulse was thumping against his fingers, the persistent taps going faster and faster, until he could hear his heart beating in his ears. 

Kotallo dropped his hand and straightened as Aloy started going up the winding path to where he was standing. She was looking at the ground as she walked, her hair spilling over her bare shoulders, her heavy boots crunching the snow beneath her. As she grew closer, Kotallo realized that she was wearing new armor, possibly something she’d gotten from Varga. It was clearly Oseram of make, with fingerless gloves connected to leather vambraces, ring-locked tassets, and a cropped leather top that had strips of metal stitched to the front. 

It was only when his shadow fell on her that Aloy looked up, her eyes widening. Kotallo swallowed, clenching his hand into a fist by his side. “Aloy. Well met,” he said, grateful that his voice hadn’t cracked.

“Kotallo,” Aloy said, walking up towards him slowly, her eyes still wide, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “You’re still here.”

He frowned, stepping back and to the side to give her room to pass. “Of course. Where did you expect me to be?”

Adjusting the strap of the satchel on her shoulder, Aloy shrugged as she walked through the arch, Kotallo falling into step beside her. “I thought maybe you’d go with the Banuk,” she said quietly.

He raised his eyebrows, surprised that she’d thought that. “Zo told me that bruised ribs do not heal quickly. I would have only slowed them down.” 

Aloy stopped in her tracks, blowing out a breath, shaking her head slightly. It was only when he peered at her face and saw the clench of her jaw and the fire blazing in her eyes that he realized that he’d said the wrong thing. She began to walk again, faster this time, her eyes straight ahead. “You could always catch up with them,” she said through gritted teeth.

Thankful that the path was mostly empty, save for a few guards at their usual posts, Kotallo lagged slightly behind her, his ribs protesting on the way up. “I have no desire to.” She turned left, but stopped again when she saw that it was empty, her shoulders drooping. Varga and her father had already left and their wares had been packed away. “It’s late. They are probably having dinner.”

“Right. Right, okay,” Aloy said, nodding her head, still refusing to look at him. She brought out her satchel and took out her waterskin, then marched ahead. At first, he thought she was heading to the dining area, but she turned left before they reached the stairs, and set her satchel down next to the well where they gathered the water from the falls. 

Putting his hand on his hip, Kotallo looked down at his feet, forcing himself to breathe evenly through the pounding of his heart. “Aloy,” he said as he straightened. “We must speak.”

She shrugged, then threw her head back, putting the waterskin to her lips. He waited for her to turn around to look at him, but it seemed as if she was determined to empty the whole thing. He sighed. “Aloy, if I’ve offended you—”

“Offended me?” she said, whipping around to finally look at him. “What are you talking about?”

Here we go. “When I kissed you,” he said, digging his nails against his leather belt. “Yesterday.”

Aloy blinked at him, her chest rising and falling as she breathed hard through her parted lips. She set down her waterskin, breaking eye contact for a moment, before looking back at him again. “I’m the one who kissed you. Was it—Did I offend you?”

Kotallo scoffed, stepping towards her until she was within arm’s reach. “No, that’s not what I—”

“Was it so terrible, then?” she asked, her eyes narrowed as if to challenge him. He stared at her, taking in the lowered tilt of her head and the stiffness of her shoulders, and somehow he just knew that she was, perhaps, just as afraid as he was.

He stepped towards her again, dropping his hand so that it fell limply on his side. “It was—,” he paused, feeling his voice shake. He cleared his throat. “It was wonderful.”

Her shoulders relaxed immediately. “It was?”

Kotallo nodded, his heart beat even faster as her eyes darted to his mouth. He wanted to kiss her, and with the way she was looking at him now—her bright eyes darkening with ill-disguised heat—he was almost certain that she wanted him to. But he had to tell her first. He had to—

All thoughts flew from his mind as Aloy raised her left hand slowly, telegraphing her movements, her fingers hovering close to his cheek. He took her hand in his and pressed his face against her gloved palm, before placing a gentle kiss on her thumb, the sharp intake of her breath reminding him of the beautiful sounds she made when they kissed yesterday.

“I want to kiss you again,” he murmured, unable to think through the haze of want that swiftly overtook his mind. 

Aloy chuckled breathlessly, her other hand sliding up his shoulder. “I thought you were still hurt.”

“I am,” he breathed, leaning in and placing his hand on her hip, his thumb brushing the skin above her belt.

“Okay.” She brushed her nose against his. “I’ll be careful.”

Kotallo breathed in, before gliding his lips over hers, savoring the sweetness of her breath. Her left hand traveled from his shoulder up to his neck, until she was burying her fingers in his hair. He shivered, heat pulsing low in his belly, but he urged himself to keep the kiss light. He didn’t want this to end as quickly as it did yesterday. 

But her fingers tightened in his hair, her blunt nails scratching his scalp, and he couldn’t help but groan against her mouth, slanting his head to deepen the kiss. He wrapped his arm around her waist as he did yesterday, and pulled her closer, as close as the large buckles on both of their belts allowed them. Aloy moaned, then whined, before breaking the kiss, looking at him with an annoyed expression on her face.

“What is it?” he asked, stroking the small of her back with his fingers. 

Aloy sighed. “You’re too tall. My neck’s starting to hurt.” Kotallo grinned, pressing his forehead against hers as he chuckled. She chuckled as well, then pinched his earlobe. “Stop laughing.”

“I’m not laughing at you, I’m—,” he hesitated, leaning away slightly to gaze into her eyes as he examined the weight in his chest that was making him light-headed. When he realized what it was, he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers again, a lump forming in his throat.

Against all odds, even after he’d lost his arm, even after he’d been exiled from his home…he was happy.

“Kotallo,” Aloy whispered, tugging at his earlobe. 

He swallowed, then hummed, keeping his eyes closed. “What is it?”

“Kiss me again.”

He bit back a groan. “I thought your neck was hurting,” he said instead, chuckling when he heard her click her tongue, knowing for certain that she had also rolled her eyes. He leaned away from her and removed his hand from her waist to pat the top of the stone well behind her. “Sit here.” 

Aloy looked at his hand, then placed her hands on either side of her on top of the stone. She went on her toes, and pushed herself up with her arms until she was sitting, her feet dangling off the ground. She was high enough now that Kotallo had to tilt his head up slightly to look at her. “Better?” he asked.

“Much,” she said, reaching towards him to place her hands on his shoulders. She spread her knees and pulled him close. He swallowed, feeling his cock stirring to life in his pants as he settled in between her legs, her thighs spreading wider, mindful of putting any pressure on his waist. She buried her fingers in his hair again and smiled. “Do you need me to tie your hair?” she whispered.

“Later,” he said as he placed his hand on her thigh, feeling his heart swell with longing. “Kiss me, Aloy. Please.”

Her eyes widened, but she nodded, and leaned down to bring their lips together.

Just one last kiss, Kotallo thought, closing his eyes as he tasted the warmth of her tongue. One last kiss. Then I’ll tell her.

Chapter Text

Kotallo sighed as he bent his head forward, soothed by the gentle fingers on his nape. The burbling waterfall was hypnotic, the sloshing of water as it flowed to the wells like a lullaby. His eyes slid closed, his shoulders sagging as he released another sigh. 

“Hey!”

His eyes snapped open, his hand twitching on his thigh as he straightened. “What is it?”

Aloy hummed behind him, before leaning forward over his left shoulder, her hair and the wooden beads she wore with her Nora armor brushing against his bare back as she peered at him with narrowed eyes. “You were falling asleep, weren’t you?” 

Kotallo chuckled. “I was, yes.”

“You’re gonna make me mess up your hair.”

“I’m sorry,” he said as he straightened his back. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling, though he struggled to look properly contrite. “Please, continue.”

She hummed again, then poked his cheek with a finger, before straightening and pushing his head down more. “I don’t want to accidentally nick you,” she said, gliding the blade down the back of his head, the falling hairs tickling his nape. “So don’t move.”

He swallowed and pressed his lips together to stop the yawn that threatened to escape. “I will do my best,” he said, blinking hard against the drowsiness. 

“Okay, just—,” Aloy paused, brushing away the stray hairs on his back. “Okay, now I’m done.”

Kotallo stood up from the stool he took out from his and Erend’s room, and stretched his back, his movements only slightly hindered by the stiffness around his torso. He walked over to the well and leaned forward to stare at his reflection, running a hand through the top of his head, before tracing the patterns with his finger. “You’ve gotten better at this. The first time you shaved my head, this part was slightly—”

He whipped his head around at the sound of riotous laughter bouncing off against the stones as a group of Oseram workers climbed down the steps, each holding steins of ale. How the Oseram could stomach alcohol so early in the morning still bewildered him. Kotallo looked back at the well, running his hand through the top of his head one last time, before turning back to Aloy, stopping short at her heated gaze.

She stepped backwards, clutching his armor in her hands, edging towards the shadows until her back hit the stone wall behind her. He looked back up at her face, the familiar warmth flooding his chest at the sight of Aloy biting her lower lip, but also a feeling of wonder and of disbelief. 

It had been three weeks since that night they were here, in this same spot, kissing by the well. They had shared many kisses since then, some more heated than others, and he still struggled to believe that Aloy liked kissing him. He didn’t even have a top on, and his stump was in plain sight, though the worst of it was still covered by linen.

Kotallo walked up to her, inhaling sharply as her eyes dropped to his bare torso, before sliding back up to his chest, then up to his face. He placed his hand on the wall next to her head, the temptation to press against her—to feel her body meld with his—making him light-headed. The only thing stopping him from doing so was the insistent voice in his head.

You haven’t even told her yet. You don’t know what she wants.

“You’re going to get hair all over me,” Aloy whispered, her breath fanning across his collarbones as she brushed her right hand up over his shoulder until her fingers were touching the side of his neck. 

He leaned forward to nuzzle her temple, and breathed in the wonderful fragrance of her hair. “Do you mind?” he asked, his nose brushing against the shell of her ear, his blood buzzing when she shivered and tightened her hold on his shoulder. Aloy pressed her nails on his skin and turned her head to glare at him. He raised his eyebrows. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

She clicked her tongue. “Just kiss me already.”

Kotallo smirked. “You want me to kiss you?” He removed his hand from the wall and placed it on her hip, squeezing lightly as he brushed his lips across her cheek, unable to resist the urge to tease her. “There.”

Aloy laughed and reached up to tug his locks. “Stop teasing me, you ass.”

He chuckled, then pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss. “Is that better?”

“Kotallo,” she said, frowning up at him, still tugging his locks. 

The buzz became a roar that rushed through his ears at the way her voice curled sweetly around his name. “Tell me,” he said, squeezing her hip again. “Use your words, Aloy.”

She rolled her eyes. “I want you to kiss m—”

He cut her off, sealing his lips over hers, groaning against her mouth when she eagerly licked his tongue. His heart fluttered, giving in to the desire simmering in his belly and pressing closer to her. Wanting more of her, he slid his hand up her waist, lamenting that she was wearing her Nora armor, his hand touching the soft fabric instead of her smooth, warm skin. 

She arched her back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. What he wouldn’t give to have both of his arms right now so that he could touch more of her, to hold her more tightly against him, just as Aloy was doing now. 

He kissed her harder, nipping lower lip, his cock pulsing at the beautiful sound she made, her nails digging into the back of his neck. He stroked her waist restlessly, before sliding his hand further up, slipping under her cropped outer top, until his thumb touched the underside of her breast. 

Aloy flinched, and he swiftly removed his hand, placing it instead on her cheek. "I'm sorry, I—," Kotallo paused, staring at her wide eyes, looking up at him with a dazed expression on her face. But her eyebrows were drawn, as if she was confused. 

She cleared her throat, dropping her gaze as she unwrapped her arms from his shoulders. "I better go," she said, lifting her hand, holding his armor between them. "I, uh, promised Varga I'd get some machine cores for her."

“Alright,” Kotallo said as he encased her hand in his, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb, an apology still stuck in his throat. “Strike true out there.”

She nodded, her eyes still averted as she let go of his armor and slipped her hand from his. “I’ll, uh, see you later.”

Kotallo watched her jog away with a heavy heart, growling and tapping the wall with his fist when she was out of earshot. He had scared Aloy away, frightened her with his desire for her. He glared at the offensive bulge tenting his pants and snorted, disappointed at his lack of self-control. How dare he be so eager to touch her the way he almost had when he hadn’t even mustered the courage to tell her how he really felt about her? 

He pulled a deep breath, pressing his forehead against stone. This wasn’t the first time he’d almost touched her inappropriately, barely able to pull himself back, having to break from her lips to keep himself from giving into temptation. Every single time it happened, he urged himself to tell her, but then Aloy would step back and talk about something else. And like a coward, Kotallo held onto the change of topic like a lifeline. 

He dragged in another breath and put his leather armor on, then stepped out from the shadows, an uneasy knotted feeling settling in his gut as he made his way up the dining area. He didn’t know whether to be afraid of the possibility that Aloy didn’t return his feelings, or of the possibility that she did return them, only to be disappointed by him or to realize that it was not worth being with him.

As he climbed up the stairs, Kotallo berated himself over and over again, and almost ran into an Oseram worker speeding down. When he reached the top, he saw Varl and Zo sitting together, their hands intertwined on top of the table. His heart twinged with envy as he walked over to the cook to get food, a fantasy of being affectionate with Aloy out in the open flashing in his mind.

“May I join you?” he asked when he reached their table, then placed his plate down in front of their joined hands as he sat on the bench opposite to them, ignoring the concerned looks they cast his way.

Zo tilted her head. “Is everything alright?”

“Fine,” Kotallo said, keeping his eyes on his meal as he wrapped his hand around the dough and bit into the savory meat. 

Varl hummed, obviously unconvinced. “Your paint’s smudged.”

“You’re right, it is smudged,” Zo said, her voice carrying a sly tone as she put her elbows on the table, resting her chin on top of her linked fingers.

Kotallo arched his brow at her. “I’m eating.”

“Uh, it was smudged before you even sat down,” Varl said. Then his eyes suddenly widened. He shot Zo a look, pointing at Kotallo, then said to him, “Did you and Aloy finally kiss?”

Zo unlinked her fingers to wrap her hand around Varl’s, pushing it down on the table. “Their first kiss was after they defeated the thunderjaw.”

Varl grinned. “I knew it! Oh, wait, but that means—,” he sighed, retrieving his hand from Zo’s to pull out his shard pouch, and placed a handful of shards on the table. Zo hummed, taking out her own pouch and started sliding the shards inside it. 

Kotallo glared at them both, but his eyes settled on Zo. “I never told you that.”

“No, you did not,” she said as she tucked her shard pouch away. She smiled at Kotallo serenely. “Aloy did.”

Varl huffed. “Well, if you spoke to Aloy, I guess that means she kissed Kotallo first. You said we wouldn’t meddle.”

“But I didn’t meddle,” Zo said. “She only confided in me last night.”

Kotallo dropped his food back on the plate, the unease he felt in his stomach roiling violently. “Last night?” he asked, wondering if Aloy had also revealed his shameful moments to her.

Zo frowned at him. “Yes, and now I want to know why you haven’t bared yourself to her yet when she obviously—”

“Zo—!” Varl hissed, his face flushed as he looked around to see if anyone was listening in, before leaning closer. “That's private. I don’t think Kotallo wants to talk to us about—,” he waved his hands vaguely in the air. 

Kotallo and Zo looked at each other, their eyebrows raised, identical smiles beginning to form. He looked away, coughing into his hand as Zo chuckled. She patted Varl’s hand again. “That’s not what I meant.”

“No?” Varl asked, frowning at both of them. “What did you mean, then?”

Gesturing to Zo, Kotallo picked his meal back up, nodding encouragingly at her when she tilted her head and put her hand on her chest. “Very well,” she said, then turned to Varl. “The Tenakth start to paint their faces as soon as they begin their training, as early as six-years old.”

Varl’s eyebrows leapt. “Six-years-old?”

Kotallo nodded, then gestured for Zo to continue as he chewed. “Yes, and they only allow the people that they trust to see them without their paint. Most of the time, they bare themselves to their squadmates, but they also bare themselves to the person they love.”

He nodded again as he lifted his meal back into his mouth, but stopped midway when he noticed Varl staring at him, his lips pressed in a firm line. Kotallo placed his meal back onto the plate and straightened, guessing why Varl had started to look serious. He didn’t need to say so, but Kotallo knew that Varl felt responsible for Aloy. Whether that was out of guilt for being part of the tribe that shunned her, or because he saw her as a younger sister, or perhaps both. 

“I love her,” he said quietly, before Varl could ask, surprised at himself for admitting it so openly. 

Varl hummed thoughtfully, before breaking out into a smile. “I don’t have to tell you that Aloy is one of the best fighters I’ve seen, so you better think twice before hurting her.”

“I have no intention of hurting her.”

“Then bare yourself already.”

“But you must ensure that she knows what it means first,” Zo added.

“She knows. I mentioned it to her when we were still at the Shattered Kiln,” Kotallo said, the thought of baring himself to Aloy bringing about another round of churning in his stomach. Varl and Zo leaned closer, looking at him expectantly. “Yes, I will tell her.” 

He sighed and rubbed his mouth, raising his eyebrows at Zo, wanting to change the subject. “I feel alright now. There hasn’t been any pain in my ribs for the past four days.”

“I believe you. You heal surprisingly fast, but see me immediately if you feel any pain tomorrow while you’re out hunting,” Zo said, her eyes moving distractedly to his right. “Good morning, Erend.”

Kotallo turned, and scooted over to make room for Erend. “I’m surprised to see you awake so early,” he said as Erend slumped down on the bench. 

“Meat in the Middle? Didn’t we have that yesterday?” Erend said, frowning down at Kotallo’s food. He scrunched up his face. “Ah, no, we had pot stomp yesterday.”

“Are you feeling sick?” Zo asked gently. 

Erend shook his head. “I’m alright. Think I had too much to drink last night.” 

Kotallo frowned, but stayed silent. Erend hadn’t been in their room when Kotallo returned last night, and Erend hadn’t been there either when he woke up this morning. He suspected that it had something to do with the rebellion, but Erend had stopped talking about the war after Varl and Zo announced that they were expecting. 

Zo stood up, followed closely by Varl, his hands hovering around her as if expecting her to fall. She frowned at him, but turned back to Erend. “Perhaps you need to eat something,” she said.

“Sure, yeah, I’ll get something to eat.”

“Good,” Zo said with a nod, then frowned again at Varl as they walked away. “Varl, I am not even showing yet. You don’t need to worry so much.”

Varl didn’t drop his hands. “Please let me worry.”

They watched as Varl took Zo’s hand as they climbed down the steps. When they disappeared from view, Erend rubbed his face and sighed. “That good?” he asked, gesturing to Kotallo’s plate.

“Yes. I’m certain they have more,” Kotallo said, jerking his head towards the cook. But Erend merely nodded, staring straight ahead at nothing. “What is troubling you?”

Erend sighed again, shaking his head slightly. He put his elbow on the table and leaned his temple on his fist, looking at Kotallo pensively with his lips pursed. After a moment, he shrugged. “It’s not looking good for us,” he said, almost too low for Kotallo to hear.

“Did the prototype not work?” Kotallo asked.

“Oh, it worked, but that just means we need more thunderjaw hearts,” Erend said, raising his eyebrows at Kotallo, hinting at what he thought about that idea. “But no, that’s not the problem. The problem is that we haven’t heard from Marad.”

“For how long?”

“Too long.”

Kotallo frowned. The Sun-King’s spymaster was the only one supplying the rebellion with information. “You believe he’s been killed?” 

“Think we might’ve heard by now if he was. No, I think he’s still alive. Locked up, maybe? We don’t know,” Erend said, wetting his lips, his eyes darting back and forth under furrowed brows. “And not knowing is killing us out there.” 

Erend fell silent, and a heavy feeling spanned Kotallo’s chest as he watched his friend’s worried expression. Then Erend clicked his tongue, shaking his head, and stood up. “Yeah, I think I’ll get something to eat. Want another one?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Kotallo stared at Erend’s back silently as he walked away, regretting that he had not been able to offer any kind of comfort to his friend. He scoffed as he looked back at his meal, lying cold now on his plate. As if there was anything that he could say that would help. He wasn’t even part of the rebellion, and he was not privy to the kind of information they had. 

Besides, what kind of help could a maimed exile offer that could turn the tide in a war against a powerful tribe?

Kotallo breathed in the cool, night air as his boots crunched snow, his heart swelling with satisfaction as he and Aloy walked back to Pitchcliff. This day was the first time in three weeks that he’d gone outside of the settlement, the first time in three weeks that he donned his armor that morning and held his spear with the intention of actually using it. They had done nothing but hunt all day, and fill their satchels with components. 

Kotallo looked to his right, only to find Aloy smiling at him. “Someone’s happy,” she said, her tone teasing. 

“You would be too, if you were forced to stay still for three weeks,” he said, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, feeling pleased with himself when her cheeks reddened. “Zo would have a difficult time convincing you to stay in bed.”

Aloy barked out a laugh. “Well, maybe if it was y—,” she stopped, pursing her lips as she looked away, the redness of her cheeks spreading out to the whole of her face. 

Kotallo stroked her ear, feeling the warmth seep into his fingers. “Maybe if it was, what?”

She raised her shoulder and tilted her head away from him to free her ear. “Nothing, nothing,” she said, her face still flushed, then pointed her finger ahead of them. “There they are. You said you wanted something more challenging.”

He frowned, wondering if he should press her, curious to know what she had been about to say, but his eagerness to sink his spear in something metal won out. He looked to the direction she was pointing at where two blue glowing lights circled around a tall mound of dirt with wooden beams spiked through it in a spiral, a couple of ravagers on patrol—the ones he and Kopilai had defeated had long been replaced. Kotallo blew out a breath as he rotated his neck, before rolling his shoulders and flexing his back. As he did so, he could feel Aloy’s eyes on him, scanning his form. Heat crept along his nape as he started to feel self-conscious. Was she—was she looking at his stump?

Kotallo glanced at her, but she swiftly looked away from him. He sighed. “Aloy, won’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”

She hesitated, glancing up at him as she chewed on her lip, turning it into a tempting red beacon. He distracted himself by simply staring as he waited for her to speak, dragging in a breath to keep himself from leaning down and kissing her. 

After a while, Aloy blew out a breath, her face determined. “I’ll tell you, but only if you beat me.”

“Are you challenging me?” he asked, a smile forming on his lips. When she nodded, his smile grew wider. “Very well, then. I accept.”

“You don’t even know what the challenge is, yet.”

“I will accept whatever challenge you throw at me,” he said with a shrug.

Aloy snorted and pointed to the ravagers. ”Quickest to beat one?”

Kotallo hummed, confident that he would be able to defeat a ravager with one arm—he'd already done it before. But could he beat Aloy's speed with a bow and arrow? Not to mention her preference in using machines' weapons against them. "I accept your challenge," he said with a smirk, "on the condition that we only use our own weapons to defeat the machines. The use of their cannons is not allowed."

“Why?”

“To make things interesting.” Then his smirk widened. “Besides, I have never seen you defeat one with just your bow.”

Her lips curled in a sneer. “Oh, you think I can't beat a ravager without using its cannon?” She turned away from him and began marching down the path.

“I didn’t say that,” Kotallo said with a chuckle as he followed her, admiring the graceful sway of her hips. “What will you ask of me, if you win?”

"I'm, uh, still thinking about it."

Kotallo shook his head, glancing at the tips of her red ears as they walked down the path until their boots crunched dirt and patches of grass instead of snow. Crouching towards the machines up the small rock slopes, they hid in tall grass, scoping out their surroundings and watching the ravagers. Kotallo didn’t have a Focus like Aloy, but ever since their thunderjaw hunt, he’d started paying attention to machines’ patrol paths.

“You take that one,” Aloy said, pointing to the one on the left as they dropped their satchels. 

“Alright,” he said, smirking at her, amused by the frown on her face. She was very attractive when she was being competitive.

Her frown deepened when she caught him staring. “Don’t distract me. That’s cheating.”

Kotallo snorted. “How exactly am I distracting you?”

She nudged him with her elbow. “Stop it.”

“Aloy, I’m not even doing anything,” he said, chuckling, glancing at the ravagers quickly. His was already approaching, almost directly below one of the higher rock slopes. Elbowing him again, Aloy clicked her tongue, and began to straighten from her crouch. Kotallo grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down. “One moment. I require a kiss.”

Her face reddened instantly. “What for?” she hissed.

“For good luck.” Ah, he missed his chance. His ravager was going around again.

“This is a challenge. I’m your competitor. How does it make sense for me to give you a kiss for good luck?”

There, it was coming around again. “If we kiss, we’ll both be giving each other good luck.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Kiss me.”

“No.”

“Kiss me, Aloy.”

She let out a grunt of frustration, before grabbing the front of his armor, and crushing her lips to his. Kotallo groaned against her mouth, but kept his eyes open. Almost there.

He broke the kiss gently and stroked her cheek. She had a scowl on her face, but Kotallo wasn’t fooled, he knew she wasn’t truly annoyed. “Happy now?” she asked with a roll of her eyes.

“Very,” he said, before springing up on his feet and dashing towards a tall rocky slope. He heard Aloy yelp behind him, but he didn’t look back as he brandished his spear. The ravager looked up, its blue lights turning yellow, then red. But by then, Kotallo was leaping from the rock, yelling a battle cry that echoed all around them.

Kotallo sat on the dead ravager’s back as Aloy marched up to him, a murderous look on her face. His heart hammered in his chest, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the battle or because of the fierce woman advancing towards him. 

“You cheated,” she growled at him.

He chuckled as he stood, and stepped on the ravager's head to pull out his spear. He turned around and arched his brow at Aloy. “How did I cheat?”

“What do you mean, how? You—you know what you did!”

“At ease, Aloy,” Kotallo said, trying hard not to laugh, though he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “You are right. It was dishonorable of me.”

She wrinkled her nose. “That’s right. It was.” 

He stared at her fondly, wanting to kiss her again, but guessing she wouldn’t appreciate it, now that she was truly annoyed with him. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“You won the challenge,” he said with a shrug. “I await your command.”

Aloy sighed, pursing her lips as she crossed her arms in front of her. She was still frowning when she dropped her arms and closed the distance between them. She rose up on her toes, gripping his shoulders for balance, and kissed him hard. 

Quickly recovering from his surprise, Kotallo dropped his spear and wrapped his arm around her waist as he slanted his mouth over hers, returning the hungry licks she gave his tongue. His blood was rushing through his veins, a byproduct of the battle that just ended. But his adrenaline was quickly turning into lust, a deep desire to ravish Aloy’s mouth until she was pliant against him. 

She pulled him closer, so close that he could feel her breasts pressed up against his chest. He moaned in her mouth when she rolled her hips, and on pure instinct, he lowered his hand and cupped her ass. 

His eyes widened when she gasped, and he swiftly stepped back. “Apologies,” he rasped, his hand flying to his forehead. “I—I have no excuse. I’m sorry.”

“Why do you do that?” Aloy asked, panting and bright-eyed, the beginnings of a scowl forming on her face. 

Kotallo hesitated at the tone of her voice, realizing that she was more than just annoyed. “Do what?”

Placing her hands on her hips, she chuckled without humor, as if she couldn’t believe she had to explain herself. She looked away, biting her lips, and Kotallo suddenly felt anxiety tightening his chest as he waited. When he started to think she wouldn’t say anything further, Aloy shrugged, a helpless little gesture that accompanied a heavy sigh. “Why do you—why do you pull away?”

The anxiety turned into a cold ball of regret as Kotallo took in her drawn expression. I hurt her.

She scoffed, then waved her hands over herself. “I mean, if you don’t want to—,” she waved her hands again, “—kiss me, you don’t have to. But half the time, it’s you that starts it. But then you pull away so I never know what to think.”

Kotallo’s stomach knotted as he continued to stare at her. He felt like he was being backed into a corner with no way of escape, and he clenched his jaw instantly at the thought, hating himself for being a coward. He didn’t understand exactly how, but he knew that his cowardice was hurting Aloy. The words lodged themselves in his throat, but there wasn’t any more time. And he didn’t want to continue hurting her. 

He reached out to take her hand, slowly closing the distance, and sighing in relief when she let him. “Come with me.”

Aloy frowned. “Where?”

“I have to show you something,” he said, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb. “Everything will become clearer once I show you, I promise.”

Releasing a heavy sigh, Aloy shrugged and gestured to him. “Okay. Lead the way, I guess.”

They walked side-by-side in silence after they had retrieved their satchels, the dead ravagers and their components forgotten. Kotallo didn’t let go of Aloy’s hand as he led her back to Pitchcliff, and he was relieved when she didn’t try to pull away. Despite her brusque nature, Aloy was a forgiving person. Far more forgiving than he deserved.

Clouds blocked the moon for a time, shrouding them in darkness and making the air feel cooler. But they knew the way, and Kotallo ceased his thoughts as he led her past a dead tree to the small waterfall just outside of the settlement, trying to calm his heart by slowing his breathing. He stopped next to the riverbank and let go of Aloy’s hand. 

“I don’t get it,” she said, gesturing to the river. “What is it you’re showing me?”

He pulled in a breath and knelt on the snow. “This,” he said as he dipped his hand into the icy water and began removing his paint. His heart thundered in his chest with each part of his face that he scrubbed clean. It might have been his upbringing that made him used to frigid temperatures, but he couldn’t feel the water at all. There was a surreal feeling of existing outside of his body, as if he was looking at himself from the outside instead of being in the moment. 

But that feeling quickly ended when he realized that he was finally bare. He stood up slowly and faced Aloy, clenching his fist by his side when he couldn’t stop shaking. She stepped closer to him, her eyebrows still drawn, as if she was still confused, but there was also something akin to fascination in her eyes as she traced his features with her gaze. As if she was seeing him for the first time. 

Kotallo unglued his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “Do you remember what I told you about what it means for a Tenakth to remove his paint?”

The moon finally appeared, its bluish light casting Aloy's face with an ethereal glow, giving Kotallo a good view of the flickers of emotions that played over her face. Her eyebrows leapt, then furrowed. Then she licked her lips and shook her head. Finally, she crossed her arms in front of her and arched an eyebrow. “Yep,” she said, popping her lips. “Show of trust…between squadmates.”

His heart dropped.

But she was speaking again before he could say anything. “Now, I’m even more confused. Are you telling me that the Tenakth kiss all of their squadmates like that?”

“What? No, that’s not—I mean, yes, removing one’s paint can be a show of trust between squadmates, but that’s not—,” Kotallo stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated that this was not going the way he intended. He took a deep breath and reached out, stroking her arm with his knuckles until she rolled her eyes and gave in to his silent request, placing her hand in his. 

He took another deep breath as he squeezed her fingers and said, “To the right person, baring yourself is a kind of declaration.”

“And what are you declaring, exactly?” she said, her tone acid-sweet.

Say it. Say it now. “I love you, Aloy.”

She gasped softly, a slow smile lighting up her face as a breathless laugh escaped her. But then she tilted her head. “Why did you say it like that? Like you’re not happy about it or something?"

Squeezing her fingers again, Kotallo looked away, unable to stop himself from regretting that he'd chosen to be honest with her. "I shouldn’t even be offering myself to you, when I’m…” he trailed off, lifting his shortened left arm. “You deserve more than—”

Aloy stopped him, curling her fingers around the back of his neck and pulling him down to press a quick kiss on his lips. “Don’t tell me what I deserve. I know what I want, and I know how I feel," she whispered, stroking his nape. “I love you too. At least, I think I do.”

Her words sent lightning down his spine, but then he laughed as he registered everything she said. He leaned away slightly to take a good look at her face. “What?”

Her cheeks reddened as she scowled up at him and retrieved her hand from his neck. “Hey, I’ve never felt this way, okay? I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone like I always want to kiss you. I’ve never had problems with…thinking about someone to the point of distraction. And I have never been jealous before.” She scrunched up her face, as if she remembered something that embarrassed her. “It felt awful, but I couldn’t help it. I had no reason to dislike Kopilai. She’s a good leader, great fighter, and she can be funny when she’s not being so serious, but it was just—,” she stopped, letting out a grunt of frustration.

Kotallo's forehead creased as he tried to make sense of her outburst. “So what you mean to tell me…is that you have feelings for me," he said slowly.

Aloy rolled her eyes and snorted. “That’s a really vague way of putting it, but yeah.” She looked up at him through her lashes, her cheeks still red as she chewed on her lip and reached up to fiddle with her wooden necklace. “It’s late."

He hesitated, not sure where she was going with this. "I suppose it is."

"It's late and it's cold out," she said quickly. "But I don’t want to sleep yet so…so just sleep in my room tonight.”

Kotallo's heart stuttered, incredibly moved by the idea that Aloy wanted to spend more time with him, that perhaps she longed for his presence just as much as he longed for hers. He didn't trust himself to speak yet, so he lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across her knuckles. 

“Lead the way,” he finally said.

"Right. Okay," she said, then paused, looking at his face. She let go of his hand and reached up to remove her scarf from her neck. "Come here," she said softly. 

He smiled and did as she asked, leaning down so she could reach his head. He stiffened when she started wrapping her scarf around his face, realizing that what he was smelling was the fragrant scent of her skin. When she was done, he straightened, and adjusted the fabric around his eyes, inhaling deeply. "Shall we go?"

"Yeah, okay."

Kotallo walked beside her as they went up the settlement. They nodded to a few Oseram workers as they went up to her lodging, his blood rushing through his ears again as they neared.

He dragged in a breath, attempting to slow the racing of his heart as he stood behind Aloy while she unlocked the door. When she finally got it to open, the room was dark, and she turned around with a grimace. “I need to light the lamps.”

He wet his lips. “I will be here,” he said, standing just at the threshold, watching Aloy jog inside and drop her satchel near the door. 

One-by-one she lit the lamps hanging on the wooden walls, suffusing the room with warm light that flickered as wind blew in from the outside. Her borrowed room looked very similar to his and Erend’s, it even had the same kind of storage chests, tables, and the same type of mirror in the corner. But it was larger, with one bed at the far end instead of two. The bed was large, with enough room for two people to sleep in. Or to have se—

Don't tempt yourself, he thought as he swallowed, watching Aloy as she turned to the bed, the iron and flint clattering as she placed them on the small wooden table next to it. She faced Kotallo, her eyes wide as she licked her lips, and gestured for him to come inside with a nod and a wave of her hand. He dragged in another breath and stepped through the doorway, closing the door behind him, the creaking of the hinges quiet compared to the deafening silence that followed. 

Kotallo cleared his throat as he removed her scarf from his face and hung it over his shoulder. He gestured to the latch. “Should I—”

“Yeah,” Aloy said, shooting him a forced smile. “Wouldn’t want someone to, uh, come in all of a sudden. Because we’d be sleeping! And, uh…” She waved her hand vaguely, before crossing her arms in front of her, her shoulders hunched. 

He felt his body relax, her nervous display tempering the tension in his shoulders. Turning around, he locked the door, dropped his satchel next to hers, then walked towards her, his heart squeezing as she watched him with guarded eyes. When he was a foot away from her, he lifted his hand between them, palm up, waiting for her to take it. 

Sighing heavily, Aloy dropped her arms and slid her fingers across his. She chewed on her lips again and looked up at him through her lashes. Kotallo wanted to take her in his arm and hold her close, but he coached himself to take it slow. He lifted her hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles, before tugging her gently towards him and placing her hand on his hip. He sighed in relief when her other hand followed, before she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her forehead against his chest. 

Kotallo slipped his hand under the fur pelt on her shoulder, rubbing gently with his thumb, before reaching up and placing his hand on her nape as he leaned in and buried his nose in her hair. “We are just going to sleep, Aloy. I do not mind sleeping on the floor, if it will make you more comfortable.”

Aloy shook her head, her forehead dragging back and forth across his armor, almost as if she was burrowing into his chest. “I don’t want that,” she said softly, finally lifting her head to look him in the eye. “Unless…do you want to sleep on the floor?”

He shook his head, lifting his hand to stroke her cheek. “I would rather sleep next to you, but only if you want me to.”

She sighed, her fingers fidgeting behind him, fiddling with the metal plating of his belt. “I do. I want that, I mean,” she said, then glanced down at herself. “I, uh, I don’t usually sleep in my armor.”

Kotallo offered her a smile he hoped was reassuring. “You can wear whatever makes you comfortable, Aloy. I promise I won’t do anything.”

Instead of looking relieved by his words, her eyebrows furrowed immediately, and she pursed her lips. “Um, okay. Will you—what will you wear to sleep?”

“Typically, I only wear my undershorts to bed. But I do not mind sleeping in my armor,” he said, before glancing down at himself as well. “Perhaps I will remove my belt and tassets. But I can keep the rest of it on.”

“No, it’s—,” Aloy paused to lick her lips. “It’s fine. Just, uh, just wear your shorts.” She retrieved her arms and stepped away from him, then waved her hands over to the storage chest in the corner. “Could you turn around?”

“Of course,” Kotallo said, turning around and staring hard at a discolored spot on the wall. The room was deathly silent, and his ears picked up every tiny sound of Aloy’s movements: the click of her belt, the whisper of her tassets, her soft grunts as she slowly undressed. He swallowed, lifting a hand to rub his face. “Do you mind if I removed my armor now?” 

“Go ahead. Could you put out the lights after? Leave just one?”

“Yes, alright.” Bending down, Kotallo unclipped the fastenings of his boots, kicking them off and setting them to the side, before standing back up and unbuckling his belt. He focused on his own movements as he doffed his armor, distracting himself so he wouldn’t imagine Aloy naked behind him. 

Aloy was silent behind him as he took everything off, leaving his blue cotton shorts, before crouching on the ground to fold each item and setting them neatly on top of his boots with Aloy's scarf at the very top of the pile. When he stood up, he put out the light in the lamp nearest him, before walking to the next, then the next, then the next, until only the lamp by the door remained. 

When he turned around, Aloy was already sitting cross-legged on the left side of the bed, looking like a dream in a light-colored bandeau and dark loose pants. She was fiddling with the hem of her pants as he approached, fascinated by how much smaller she looked without armor. He paused at the foot of the bed and watched her eyes swept over his form, lingering on his thighs. Wetting his lips, he gestured to the space next to her. “May I?”

Kotallo climbed on the bed when she nodded, then lay on his back, dragging in a breath as he stared at the ceiling, and placed his hand on belly. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing as Aloy followed his example, the bed creaking under her weight. He kept his eyes closed, even as he felt her fingers brush over the linen covering his stump. “Don’t you take this off to sleep, too?”

Turning his head, he found her lying on her side, her head pillowed on her right arm. He stared at her, his eyes tracing her beautiful face and her delicate shoulders, but stopped his eyes from moving any lower, though he could see the swell of her breasts from his periphery. “Not usually,” he murmured, briefly wondering if he should keep staring at the ceiling, but this vision of Aloy lying next to him, bathed in dim orange lighting, was compelling. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Her forehead creased. “Why would I be uncomfortable?”

Kotallo shrugged as he glanced down at Aloy’s small hand, her fingers still resting on his stump. “It’s…” He sighed, staring at the raised scar, before shrugging again, trying to mask the feeling of self-consciousness creeping up his body. He wished she had chosen to lie on the right side of the bed, so that he could hide his stump from her view. Why did he think it was a good idea to take off his armor as he did? “It’s unsightly. There are still days where I have a hard time looking at it.”

He looked up at the sound of Aloy taking a deep breath, then raised his eyebrows when she shuffled closer to him. She lifted herself on her elbow until her face was directly above his, her hair spilling over her shoulders and on his chest. He forced himself to lay still as she lifted her hand to his face, making his skin tingle and his chest tighten as she trailed her fingers delicately over one eyebrow, down the bridge of his nose, over the scar on his lip, and over the scar on his chin. His heart was in his throat by the time she was cupping his cheek, looking down at him with kind eyes. 

“Kotallo,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “You’re beautiful.”

He stopped breathing for a moment, just staring at her. His hand flew to his face to cover his eyes as he pulled in a shuddery breath. He held it there, squeezing his eyes shut, but to his horror and despite his efforts, tears spilled down his temples to the top of his ears. He clenched his jaw, but gasped when Aloy’s lips covered his, her body settling against him. 

Kotallo slid his hand from his eyes, parting his lips for her as he wrapped his arm around her waist. He trembled underneath her, his heart swelling with emotions, feeling as if his chest itself was expanding. His cheeks were damp, and he tightened his arm around Aloy when he realized that she was crying with him. 

He gasped loudly when she pulled away, as if it was his first breath in a long while, and watched her as she leaned back. “May I?” she asked as she placed her fingers on his stump.

Kotallo licked his lips, taking a deep breath again as his eyes slid closed. Finally, he nodded, his gut tightening with nerves when Aloy started untying the linen. He squeezed her hip when his stump was finally uncovered, flinching when her warm breath fanned across his scarred skin. Gathering his courage, he opened his eyes and found her staring closely at his stump, her face angled away from the light, making it difficult for him to see her expression. He gasped again when Aloy leaned down and nuzzled her tear-streaked cheek against his residual limb. 

“You’re strong, Kotallo,” she said as she looked at him, her cheek still pressed against his stump. “You believe that, right?”

He dragged in a breath and clenched his jaw, not trusting himself to speak yet, knowing that his voice would crack if he tried. But Aloy only looked at him patiently, her eyes shining as she kissed the raised scar on his stump. He tore his gaze away from her and stared at the ceiling, rubbing his eyes as he tried to slow his breathing. When he felt calmer, he looked back at her and cleared his throat. “There are some days that I do. But some days…” he trailed off, shrugging his good shoulder, a half-hearted attempt to mask the storm of emotions swirling violently inside him.

“And today?”

A sob escaped his lips, his lungs seizing as he gazed upon Aloy, stunned by her courage and the depth of her compassion. “Today, I believe it,” he said, before rolling onto his left, pushing her down on her back, and slanting his mouth over hers. 

He swiped his tongue across her lips then groaned, his cock hardening in his shorts as she sucked his tongue. Aloy was rolling her hips restlessly against him, her thigh brushing against the front of his shorts. He kissed her harder, swallowing her moans, his mind rapidly dissolving in pleasure at the feel of her skin against his.

Then her hips stopped moving, and suddenly she was breaking away from his lips. “Wait, one second—”

“I’m sorry,” Kotallo said, a ball of shame dropping in his stomach as he started to settle back on his side. He’d promised he wouldn’t do anything, but he had lost control of himself again.

Aloy grabbed his shoulder. “No, come back,” she said, pulling him closer until he was half on top of her again. She put her hands on his cheeks and licked her lips, blinking up at him as if she was mustering the courage to say something. “Kotallo, um…”

He lifted his hand to grip her wrist, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” she said breathlessly, nodding as she licked her lips again. “Okay, uh, I know you said we were just going to sleep tonight, but—um…”

Kotallo’s heart fluttered as he smiled helplessly at her, taking in the redness of her cheeks, and the heat behind her eyes, guessing her thoughts correctly. A sliver of worry crawled in the back of his mind, a persistent thought that he couldn’t possibly satisfy her with only one arm, but the joy bursting from his chest from having Aloy against him, looking up at him with undisguised affection and want, overshadowed any anxiety he felt.  

“Go on,” he said, brushing his nose against hers. “What were you about to say?”

Aloy grinned and made a show of rolling her eyes as she pinched his cheeks. “You know what I was gonna say.”

“Tell me, Aloy,” Kotallo murmured as he dropped his hips, letting her feel how hard he was for her, his cock pulsing with want when she gasped and rolled her hips against his. “Use your words.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “I want you,” she said with another roll of her hips. “I don’t know how to do…this, exactly. I mean, I know how it works, but I’ve never—,” she sighed. “All I know is that I want you.”

He frowned. “You’ve never—,” he paused, blinking at her in disbelief as her meaning became clear. Then all at once, he understood. Aloy may have had the time and opportunity after leaving Nora lands once she stopped being an outcast, but he knew that she didn’t make space in her life for people. She helped people along the way, but her personal mission had been all she cared about, and he knew this because that was how she was when they met.

Aloy shrugged. “I mean, I tried to kiss someone once, but it didn’t feel…” she scrunched up her face. “Not like when we kiss.”

Kotallo couldn’t speak, honored by her trust, honored that she'd chosen him. But the sliver of worry was growing. He leaned his forehead against hers and sighed, taking a moment to push his anxiety back, replaying how Aloy nuzzled his shortened arm earlier in his mind. She wanted him. Unbelievable as it was, she wanted him. 

He kissed her, a gentle press of his lips that she returned immediately. His heart was swelling again in his chest: with gratitude, with joy, with love. It was almost overwhelming, this feeling of wanting to hold Aloy close for all time, as much as he could with just his one arm. Never in a million years would he have expected to have this, not even when he was at the Grove as a Marshal, young and arrogant enough to believe that he had the world in the palm of his hand. It was so surreal to think that he was lucky enough to find Aloy—no, for Aloy to find him after his exile, after losing his arm, and with it his confidence.

Kotallo pulled back and stroked her cheek. “I want you too,” he told Aloy. Speaking the words felt like a hammer striking anvil, reawakening his desire. “But you have to promise me that you will tell me to stop as soon as you feel uncomfortable.”

She rubbed his calf with her heel. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

He huffed, then leaned down. “Promise me, Aloy,” he murmured, before placing a kiss on the shell of her ear. She gasped and squirmed beneath him, her hands flying to his shoulders. When she didn’t respond, he pressed his teeth to her earlobe. “Aloy.”

“I promise,” she whimpered, her blunt nails digging into his skin. “I promise.”

“Good.” Kotallo kissed her hard, slipping his tongue through Aloy’s parted lips, his hand moving from her cheek back to her waist. Groaning against her mouth, he moved his hand lower, in awe of how graceful and sensual she was as she curled her hips toward him. He moved his hand again, sliding up her abs, then slipped his thumb underneath her bandeau. Kotallo stroked her skin, waiting for Aloy to object or to push his hand away, and when she didn’t, he slipped his whole hand underneath to cup her breast, purposely grazing her nipple with his fingers.

Aloy broke the kiss with a gasp as she arched her spine, pressing her head hard against the pillow. “Kotallo,” she moaned.

Blood of the Ten, she was so soft underneath his palm. And the way she moaned his name—Kotallo dropped a kiss on her lips, ignoring the way his cock was pulsing in his shorts. “Do you want me to slow down?” he rasped, flicking her nipple.

“No, keep going,” Aloy said with a roll of her hips. He pinched her nipple, just a gentle press of his thumb and forefinger. “Yes!”

Kotallo leaned back and watched her as he rolled her nipple delicately between his fingers. Aloy was beautiful, her eyes squeezed shut, moaning and gasping fitfully underneath him. Taking a deep breath, he tried to push back the hunger inside him, reminding himself to take it slow. This was her first time, and he was determined to make this perfect for her. 

“Would you remove this for me? I want to see you.”

She opened her eyes and nodded. Kotallo leaned back, carefully bracing his weight against his stump, and groaned when she arched her spine off the bed and removed her bandeau with both hands in one smooth motion. His mouth watered at the sight of her bare breasts, beautifully plump, both nipples hard as if reaching for his fingers or his tongue. Then, suddenly, they were gone, covered by small hands. 

He inhaled sharply as he dragged his eyes over to Aloy’s face, eyebrows leaping when he found her giving him a dirty look. “Are you alright?” he asked, itching to touch her, but hesitating in case she’d had enough. 

“You’re not doing anything,” Aloy said, pursing her lips. He blew out a breath, chuckling as his panic ebbed away, making room again for a dizzying dose of lust as he realized that she was just impatient for him to touch her. “You’re just staring.”

“Apologies, I was just admiring you,” he said, placing a kiss on the back of her hand. “Show them to me, Aloy. I’ll make it up to you.” He swept his hand over her belly, pleased when she quivered. “I promise.”

She sighed, the tiny sound of pleasure heating his blood, and slowly lifted her hands. He admired her perfect breasts again, just for a moment, before brushing her left nipple with his thumb and leaning down to flick his tongue over the other. 

“Yes!”

Aloy’s sudden cry spurred him to close his lips around her nipple. He sucked her hungrily, enjoying the taste of her skin on his tongue, groaning when her fingers curled around his hair binding. Her other hand flew to his wrist as he plucked her nipple, as if to keep his hand where it was. 

His eyes snapped to the sudden jerk of her hips as he lapped at her nipple, enthralled with the way her legs parted. He was flooded with the desire to touch her between her legs, to discover if she was as wet for him as he was hard for her. Kotallo pulled his wrist from her hand and squeezed her right hip, before hooking his thumb under the waistband of her pants and smallclothes. Again, he waited for her to object or to pull away, and was delighted when she braced her feet on the bed and lifted her hips.

Kotallo pulled down her pants and smallclothes slowly, reminding himself again to take his time. Aloy let out a huff of impatience and shoved them both down, kicking them off her legs in a fury of movement, but not before he caught a glimpse of the damp spot in the middle of her smallclothes. He stared stupidly at the thatch of curls between her legs, before growling against her nipple as he cupped her sex without thinking, his fingers sinking between her folds, finding her already slick.

“Kotallo,” she mewled, grinding against his fingers. 

He bit back a sigh of frustration as he gathered her slick and circled her clit. Aloy was so wet, and he wanted to touch her more, but his stump was starting to ache. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold himself up like this. 

Removing his lips from her nipple, Kotallo looked up at Aloy’s face as he teased her clit with the pad of his finger, his blood surging again as he watched the helpless trembling of her lips as she moaned loudly. “Aloy, let me kiss you here,” he murmured, stroking her folds.

Her eyes snapped open. “There?” she panted, then gasped as his fingers continued to slide against her sex.

“Yes, I want to taste you,” he said, circling her clit again. “I want to taste you here and make you come with my mouth.”

Kotallo felt her fingers tighten on his hair for a moment. “Okay, just…,” she trailed off with a sob of frustration as she pushed his head gently.

Too riled up to feel anything but a vague amusement at her impatience, Kotallo shifted his weight, and pushed himself on his knees, automatically feeling relief as the pressure was removed from his stump. He lifted her right leg and ducked under it, only to stop short at the sight of her glistening sex. 

“Aloy,” he choked, running a finger down her cleft, gathering more of her slick. He lowered himself on his stomach, in between her shapely thighs, and his senses were automatically assaulted by her sweet scent.

Looping his arm under one thigh, Kotallo buried his nose in her damp curls and closed his eyes as he ground his hips against the bed. “Aloy,” he breathed, moving his nose around her mound. “You smell wonderful.”

“Do something,” she begged, thrusting her hips towards his face and draping her arm over her eyes. “Kotallo, please! Just do—”

He pressed a firm kiss on her clit, then gave her a long lick.

Aloy gasped, her back lifting off the bed as she grabbed the sheets. Kotallo listened carefully to her cries as he licked her, wanting to discover what she liked the most. He would have liked to tease her more, have her begging for him, but he was desperate for her. He wanted to push her to her limits, make her tremble around his tongue, and shout his name when she reached her peak. 

He dragged his tongue down to her entrance and thrust inside her, flooding his taste buds with the sweet-and-salt taste of her slick, holding her hip down with his hand when she twitched and moaned. He ground his hips on the bed, unable to keep from imagining what it would feel like to be inside her, stroking her inner walls with his cock. He moved to her folds, stroking with his lips, before circling her clit with his tongue, then putting his lips around the little bud to suck gently.

Aloy gasped, before letting out a long moan. She reached down and placed her hand on his head, tugging again on his hair binding. “Right there—oh,” she gasped again. “Don’t stop. Please don't stop.”

I won't, he thought, watching as she placed her other hand flat on the bed next to her hip, before grinding her sex on his tongue. He groaned loudly, flattening his tongue to accommodate her as he reached down and squeezed his cock through his shorts to take off the sharp edge off of his desire. His neck was starting to hurt from the unnatural angle it was bent, but he didn't dare move away. Not before she finished. Her moans were getting louder, the movement of her hips becoming erratic. She was close, she was going to come because of him, because of his mouth, a privilege that he alone would get to see. 

“Kotallo!”

Come for me, he thought avidly, his heart rejoicing when she screamed his name as she spasmed on the bed. He licked her delicately when her climax spilled over, as she trembled on the bed, only stopping when he felt her push his head weakly and her hips dropped to the bed. 

Looking utterly debauched, she slid her feet down so that her legs lay straight on either side of Kotallo as she breathed heavily, beads of sweet gathering on her sternum. He leaned his cheek against her thigh as he studied her, his heart swelling with pride. “Good?” he asked with a smirk.

Aloy sighed, tilting her head to look at him, a dreamy smile on her face. She lifted her hand, and formed a circle with her forefinger and her thumb—the hand signal for ‘okay’. They laughed together as Kotallo wiped his mouth on her thigh, before lifting himself with his hand so that he was sitting on his haunches in between her legs.

Her eyebrows leapt as her eyes snapped to the tent in his shorts. Kotallo put his hand on her knee and smiled at her. “We don’t need to do anything further, Aloy,” he said softly.

Licking her lips, Aloy jerked her chin at him. “Take off your shorts.”

Kotallo pulled in a breath, his cock throbbing at her command. He straightened so that he was on his knees, and kept his eyes on her face. His gut tightened with lust as he watched her part her lips when he finally released his cock from its confines. 

Aloy stared at his cock and didn’t speak, only bent her knees and widened her legs, as if offering herself to Kotallo. She was a sight to behold: her hair spread out like a halo on the pillows, her beautiful face flushed, and her nipples hard. He rubbed his mouth as his eyes traveled lower, until he was gazing again at her sex, dripping with a combination of her slick and his spit. Lowering his hand from his mouth, he gripped his cock by the base and ran the tip slowly along her cleft, coating the head with her warm slick. 

Her thighs shook when he ran the head gently over her clit, sending sparks of pleasure down his spine. “How does this feel?”

“It’s good,” she panted as she spread her legs wider. “But I want you inside me.”

Kotallo groaned at her words, then leaned forward, bracing himself over her with his arm so that her breasts were pressed against his chest. “Do you remember your promise?” he asked. Aloy nodded, wrapping her legs around his waist as she gripped his shoulders. He placed open mouth kisses along the line of her throat as he slowly pressed inside her, trying to focus and listen for any signs of pain through the red haze in his mind. But all he heard was the sounds of her pleasure as he sank deeper.

Groaning hard in her ear, Kotallo pressed his hips flush to hers. He blinked rapidly, trying to get some semblance of control back, and brushed his nose against her cheek. “Are you well?”

She released a shaky breath. “Yeah. There’s no pain,” she said as she wriggled her hips, driving him to madness. “Move, Kotallo.”

“Be patient,” he huffed, lifting himself slightly so that he could stare at her face. Her eyes were half-lidded, darkened by lust, almost pleading. He placed his hand on the top of her head, and slanted his mouth over hers. He started to kiss her slowly, but she rolled her hips against his, driving him deeper inside. He groaned, and pulled away from her mouth. “I said be patient,” he growled.

Aloy nudged his back with her heels as she scowled at him. “Why? Why do I have to be patient?”

“I don’t want this to end too quickly.” Kotallo hissed as she started squeezing him from the inside, making him jolt without meaning to. He glared at her. “And it will, if you keep doing that”.

“But that’s okay, right?” she asked, stroking his shoulders restlessly, looking genuinely confused. “It’s—I mean, there’s always tomorrow.”

He chuckled darkly, pulling his cock out slowly, relishing the slick friction and the way she keened. “You assume I can wait that long,” he said, just before snapping his hips. She cried out, her nails scraping his back. 

He pulled his hips back, then slowly slid back inside her. “Not like that,” she moaned, pressing her heels into his ass.

“Harder?” he rasped, then snapped his hips again. “Like this?”

“Yes! Harder!”

Kotallo gripped the sheets next to her head and drove into her with punishing strength, encouraged by her strangled cries and her demands for more. Aloy’s eyes were closed tight, lips parted wide as she pressed her head back into the pillows. And as he stared at her face, he knew with a bone-deep certainty that he would never want anyone else.

Aloy gasped and opened her eyes. “I’m—”

“I know. I can feel you,” he groaned. She was squeezing him tighter, her inner muscles clenching around him. He ignored the urge to go faster, to chase his own release, and kept up the rhythm that she liked. She trembled harder beneath him, arching her back as much as she could with him on top of her.  

"Kotallo, I'm—," she took a deep breath and cried out, her nails digging painfully on his back, her whole form shaking as wave after wave of pulsing pleasure wracked her body. Kotallo slowed his thrusts while she soared, her walls spasming around him, but when her moans quieted, he picked up the pace, slamming harder into her.

He could feel the tension coiling in his gut, and his hurry to find release had his rhythm faltering. "Aloy," he moaned brokenly, pressing his lips on her shoulder.

“Are you—,” she gasped. “Are you coming?”

“Yes,” he growled. Blood of the Ten, she was rolling her hips, matching his rhythm. “Aloy. Aloy,” he groaned, chanting her name in her ear, before pulling out and sliding his cock against her cleft, clenching his jaw as his climax crashed over him. 

He panted hard, Aloy’s hand stroking his hair as he shuddered helplessly against her. When his breathing slowed, she chuckled. “I can’t breathe. You’re too heavy.” 

Kotallo groaned as he lifted himself up to kneel in between her legs. He stared at his seed, splattered around her sex, and let out a satisfied sigh. Aloy huffed and nudged him with her toe. “What are you looking at?”

He started to feel lethargic, wanting nothing more than to lay down beside her and sleep. But he couldn’t let his spend dry on her. “You know what I’m looking at,” he murmured as he stood up and walked to one of the tables that held a jug of water. He smirked as he passed her armor and picked up her fur pelt, chuckling when she glared at him.

“Put that down. There’s a cloth over there by the storage chest.”

Kotallo did as she asked and dropped the fur pelt back where it was. He knelt between her legs again when he had retrieved the cloth and began cleaning her sex and her thighs, finding the task oddly soothing. When he looked up, Aloy had propped herself up by her elbows, just watching him. “Do you feel alright?” he asked.

Aloy sighed. “Yeah. I can't move my legs, but I feel…great,” she said with a chuckle. Then she licked her lips and looked at him pensively. She opened her mouth a few times, but didn’t say anything. Releasing a breath, she lay back down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. 

Dropping the cloth on the floor to pick up later, Kotallo walked over to her side of the bed. “Could we switch places?”

“Sure,” she said as she scooted over to her right to make room for him. 

He lay on his side facing her, placed his elbow on the bed and propped his head up with his hand. As soon as he did this, he regretted it. He couldn’t touch her this way, but he was already on the bed. He lay on his back instead, and stretched his arm out to pat Aloy’s head. “Come here, Aloy. Let me hold you.”

Aloy hesitated, then finally rolled over to him, laying her head on his chest. He wrapped her arm around her shoulders and pulled her up so that he could place a kiss on her forehead. “Will you tell me what’s on your mind, or should I defeat you again first in another challenge?”

“You cheated. It doesn’t count.”

Kotallo didn’t respond, only nuzzled the top of her head, waiting for her to speak. She huffed and stroked his chest, before leaning back slightly to look him in the eye. “Would I be an ass if I told you right now that I love you?”

He squeezed her shoulder in time with the squeezing of his heart. He blinked at her for a moment, before smirking. “Are you certain now?”

Rolling her eyes, she pinched his nipple, making him flinch as she frowned at him. “I knew you were going to say that.”

Kotallo grinned. “You must have felt really good earlier."

“You’re so smug,” she complained. “But this is why I didn’t want to say it again yet. I didn’t want you to think that I was only saying it because we had sex.”

He hesitated, before squeezing her shoulder again. “Do you love me?” he asked softly.

“Yeah. I really do,” she said, her eyes bright under furrowed eyebrows, looking as if she was truly concerned. "I love you."

Kotallo released a shaky breath, then swallowed the lump in his throat as he stared at her. He feared that he was just dreaming, that he had just imagined the past few hours. The happiness filling his chest was unbelievable. But he was really here, Aloy’s weight on his solitary arm was real.

“Then that’s all that matters,” he said, sighing as he placed another kiss on her forehead. "I love you, Aloy."

Sometime later, as they held each other, their breathing slow and in-sync, Kotallo thought back to what transpired that night. It felt like he had been caught in a whirlwind caused by a stormbird, leaving him confused, exhausted, and wishing there was a way for the mind to recall a memory exactly. He glanced down to look at Aloy, but his chin was on top of her head, and he couldn’t see her face.

“Aloy,” he said softly, stroking her arm. “Are you asleep?”

She sighed and rubbed her face near his armpit. “I was getting there,” she said, her voice muffled and distinctly grumpy.

Kotallo huffed, and nuzzled her hair in apology. “I was thinking about what you said earlier, after I had removed my paint.”

Aloy tilted her head to pay attention to what he was saying, blinking up at him sleepily. “Which part?”

He hesitated, trying to recall what she said. “Did you say that you were jealous? Of Kopilai?”

She scowled at him and smacked his chest. He laughed, until she poked him in the ribs. They wrestled each other, Kotallo getting the upper hand and pinning Aloy down with her front to the bed. Soon, the sounds of their laughter faded, and their pleasured moans filled the room.

Suffice to say, they didn't get much sleep that night.

Chapter Text

The last rays of the sun glinted off the numerous platings stitched to Erend’s armor as he jumped into the air and brought his hammer down on the back of a wounded scrapper with a resounding thunk. Sparks flew from the machine’s metal body as it fell to the ground, its impact softened by a layer of snow. 

“How do you like that, huh?” Erend yelled.

He moved faster than Kotallo had expected, and the force of Erend’s swing made him nod appreciatively at his friend. He watched as the scrapper bit into the handle of Erend’s hammer, narrowly missing his fingers, before Erend lifted his hammer with the machine still holding onto it, and slammed the scrapper into the nearest tree. 

Nicely done, Kotallo thought. He’d be a formidable opponent in the sparring ring.

Varl winced as Erend dealt another mighty blow on the scrapper’s head. “So,” he said, glancing at Kotallo. “Still don’t know what Aloy’s been doing?”

Kotallo shook his head, his eyes still trained on Erend’s form. “She refuses to tell me what she’s been up to. But I will get to the bottom of it tonight.”

“You’ve been saying that since she started—what, five days ago?”

He kept his face blank, not wanting Varl to suspect that Aloy had become exceptionally good at distracting him in the two months since they started spending their nights together. He pushed thoughts of her away for now, along with the memories of the night before, of images of her glorious body rising above his, her pert breasts swaying over his face as she took him deep inside her.

Kotallo cleared his throat and faced Varl. “And you? I thought that Zo had forgiven you already?”

“I may have put my foot in my mouth again this morning,” Varl said with a grimace as he scratched the back of his neck. 

“Oh?” Kotallo said, raising his eyebrows. “What did you say?”

Varl sighed. “I told her that I was tired of eating alone and that if she was craving meat so much, then she should just eat meat.”

Kotallo didn’t bother hiding his smile. “That was a foolish thing to suggest. The Utarus’ eating habits are centered on their beliefs.”

“I knew that, but—,” Varl rubbed his face. “No, you’re right. It really was foolish of me.”

“Hey!”

Kotallo and Varl both looked at Erend as he strode towards them, a frown on his face. “This is supposed to be a boys’ night out! We’re supposed to be bonding! What are you two doing sulking in a corner?”

“I do not sulk,” Kotallo said, just as Varl said, “Sorry, we’ll stop.”

Erend kissed his teeth as he let his hammer’s head drop to the ground. “C’mon guys, you’re always spending time with the ladies,” he said.

“We should find someone for Erend,” Varl said with a determined nod of his head.

“I agree. Someone who can match his humor and energy.”

“Now, hold on. I don’t need anyone’s help finding someone,” Erend said with a wave of his hand, before turning to Kotallo, echoing the words Erend had said to him the day the two of them spoke about Erend’s ‘little crush’ on Aloy, “And I told you that I don’t even have the time. I’d just make them miserable.”

It was true, Erend’s presence had become sparse the last few weeks. Today had been the first time in days that they had seen him, and he and Varl had quickly agreed when Erend had invited them to go hunting and to ‘let out some steam’. 

“Is it that bad?” Varl asked, his voice quiet.

Erend shrugged. “It’s going as well as it can be,” he said, looking away from them to scan their surroundings. Kotallo quelled his curiosity about the state of the war and assumed that Erend was still choosing not to divulge any specifics to Varl and Zo, though he couldn’t guess at the reason. Varl and Zo only looked mild-mannered on the outside, but they were seasoned warriors. “Think I see a couple of chargers over there. Not gonna be much of a challenge, but I’m still itching for a fight.”

A fight that he can win, Kotallo thought, his mouth pressing into a firm line. But his eyes caught movement, and he looked to the side, only to see one of the Oseram guards panting as he jogged up the slope towards them, his heavy metal and leather armor weighing him down into the snow. Erend groaned low in his throat when he saw the guard and his shoulders sagged.

“News,” the guard panted, placing his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “I have news.”

Erend looked at Kotallo and Varl with a guarded expression. “Uh—”

“We’ll be over there,” Varl said, pointing behind himself. “Take your time.”

Kotallo followed Varl over to one of the large rocks a few feet away, far enough that they weren’t in hearing distance. He glanced at Varl as he took a seat, surprised that the other man was wearing a frown on his face. “Something wrong?”

Varl snorted. “Something definitely is,” he said, nodding his head at Erend. “It’s obviously bad news.”

Kotallo hummed, thinking of what to say as he looked back to observe Erend, secretly agreeing with Varl. Whatever the guard was saying to him was making Erend rub his face vigorously. “Perhaps it is merely urgent news.”

Varl shot Kotallo a chiding look. “I know what bad news looks like.” 

Kotallo sighed, instantly feeling contrite. Varl was the son of the Nora War-Chief, of course he would have had plenty of opportunities to see what it looked like for himself. 

Varl nodded his head towards Erend again and asked, “What do you think it’s about?”

“It is hard to say. It could be anything.”

“He doesn’t tell you anything either?”

Kotallo hesitated, glancing warily at Varl, before sighing again. “Some.”

Varl scoffed as he crossed his arms, looking towards Erend and the Oseram guard again. “He doesn’t need to shield us from the Red Raids. It’s been pretty good here. You can almost pretend it isn't happening, except that we know that it is." He shifted his weight and leaned back against the rock. "He’s acting as if we haven’t all lost someone because of this damn war.”

Kotallo’s eyebrows leapt, shocked into silence from the heat behind Varl’s tone. Though he agreed with Varl, he didn’t speak. Hadn’t he just thought about how confusing it was that Erend was withholding information from Varl and Zo specifically? 

“Hey, guys!” Erend yelled from where he stood, waving his hand above his head. “I’m gonna go ahead. Got some work to do.”

Kotallo and Varl raised their hands to indicate that they’d heard him, and watched Erend followed the Oseram guard down the slope. He glanced at Varl surreptitiously, but didn’t move from his spot, waiting to see if the other man still had something to say.

“Have you and Aloy talked about the war at all?” Varl asked, his face finally free of the dark expression he wore earlier. Kotallo hummed, his eyebrows furrowing in thought, before Varl snorted and wrinkled his nose. “I get it. Not much talking going on.”

“There is plenty of talking,” Kotallo said with an amused huff. “Not about the war, perhaps. But Aloy seems interested to know everything there is to see out west.” He had hesitated to tell her more stories in the beginning, reluctant to feel homesick again, but he couldn’t ever say no to her. And after a while, he realized that it felt good to talk about his home, though he longed to see it again. Longed to show her, rather than just telling her about it.

“Has she talked to you about Nora lands?” Varl said, only to sigh when Kotallo shook his head. “I figured.”

“She speaks of Rost sometimes,” Kotallo said as he adjusted his legs so they were mostly straight, the snow touching the linen wraps around his boots. He looked up at the darkening sky, about to ask Varl if he’d like to begin making their way back to the settlement, when the mention of Rost sparked a memory. He hesitated to ask, but he was suddenly curious to learn if Varl knew. “Do you know what a Death-Seeker is?”

Varl frowned. “I’ve never heard of it before. What’s that?”

“Aloy once told me that your Matriarchs made Rost a Death-Seeker, but they wouldn’t tell her what it means.”

“A Death-Seeker,” Varl mumbled. “Sounds awfully self-explanatory, but from what my mother told me, Rost was…rational. Cold. Almost detached when it came to fighting. And I’ve never heard of anyone being granted that title before.”

“The Tenakth have something similar to what you’re thinking. We call them berserkers."

Varl shook his head. “No, that doesn’t sound like anything I've heard about Rost at all.” Then, Varl frowned again. “What about Aloy? Does Erend tell her anything about the war—the rebellion?”

Kotallo grimaced. “Only about Helis’ whereabouts, I believe.”

Varl clicked his tongue. “As if I don’t also have a bone to pick with the Terror of the Sun.” Varl shook his head and sighed, pushing off the rock he was leaning against. “Ready to go back?”

Kotallo stood up and followed Varl down the slope until they reached the path, taking in the stiffness in the other man’s shoulders as he walked. He thought that the matter had been settled, but Varl turned to him when Kotallo walked beside him and said, “I’m going to talk to Erend. I mean, I’ve been meaning to talk to him, anyway.”

“What about?”

“Helping,” Varl said with a shrug. “With the rebellion, I mean.”

“Zo will join you, of course,” Kotallo said. Varl pressed his lips together. “You haven’t told her.”

Varl shook his head. “No. I already know what she’s going to say.”

“She would want to fight with you. Help ensure your child grows up in a safe world.”

“Yeah,” Varl said, a hint of defeat in his voice. “Don’t get me wrong, I know that she’s strong. She wouldn’t have been able to lead an assault on Barren Light if she wasn’t.”

Kotallo frowned. “Then what is your concern?”

“I love her,” Varl said simply, before shrugging again. “I love her and she’s carrying my child. And I’ve already lost my sister and many of my friends to the Red Raids.”

Kotallo hesitated, falling silent as he thought. He licked his lips as he stepped over a pile of snow, his boots finally walking over gravel. “No one is truly safe until this war ends.”

“I know,” Varl said quietly. “I know I can’t stop her, if she really wants to fight. But I can’t help but worry anyway.” He shot Kotallo a half-smile. "I bet you wouldn't be able to stop Aloy, if she wanted to fight."

"I wouldn't stop her," Kotallo said, offering Varl a smile of his own. "I would join her."

The sun had set when he and Varl finally walked through Pitchcliff’s arch entrance. They walked alongside the grumbling Oseram workers as they continued up the path. “See you up there?” Varl asked, nodding his head towards the very end of the settlement where the dining area was.

“Perhaps,” Kotallo said. “I must speak to Aloy first.”

Varl chuckled, shaking his head. “Good luck getting her to tell you anything.” 

Kotallo stopped by the wooden door to the lodging he now shared with Aloy, waiting for the crowd to thin. Once he was alone, he pressed his ear to the wooden door, checking to see if he’d be able to hear what Aloy was doing inside, but it was silent. Either what she wasn’t doing didn’t make a lot of noise, or the door was too thick. Keeping his ear to the door, he sighed in defeat and knocked. “Aloy?”

The door was not as thick as Kotallo had thought. He could hear a muffled “Ow” as well as footsteps running all around the room. He snorted and tried to open the door, disappointed that it was locked. He moved to press his ear against the door again, when it finally opened just enough to reveal a panting Aloy in her Oseram armor.

“Hey,” she said, her eyes wide. Her eyes darted past Kotallo and up to the sky before turning back to him again. “I didn't realize it was already dark.” 

Kotallo placed his palm on the door to open it further, and stepped inside, straightening to his full height so he was looming over her as she walked backwards to give him room. Everything seemed to be as it was when he left this morning. 

Aloy cleared her throat. "Looking for something?"

He smiled, arching his brow as he closed the door behind him and turned to slide the latch to the lock. Her eyes were still wide  when he turned back to her, and her lips pressed tightly together, as if to keep herself from spilling her own secrets. Normally, he would have just waited for her to be ready to tell him, but she had been leaving clues for him to find: small machine platings here, pieces of fur there. He figured that it was unintentional, she always rushed to keep things away whenever he arrived. And no matter how or how much he'd pleaded with her for the past five days, she had stubbornly persisted.

Perhaps it was time to change tactics.

Kotallo wrapped his arm around Aloy's warm waist, and pulled her to him slowly, pleased when she immediately reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. She tilted her head up, silently asking for him to kiss her on the lips, but he leaned in to place a kiss on her forehead instead. "You must be tired," he murmured against her hair, "after working on your project."

"I'm not tired," she said quickly. "I'm not tired at all."

His lips twitched, but he smoothed his expression before pressing his forehead against hers. “I missed you,” he whispered against her lips.

Her lashes fluttered as she brushed her nose against his. “I’ve been here all day.”

And it’s time I find out why, Kotallo thought as he took her left hand from his neck and led her gently towards the bed. He sat on the edge and pulled her onto his lap so that she was straddling him. Her eyebrows leapt as she settled on his lap. “What is it?”

“You—,” she glanced down, rolling her hips, rubbing her still-clothed heat against the bulge at the front of his pants, sending sparks of pleasure down his spine, “We haven’t even done anything yet.”

Kotallo smiled, his hand wandering back to her waist, sliding up beneath her vest, stopping at the edge of her bandeau. “I thought about you earlier.”

She arched her brow. “About me or about my breasts?”

“Both,” he said with a chuckle, looking up at her impishly, tickled that she had figured him out. “Will you show them to me tonight?”

Aloy tilted her head, humming thoughtfully. “You haven’t even kissed me yet.”

“Haven’t I?” he said, grinning as he tilted his head. “My apologies. Let me make it up to you.”

Like all of their kisses, this one started with the slow slide of their lips, and the gentle meeting of their tongues as Kotallo buried his fingers in her hair. He savored the taste of her mouth and the warmth of her breath, and felt all the tension in his body vanish. It almost felt like letting himself fall on the bed to rest after a long day. Almost like…like coming home.

Aloy pulled away, chuckling when he tried to follow her, and tugged the hood of his armor. “Take this off?”

Kotallo leaned away from her as she unwound her arms from his neck, and did as she asked, her hands clasping his shoulders as soon as he dropped his armor on the floor. She squeezed his shoulders as she traced his chest and torso with her eyes, her cheeks reddening when he smirked at her. “I like looking at you,” she said, shrugging casually.

He hummed, deeply pleased by her words, as he placed his hand on her waist again. “Now let me look at you.”

Aloy released a shuddery breath, her half-lidded eyes staring into his before tracing his chest and torso again with such heat that he could feel her gaze scorching his skin. She didn’t look away from him as she unclasped the front of her vest, revealing her cream bandeau, more of her lithe stomach, and the graceful line of her shoulders. She let her vest slide down her arms and fall to the floor, before pulling her bandeau up and over her head, mussing her hair as it fell all around her. Placing her hands behind her and on top of his knees, she pushed her chest out, as if to draw Kotallo’s eyes to her breasts, though she didn’t need to for he was already staring at her nipples as they hardened before his very eyes. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his mouth watering, begging him to taste. He knew that he had a reason for taking her to bed like this: teasingly, making them both wait. But for the life of him, he couldn’t remember.

“Kotallo,” she said, squeezing his knees. “Stop staring already.”

He leaned in, rubbing his nose against her sternum, breathing in the scent of her skin. He traced his lips over her breasts slowly, first her left breast, then her right, avoiding her nipples, though he badly wanted to take them into his mouth. His cock was pounding as blood rushed through his ears, but stopped when he felt her wrap her hand around the binding of his hair.

“Let me take my time, Aloy,” he said as he placed soft kisses on the side of her breast as he stroked the underside of the other with feather-light touches. “Put your hand back where it was.”

She clicked her tongue, but did as he asked, knowing that he could be as stubborn as she. As soon as her shoulders were pulled back, Kotallo licked her nipple, just a gentle flick of his tongue that had her arching her back even more as she sighed and let her head fall back. He plumped her other breast with his hand, before plucking her nipple while he sucked on the other, eliciting more of her pleasured sighs and breathy moans. 

Kotallo placed his hand on the middle of her back as he dragged his lips to her other breast, giving the same care and attention to her nipple as he did the other. How he wished his left arm was still whole, if only to fill both of his palms with her tender flesh. 

Aloy trembled on top of him, helpless to his lips and tongue as he moved from one nipple to the other. Her responsiveness called out to him, making him curl his hips so that he was rubbing against her. She whimpered and leaned forward to wrap both of her arms around his head. “Enough,” she breathed. “Take off your pants. Take everything off.”

Her blunt demands made his blood sing. “I can’t do that with you on top of me,” he murmured against her skin, placing more kisses wherever his lips could reach. 

She eased off of him, watching him as he stood and unclasped his belt, just as she unclasped hers. They let their tassets fall to the floor, quickly unlacing their own pants and kicking off their boots, eager to feel the other’s bare skin. Aloy was naked before he was and she reached for him before he could stare too long at her thatch of curls and the glistening proof of her arousal around her inner thighs. 

When Kotallo’s cock finally sprang free, she wrapped both of her small hands around him, just as he showed her last time. He groaned as soon as she touched him, tipped her chin up, and captured her lips in a heated kiss. 

Kotallo moaned against her lips, licking her tongue as she spread the pearl of pre-cum from his slit all around the head of his cock with one hand while she stroked him with her other. He slanted his mouth on hers to deepen the kiss, curling his hips towards her hands in time with her strokes as he reached down to play his thumb over her nipple. He shuddered when she reached further down to cup his balls, his breath catching when she squeezed them lightly.

He broke their kiss abruptly and pulled his cock away from her hands, delaying his climax. He didn’t want to come in her hands tonight, though he could say that about every night. He tipped her chin again. “How do you want me?” 

Aloy swallowed. “How do you want me?”

“You’re letting me take charge tonight? Are you certain?” he asked, the possibilities immediately racing through his mind. He dragged in a breath when she nodded. “On the bed, then. On your elbows and knees. Quickly.”

Her eyes widened, but she pulled her chin from his hand and did as he commanded, leaning forward on her elbows as soon as her knees hit the edge of the bed, and lifting her ass high in the air. Kotallo rubbed his mouth and blew out a breath as he stared at the line of her spine and the two dimples just above her ass. “Spread your knees wider.”

She turned her head to look at him, but did as he asked, spreading her knees so that her sex was closer to the edge of the bed. He knelt behind her, placing his palm on the globe of her ass, and licked her inner thighs. Ah, he’d never tire of tasting her like this. 

“Kotallo,” Aloy moaned, wriggling her hips. “Stop teasing.”

“I will take my time,” he said, sliding his thumb further in, stopping just before her folds, so that he could spread her open for him. “And you will be patient.”

Kotallo dipped his tongue in her entrance, closing his eyes in ecstasy, before angling his head so that he could reach her clit, forgetting that he meant to take his time. But the sweet and musky scent of her sex was heady, and her loud moans bolstered the desperation rising inside him.

He lapped at her sex, sweeping his tongue from her clit to her entrance in long strokes, before thrusting his tongue inside her again. Aloy gasped, bucking back against his face as he licked her. 

Kotallo stopped and leaned back, sitting on his haunches. Aloy immediately lifted herself on her hands, whipping her head around to try and glare at him. “Kotallo! What—why—”

“Stop moving and let me lick you,” he said with a smirk, though she couldn’t see it. He nipped her other cheek, making her twitch. “Back on your elbows, Aloy. Let me take my time.”

She let out a sound of frustration, but went back on her elbows without another word. He loved it whenever she obeyed him without complaint, desperate for the pleasure he could give her. He indulged her, angling his head again to flick his tongue over her clit, stroking faster. Then, without warning, he slipped a finger inside her.

“Ah—!” 

He curled his finger inside her as he licked, feeling her walls tighten as she trembled harder on the bed. She moaned even louder as she neared her climax, her hips twitching but not moving any further, as if afraid that he’d stop what he was doing if she did. 

“Kotallo—Yes!”

She was coming, he could feel it, her clit beating like a pulse against his tongue. He licked her, circling his tongue around her clit until her cries died down and she tried to bring her shaking knees together. “That was good,” she sighed. 

He chuckled, wiping his mouth against her thigh, before standing up and wrapping his hand around the base of his cock. “I’m glad you thought so,” he said, smirking at her when she turned her head to look at him, her hair sliding off her back and to the side. He stroked himself lightly, enjoying the way her lust-filled eyes made him feel as they fixed themselves on his cock. “Do you want more?” 

“Yeah,” Aloy said softly, and wriggled her hips again. “I want you like this.”

Kotallo licked his lips, and positioned the tip of his cock at her entrance. He pushed inside of her slowly, her long moans sending shivers across his skin as he closed his eyes, sliding deeper inside her until he was completely enveloped by her incredible heat, her inner walls still pulsing from her earlier climax. He opened his eyes again and pulled out of her just as slow, then watched in avid fascination as he disappeared again inside her. He sighed. “I wish you could see what I see.”

“You’re going too slow,” she whined, pulling at the sheets.

“Hush,” he said, clutching her hip. “I will take care of you. Just let me—,” he hilted himself inside her, groaning loudly. He rolled his hips, grinding against her ass.

“Just like that,” Aloy gasped, pushing back against him. “Do it aga—ah!”

The urge to snap his hips welled inside him. He wanted to take her fast, take her hard, until she shattered on the bed. But he took a deep breath, and made love to her like she wanted, in this slow rhythm that ended with a hard roll of his hips. 

The sound of her slick as he pumped inside her caught his attention, and he looked down again to where their bodies were connected. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear w-what?”

“Sshh, listen,” he said softly as he slid inside her once more. Her gasp told him that she’d heard. “That’s how wet you are, Aloy.”

She sobbed against the bed. “Faster. Faster, please.”

Yes! Kotallo clutched her hip tighter and slammed into her, her loud cries spurring him on. He slammed into her again and again, hard and fast. She was crying out, accepting the pounding of his cock as she trembled before him, trembled around him. She was incredible, and her pleasure was his. 

“More!” Aloy cried, clawing now at the bed. “More, Kotallo!”

Ah, yes, she was tightening around him now. “Let go, Aloy,” he growled, his hips moving in a frenzied rhythm. “Come for me.”

She buried her face into the bed, muffling her screams as she pulsed around him. He continued to snap his hips until her screams turned to quiet whimpers. Ah, Aloy, he was so close, he was—

Kotallo pulled out of her and stroked himself twice, shuddering and gasping as he spattered her lower back with his seed. He pumped his cock one last time, his eyes widening as Aloy’s hips started to tilt sideways on the bed. “Wait,” he said as he held her hip. “You’ll make a mess.”

She frowned at him. “It’s your mess.”

He smirked. “Indeed,” he said with a chuckle. “Stay still.”

Kotallo walked to the basin on top of one of the tables next to the bed, one they had started to ensure was full of water everyday, and dipped a clean cloth before walking back to Aloy and wiping her lower back. When he was done, she immediately crawled up and settled into a fetal position on the bed. 

He released a heavy sigh as he lay down next to Aloy, immediately wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer. She turned to face him, intertwining their legs together, and shifting higher on the bed. “I went outside earlier. I saw Erend,” she said. “Why weren’t you and Varl with him when he came back?”

“One of the guards came to get him,” he murmured, stroking Aloy’s back. “It seemed like urgent news.”

Aloy nodded, humming as she reached up to touch the scar on his chin. He sighed contentedly, battling the urge to close his eyes, and watched the minute changes to the expression on her face, instead—the way her forehead began to crease, the corner of her lips curling downwards, the slight narrowing of her eyes. “What are you thinking about?” he asked. 

Her eyes dropped to her finger, watching it as she stroked the scar there. “I was thinking about…Cauldron Zeta.”

That wasn’t what he expected her to say. But it seemed like it had been a lifetime ago since he’d promised to accompany her. “You haven’t brought it up until now. I was beginning to think you were no longer interested in going.”

“I wasn’t thinking about going,” Aloy said, then shook her head. “Wait, no, I mean—I’m still interested in going, but that wasn’t really what I was thinking about.” She fell silent, her lips pursing as she moved her fingers upward to stroke the scar on his lip. “I was thinking about what you said to me after we were attacked by the stalkers.”

Kotallo glanced down at her body, his hand moving to the patch of skin at her waist where she’d been wounded that day, only to remember that she’d been wounded on her right side. He placed his hand on her hip, instead. “You are not as reckless as you were when we met.” 

She snorted, leaning away slightly to pin him with a look. “Maybe you think that because you’re the reckless one now. But I wasn’t talking about that. I was thinking about what you said to me after that.” She raised her eyebrows. “You said that my strength will count for nothing if I only fight for myself.”

He nodded. “I remember.” She made another thoughtful sound, then leaned in to tuck her head under his chin. “Aloy?”

“I was just thinking that maybe it’s time that I did that. You know, fight for others. Make a stand,” she murmured against his neck. “I mean, if Rost would see me now, I think he’d be pretty disappointed that I had become so single-minded in trying to avenge him. That I was just…waiting around for Helis to come out.”

Kotallo frowned, reaching up to brush her hair from her shoulder. “I do not think he would be disappointed.”

“You didn’t know Rost.”

“I didn’t know Rost,” he agreed. “But I am certain that he would be proud of you. You have helped plenty of people since leaving the Sacred Lands, regardless of what tribe they belonged to,” he said firmly. He leaned back and tipped her chin. “Even the Carja call you ‘Savior’.”

She rolled her eyes, just as he expected her to. “Only some of them do. And you already know that story—I just helped one of the settlements drive away Jiran’s soldiers. I don’t even know how that spread.”

“It spread because you helped many others after that.”

“You don’t get it.” Aloy sighed and gripped his wrist. “I only helped those settlements because I was there looking for Helis. That’s why I went to Sunfall, remember? Vanasha told me they’d be taking you in, but I went because I might find Helis there.”

“And freeing the prisoners?” Kotallo asked, raising his eyebrows. “Did you insist on saving them as well, because you might find Helis in one of the cells?”

Aloy frowned. “Well, no. I did that because…” she trailed off, looking away from him. Then she began to wriggle closer to tuck her head back under his chin. 

“One moment,” he said, gently curling his fingers around the back of her head. “What were you going to say?”

She sighed again. “I did that because I wanted to help,” she said quietly, before shaking her head. “But there’s…I feel like just helping people along the way isn’t enough anymore.”

Kotallo pursed his lips as he thought, feeling as if he finally understood what Aloy wanted to say. “Have you been speaking to Varl?” he asked, then shook his head when her forehead creased. “He mentioned earlier that he wanted to join the rebellion.”

Aloy grimaced. “If there was another way to win the war without having to…join anyone, I’d do that. But I can’t defeat a whole army on my own, can I?”

He chuckled. “No. Not on your own.” He continued brushing her hair and running his fingers along her braids. “I believe that it’s a worthy endeavor. And I will follow you wherever you go.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You will?”

“I will,” he said, leaning down to press a chaste kiss on her lips. “I told you once that I will help you kill Helis, and I mean to honor that. If you decide to change your mind about joining and go to the Cauldron instead, I will follow you in.”

She smiled and wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling herself closer. “You know I’ll follow you too, right? Wherever you go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, though,” he said, brushing his nose against hers. 

“You know what I mean.” She closed the distance, kissing him deeply, licking his tongue. He groaned, reaching down to cup her ass, his cock stirring to life, but she pulled back. “I’m hungry.”

Kotallo gently pushed her down with his body and leaned down to nuzzle her breast. “So am I,” he murmured, just before gliding his tongue over her nipple. 

Aloy gasped, her back arching, as if to push her chest closer to his face. But then her stomach rumbled, and they both stiffened as they listened, the gurgling sound audible in the quiet space. Kotallo glanced at her face, his lips stretching to a grin when he found her pouting.

“I told you I was hungry,” she said.

“So you did,” he said, chuckling as he pushed himself off her. “Come, then. Let us get dinner.”

They stood up from the bed, and picked up their armor silently off the floor. Kotallo let his gaze linger on Aloy’s ass as she bent down to pull her smallclothes and pants up over her hips. She turned around, her bandeau in her hand, pausing when she realized he was watching her, and slowly smiled. “What?”

He put his pants on, then sat back down on the edge of the bed, his eyes wandering to her breasts down to her abs, before moving back up to her face. He shrugged as he pulled his boots to him, his body still thrumming with arousal. “You are beautiful.”

Aloy blushed as she pulled her bandeau over her head, then over her breasts, before glancing down to the tent at the front of his pants. “I’m hungry,” she said, raising her eyebrows, as if to remind him that there was a reason they were getting dressed.

Kotallo chuckled, and picked up his leather top and her Oseram vest off the floor. “I know, Aloy.”

They smiled at each other as they finished donning their armor. As they walked to the door, Aloy stood on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. He shot her a smile and wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her close, but she lay her hand on his chest. “I’m hungry,” she said again. 

“You have to stop distracting me then, or we’ll never leave this room.”

She unlocked the door with her other hand without looking, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Is that all you ever think about? I feel like that’s all we ever do.”

“Whose fault is that?” Kotallo said, looking pointedly at her, realizing with a start that he had forgotten his purpose earlier, almost as soon as she had bared her breasts to him. “We used to hunt together, until you started locking yourself in this room, working on your secret project.”

The door creaked as Aloy pulled it open, her mouth forming a pout that he had the urge to kiss away. “It's not a secret. It's a sur—”

“My, my, aren’t you two awfully close?”

Kotallo stiffened, a ball of dread immediately forming in his stomach at the familiar voice. He looked up as he took in the woman's devious grin behind the thin veil she wore, and the knowing tilt of her head. He felt Aloy stiffen next to him as well, only to relax again when she realized who the woman was. 

“Vanasha,” she said with a smile, her cheeks reddening as she rubbed the back of her neck. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Vanasha lifted a delicate shoulder. “Oh, I would’ve loved to visit, but I’ve been so busy,” she said, before looking pointedly at Kotallo’s hand around Aloy’s waist. “So have you two, it seems.”

“Um, yeah,” Aloy murmured. She looked up at Kotallo. “Kotallo, this is—”

“I know who she is,” he interjected, his tone rougher than he intended. He narrowed his eyes at Vanasha, suspicious of her reasons for coming to them. “We’ve met.”

Her grin widened, delighted by his reaction to her presence. “Yes, we had a nice little chat, didn’t we?”  

Kotallo scoffed. “What do you want?”

“Just wanted to catch up with my favorite huntress,” she said, glancing at Aloy before looking back at Kotallo. “And my favorite Tenakth marshal.”

Aloy frowned at her as Kotallo growled low in his throat at the reminder that he was the only marshal left. “Vanasha,” Aloy said, a warning in her tone.

Vanasha chuckled as she raised her hands. “Alright, I’ll stop teasing,” she said with a look that said for now, before stepping to the side and gesturing to the path upwards. “Let’s move somewhere more private, shall we? I have news.”

Kotallo let his arm drop to his side as they let Vanasha walk ahead of them, his heart pounding, anxious to hear what news she brought with her. Did something happen to his tribe?

Aloy looked up at him again, her face full of concern, but dropped her gaze to address Vanasha. “Can’t you tell us now?”

“Patience, Aloy. All will be revealed soon,” Vanasha replied over her shoulder, her nose wrinkling playfully.

Kotallo kissed his teeth as he clenched his fist, then flinched when Aloy gently touched his wrist. “What’s wrong?” she asked quietly. “I haven’t seen you this angry in a while.”

He softened as he looked at Aloy’s wide eyes, unclenching his fist to briefly squeeze her fingers before letting his hand fall limp. “The first time we spoke…” he began, gesturing to Vanasha. “It was not pleasant.”

“I know she can be a bit much, but you have to remember that she’s with the rebellion.”

“Do you trust her?”

Aloy looked him in the eye and nodded. “I do.”

Kotallo dragged in a breath, studying her face, before giving a sharp nod. “Alright.”

They walked further up the path, passing only the few guards posted around the settlement, until the merry voices and singing from the dining area drifted towards them. Vanasha led them to the yellow rope ladder that led to Ralert’s overlook and turned to face them, the infuriating smile still on her face as she gestured to the rope. “After you.”

“No,” Kotallo said, his instincts warning him not to turn his back away from a Carja spy, even though Aloy trusted her. “After you.”

She raised her eyebrows at Aloy. “What a gentleman,” she said, chuckling as she climbed up the ladder.

Aloy started to climb up after her when Kotallo noticed that she didn’t have her weapons. “Wait,” he said, grabbing hold of her wrist, cursing mentally that he didn’t think to bring any weapons, either. He had become too lax in this false sense of peace in Pitchcliff. 

Aloy brought her foot down from the lowest rung and sighed, sensing his apprehension as he scanned the overlook from below, but it was quiet and there was no one he could see. She took his hand in hers. “Nothing’s going to happen to us up there, Kotallo. There are only three of them up there, and one of them is Erend.”

His lips drew taut as he took a deep breath, but some of the tension ebbed at the knowledge that at least Erend was there. “Alright,” he finally said, squeezing her fingers. 

Kotallo watched with a racing heart as Aloy climbed up the ladder. He shouldn’t be feeling this nervous, especially now that he knew Erend was going to be at this meeting. But he realized that it was not fear that they would be attacked while they were without weapons that worried him. Though Vanasha didn’t divulge any details as to what kind of news she brought with her, the fact that she had invited Kotallo only meant that it was news of his home. He didn’t want to believe that the Carja truly had spies in the Clan Lands, but he supposed that anything was possible after Tekotteh became chief. 

He climbed up the ladder, the apprehension growing within him, but eager to get this done. When he finally reached the overlook, it was to find Erend sitting on one of the stools and looking at the floor, the moonlight making his face look deathly pale as he stroked one side of his beard, as if to soothe himself. Vanasha was leaning casually against one of the tables next to a man who looked up at their arrival. Most of his face was hidden beneath the hood of his dark cloak, except for his neatly trimmed goatee.

Kotallo’s eyes narrowed as he stood beside Aloy, scanning the hooded man’s form, the intricately decorated machine plating on the shoulders of his cloak poorly masking the man’s thinness. He had his hands clasped tightly in front of him, a stance not that of a warrior, but Kotallo couldn’t be sure.

“Who is this?” he said to Vanasha, gesturing to the stranger with a jerk of his head, already weary of the peculiarity of the situation. 

Kotallo straightened, poised to attack, when the man lifted his hands to his hood. The man’s hands paused. “Peace,” he said, his voice soft, before pulling his hood back, revealing short dark curls and tired eyes lined with kohl. 

He was not a man Kotallo recognized, and based on Aloy’s lack of a reaction, it seemed that she didn’t know him either. “Who are you?”

Vanasha pushed herself off the table to stand ahead of the man. “You are in the presence of Prince Avad, 15th Luminance of the Radiant Line—oh, well, I suppose 14th now.”

Kotallo’s eyes widened as he scanned Avad’s form again. This was Jiran’s second son? The man who had aided Erend’s sister? 

“Hold on,” Aloy said, cutting Kotallo’s thoughts short. “What did you mean by that? That he’s the 14th now?”

“Why are you here?” Kotallo said before anyone could answer, his body tensing, and his eyes darting to the shadows around them, checking to see if there were any hidden guards he hadn’t noticed when they first arrived, forgetting that Aloy told him that there were only three people there before they climbed up.

Erend stood up from his stool and approached Kotallo slowly with his hands raised. “Buddy, it’s okay. We’re alone.”

“Yes,” Avad said with a sigh. “My remaining honor guards are camped a distance away. I thought it would be best to come alone.”

“Despite my warning,” Vanasha quipped as she moved to stand directly in front of Avad, her hand hovering above the slit of her long skirt, her eyes trained on Kotallo. 

“Stop that,” Aloy said, scowling at Vanasha. “Kotallo’s not going to hurt anyone.”

“That remains to be seen,” Kotallo muttered darkly, ignoring Aloy as she whipped her head around to narrow her eyes at him. He jerked his head towards Vanasha. “You said you have come bearing news. Tell us.”

Avad stepped around Vanasha, the hem of his cloak barely swaying around his feet at his subtle movements. He raised a hand to stop Vanasha before she could voice her protest, and took a deep breath. "My brother, the first prince, is dead. He was sentenced to die in the Sun-Ring by my father," he said in a clear voice, as if it wasn't the first time he'd said this to anyone else, though his eyes tightened around the corners. "I fled Meridian with anyone who would follow me to seek aid and to pass on information from Marad."

The news of Kadaman’s death did not affect Kotallo, though he suspected that this would come as a huge blow to the rebellion. He thought that Erend would react more to the news of Kadaman's death, but his friend simply bowed his head and sighed. He must've already been informed before Kotallo and Aloy arrived, but it still didn't explain why they had been invited here when they weren't even part of the rebellion yet.

"I'm sorry about your brother," Aloy said softly.

Avad shot her a half-smile. "You must be Aloy of the Nora—she who sees the unseen. I have heard reports of your deeds. You’ve done my people a service.”

Aloy grimaced. “Just…doing what I can.”

Kotallo closed his eyes briefly as he took a deep breath, summoning all of the patience that he could, anxious to hear what information the prince had brought with him. It had to be about the Clan Lands, about his tribe. But Erend spoke before he could.

“Now what?” Erend said, rubbing his face as he sighed heavily. “Sorry for your loss, but your brother was supposed to be our best hope of ending the Red Raids. I like bashing my way through, but even I know that’s not gonna work here. Not with Meridian’s defenses.”

“That is why I am here,” Avad said as he lifted his hands. “I will go to the Claim myself and rally the support that we need.”

“Ersa’s already trying to do that,” Erend said, before raising his eyebrows at Vanasha. “And I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be dangerous for a Carja prince to be roaming around the Claim.”

Vanasha shrugged and looked pointedly at the back of Avad’s head. “We’ve discussed it,” she drawled.

“I know the risks,” Avad said sharply, glancing at Vanasha over his shoulder before turning back to Erend, his eyes hard and determined. “I want to liberate Meridian. I want to end my father’s brutal reign.” 

Erend sighed. “I get that. And we want that, too.” He raised his hand, pointing a finger to the north. “But like I said, Ersa’s already over there, trying to get our people to fight back, but most of them just want to wait this war out.”

“Most,” Avad said. “Most, but not all. I am confident that there are others who will join us.”

“Us? You mean your honor guard?” Erend sighed again when Avad nodded. “That’s not nearly enough. We need an army.”

It was then that Avad finally looked at Kotallo, his lips disappearing into a tight line. “Yes, we do need an army. Now more than ever.”

Kotallo narrowed his eyes at him, trying to guess his meaning. He looked past Avad to glare at Vanasha. “What does he mean?”

She stepped forward, her face grim. “Your new chief has pledged Tenakth soldiers to the Sun-King.” She sighed and waved her hand in the space between them. “I seem to recall telling you that we couldn’t afford that to happen, but now it’s happened.”

Kotallo's chest tightened as he shook his head. “That’s not possible,” he breathed, taking a step back. Tekotteh wouldn’t be able to garner support from the whole tribe. Louder, he said, “No, the clan commanders would not allow it.” 

Vanasha crossed her arms. “One of the commanders pledged their whole clan to Tekotteh’s cause.”

“Who?”

“Does the name ‘Yarra’ ring a bell?”

Kotallo turned away from them, putting his hand on his hip as he stared across the overlook towards the dining area where Oseram workers were laughing and drinking. His lips drew back in a snarl as he thought about the last time he’d spoken to the Desert Clan Commander. All that talk about ensuring her clan’s survival when she would doom the entire tribe! Even if they helped the Carja win the war, who was to say that the Mad King wouldn’t turn his eyes back on the Tenakth for sacrifices? Tekotteh would throw their entire tribe in the Sun-Ring himself, if it meant he would be spared! If Yarra had just listened to Kotallo and joined forces with Atekka—

“Atekka,” Kotallo said, the red haze clearing from his eyes. He turned back around, his heart thundering, hoping for good news. “The Lowland clan’s commander. She was loyal to Hekarro, she would not have supported this!”

Avad exchanged a wary glance with Vanasha. “There was a rebellion—”

“It didn’t last long,” Vanasha interjected with a frown. “They were outnumbered. Atekka and the surviving rebels were sent away to be sacrificed in the Sun-Ring.” 

Kotallo tilted his head up and closed his eyes, trying to swallow the grief lodged in his throat. There was no one left who could possibly challenge Tekotteh’s rule, not when he had the entire Desert Clan and Sky Clan behind him. His people were doomed.

“There is still hope,” Avad said.

He chuckled, the sound cold and cruel even to his own ears, but the idea of hope now was laughable. ”Do you truly believe that you can raise an army strong enough to defeat your father’s army and the Tenakth?”

“Hey,” Aloy said softly, her hand gently wrapping around his wrist. He sighed and shook his head, pulling away from her grip slowly, refusing her touch, knowing that it wouldn’t bring him any comfort in that moment.

Kotallo huffed. “This is the end.”

Avad straightened, his chin lifting as he looked Kotallo in the eye. “It is not,” he said, steel behind his voice. “Atekka and her rebels have not perished in the Sun-Ring yet. They are still being held in Barren Light.”

Kotallo’s forehead creased, confused that the enemy would have delayed the sacrifice of Tenakth soldiers when he had been sent to the Sun-Ring immediately after he arrived. They did not even let him stay the night. “How long has it been since they were taken there?”

“Three days,” Vanasha said, then exchanged another look with Avad.

Avad looked at his boots as he dragged in a breath. “There is not enough room for them in the cells under the Sun-Rings.”

“Under both Sun-Rings?” Aloy said, her eyes widening as Avad nodded.

“I told you it wasn’t looking good,” Erend murmured when Kotallo looked at him, his eyes full of shame.

Kotallo pressed his palm against his forehead, trying to make sense of his turbulent thoughts. His mind was reeling from everything that they’d been told. Atekka was still alive. They just needed to free her, and—

He looked up, his eyes immediately meeting Vanasha’s as heat swept the back of his neck, his temper rising as he recalled the first time they met. She raised an eyebrow and smirked, as if she could already tell that he was thinking about the words she said to him that night. “I take it you’ve finally chosen?” she asked, lifting her shoulders.

“As if there was any other choice,” he growled. “But even if we defeat Tekotteh, there is no guarantee that Atekka will lead the Tenakth to open war.”

“She won’t have to. If the Tenakth join my father’s forces, our defeat is assured. If they don’t, we might stand a chance,” Avad said, his face hard. Then his features slowly softened, and he took a step closer to Kotallo. “I know that the Red Raids have taken much from you already, and it pains me to ask—”

“I will not be doing it for you,” Kotallo said through gritted teeth, his body vibrating with a mix of anger at being forced into this situation, and fear of failing. Now more than ever he had to succeed, even if he was exiled again after for his disfigurement, or made to face down a machine in the Arena. Even if his own tribe ridiculed him for being maimed. 

He had to try. Hekarro would have wanted him to. “I will do it for my people.” 

Kotallo didn’t wait for them to dismiss him, he didn’t answer to them, and as far as he was concerned, he had all the information he needed to know. He climbed down the rope ladder, not sparing them another glance, except for Aloy who seemed rooted on the spot. But he couldn’t think about that now, he had to get going.

He tried to recall as much as he could of his journey from Barren Light to Sunfall. How long had it taken him? What machines were on the path? He clicked his tongue when his mind couldn’t supply the answers, only reminding him that he had been in so much pain at the time, only focusing on planting one foot after the other, eager to die and get it over with. I should have paid more attention.

Kotallo shoved the door to his and Aloy’s lodging open, slamming it behind him, only for him to whip around at the sound of wood hitting flesh. He relaxed when he saw only Aloy, her right arm against the door. She stepped inside and closed the door softly behind her, looking at Kotallo expectantly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you,” he said.

Aloy shrugged. “I figured.”

He sighed and walked up to her, lifting her right arm gently for him to inspect. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m okay,” she said, before taking a deep breath in reaching up to cup his cheek. “You’re not.”

“No,” he admitted, leaning against her hand. “My people—,” he huffed, closing his eyes. “They might not need me, but they need someone. Unfortunately for them, I might be all that there is.”

“They’re stupid if they can’t swallow their pride,” Aloy said harshly, her thumb twitching on his cheek. But she softened quickly, and brought her other hand up to cup his other cheek. “But even if they can’t, I know you’ll still go to them. Because you’re a good man, and it’s the right thing to do.”

“It’s the right thing to do,” Kotallo repeated, finally opening his eyes to gaze into hers. Her eyes were bright and full of resolve, and he knew what she was going to say. He pushed her hair back over her shoulder, letting his fingers linger in her hair. “You cannot go with me to the west.”

She snorted. “Why? Because it’s dangerous?”

“This is a suicide mission.”

“Trust me. I’ve been on those before.”

He dragged in a breath as he grabbed her arm. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, he knew how stubborn she could be. “Even if I’m able to free Atekka, you would not be able to follow me into the Clan Lands. You would be an outlander there.”

“I’m an outlander here. What’s the difference?”

“The Tenakth do not suffer outsiders, Aloy.”

“Too bad. They’re gonna have to suffer me.”

Frustrated that she wouldn’t listen, Kotallo moved to turn away from her, but Aloy held firmly to his cheeks, her other hand sliding to the back of his head. He sighed as he circled his hand around her wrist and looked back into her eyes, realizing she wouldn’t let go until they had talked this through. She continued to stare at him as if she could peer into his mind, as if she could pull the answers to her unspoken questions from his eyes. “What are you afraid of?” she whispered. 

Kotallo released a shaky breath as he stroked her wrist. “I’m afraid of pulling you away from here. Of taking you further and further away from your home,” he said and bit his tongue from letting himself speak further. In truth, he was afraid that she would come to regret her decision to follow him into the west, afraid that she would grow to resent him. Even more than that, he was afraid that he’d only lead her to her death.

Her eyebrows leapt. “My home?” she said, her tone that of disbelief. “What home?”

“In—,” Kotallo leaned away slightly to get a better look at her face, as much as he could with Aloy still holding onto him. “Your home in the Sacred Lands.”

Aloy huffed, shaking her head as she licked her lips, looking at him with something close to disappointment. “When I was younger,” she began, her voice trembling. “I thought home was the cabin up in the snowy mountains where I was raised, far from any of the Nora settlements. But now—”

She hung her head as she took a deep breath. She stopped breathing, and Kotallo knew she was trying not to cry. He let go of her wrist to wrap his arm around her, silently waiting for her to continue. Her eyes were glistening when she finally looked back at him, but her lips were set in a firm line. “That cabin hasn’t been home since Rost died, Kotallo. And I thought you and I were the same that way. That we’re both without a home,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “But I realized that we’re not.”

His forehead knitted, trying to make sense of what she was saying. “I’m an exile, Aloy,” he said. “I am without a home.”

“But that’s not true,” she insisted. “I would help the Nora if they needed it, but I have no love for them. I have no love for the Sacred Lands. There is nothing there that I want to see again. I have no reason to go back except to maybe demand the boon the Matriarchs owe me.” She shook her head again. “We’re not the same. You love the Clan Lands. I can hear it in your voice every time you talk about it. And even after you were exiled, even after you were shunned, you still love your tribe.” 

Kotallo closed his eyes again, clenching his jaw. Aloy was right: he still cared for his people, still wanted the best for them. He felt almost foolish for still loving them even after everything that had happened, but he couldn’t help it. 

“That’s why I’m coming with you, whether you like it or not,” Aloy continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “I want to help you because you love them. Even though they’re a bunch of jerks.”

A chuckle escaped him. “Not all of them,” he murmured, opening his eyes again and pressing his forehead against hers. “You told me you wanted to help with the war.”

“This is helping with the war, remember? No, don’t say anything. I’m coming with you.” She clicked her tongue before he could argue further, and he sighed instead and tightened his arm around her. “Besides, I want to see that big lake you talked about.”

He huffed, smiling despite the heavy weight in his heart. “I will take you there.”

“And the huge trees.”

“Alright.”

“Scalding Spear, too, even though the commander’s an ass.”

Kotallo chuckled when she shot him a cheeky grin. “What else?”

“The Memorial Grove. I want to see the Visions.”

“I want to see them, too,” he whispered, his chest aching as he remembered the last time he saw them. “They were already fading when I left. I hope that you will get to see them, hear whatever wisdom they have left to give.”

“I’m sure we will,” she said, before pressing their lips together. 

He lost himself in her kiss, in the love that poured out from her. His chest expanded as hope surged within him, pushing his fear of failing his tribe to the furthest corner of his mind. He didn’t know what exactly awaited them in Barren Light, and it should have been ridiculous to feel strong in the face of overwhelming adversity just because he would have Aloy by his side, but strong he felt, as if he could take on anything and win. 

Aloy gently broke the kiss and looked up at him sheepishly. “Um, I guess now would be a good time to show you what I’ve been working on.”

His eyebrows leapt. “Now?”

“Yeah,” she said, biting her lip, suddenly looking worried. “I probably should’ve asked you first before—,” she groaned, walking him backwards and pushing him down to sit on the edge of the bed. She crossed her arms and straightened, looking down at him with that same worried expression, before throwing her arms out. “Fine, I’ll just show you.”

Kotallo chuckled, watching her fondly as she went to one of the storage chests and pulled out a satchel. Whatever was inside clinked as she walked back to him and set the satchel on the bed. She toyed with the rope before taking a deep breath as she finally opened it, and pulled out the metal headpiece that he wore with his Marshal armor. One by one, she took out pieces of his armor and laid them down carefully on the bed, her eyes darting to him each time to gauge his reaction.

He stood up slowly, a mass of emotions lodged in his throat he felt he could choke. “You—,” he cleared his throat. “You repaired my armor.”

“As much as I could, yeah,” Aloy said softly, waving her hand. “I’m not the best, but I know a thing or two. Rost didn’t go near the settlements, he wouldn’t talk or trade with anyone, so he had to learn how to repair or make his own armor. And he taught me how, so…” She pointed to his tassets, much shorter now than they had been. “I had to replace all this with new leather and fur, since the bamboo weaves were so damaged. I think I got the colors right.”

“You did,” he said quietly, smiling as he traced his fingers along the belt. He remembered that the spiky machine parts had also been damaged. Aloy would have had to rip all of them out, and she replaced them with new machine plating that would cover the sides of his waist and hips. “Sentekka always told me that my tassets were impractical.”

“Yeah, they were way too long,” she said, smiling now, too, now that she knew Kotallo wasn’t angry she’d repaired his armor without telling him. “I replaced the linen lining the inside of your belt, and the soles on your sandals. Your pauldron and vambrace didn’t need much repair, but your cuirass…”

She had replaced the spikes around the neck with the blue beads that used to hang at the front, and lined the back with yellow-dyed fur. At the front, there was new machine plating that would protect almost his entire chest. “You removed all my spikes,” he commented, arching a brow playfully at her.

“Why did you have a lot of spikes in your armor?”

“Most of our soldiers have spikes in their armor. It is meant to intimidate and frighten our enemies.”

Aloy snorted. “Like you need the help.”

He grinned, as he reached for her hand. “You thought I would be angry. No, don’t hide from me,” he said when she started to bury her face in his chest. Her face was red when she looked up at him, and his heart swelled with affection for her. He shook his head, sighing again to release some of the weight in his chest as he stroked the shell of her ear. “How could I ever be angry with you?”

“You’ve gotten angry at me loads of times,” she said, raising her eyebrows, wrapping her arms around his waist. She stared up at him, searching his eyes. “When do we leave?” she whispered.

Kotallo leaned his cheek against the top of her head and breathed in deep. “We’ll need a day to prepare. Gather as much information about Barren Light, the troops stationed there, and—,” he sighed, “—and how many of my people were taken there.”

“I’ll be with you,” she said against the base of his neck.

They held each other close in the space that had become their own, indulging in the peace they had found there and in each other until they grew tired of standing and moved to the bed. 

It would be a while until they found peace again.

Chapter Text

Kotallo woke in the dark, to the soft murmurs Aloy breathed against his chest. He blinked blearily down at her sleeping face, flexing his arm and fingers as he waited for his eyes to adjust. She sighed when he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, her breath tickling his skin. Nuzzling his chest, she lifted her bare leg so that it lay on top of his.

It had been difficult to find rest last night after the disturbing revelation of Tekotteh's plans for his tribe, his turbulent thoughts keeping him awake even after his and Aloy's attempts to tire him out. He couldn't help but think of the people he knew would have fought back. Would they be in Barren Light, imprisoned like Atekka was? Or did they perish during the short-lived rebellion Vanasha mentioned? Or perhaps they hadn't fought back, at all. Perhaps, like Yarra, they had submitted to Tekotteh's rule.

In the end, it had been Aloy's gentle fingers running through his unbound hair that had finally coaxed him to sleep. 

But his mind quickly picked up where he had left off the night before, working to recall his arduous journey from Barren Light to Sunfall. Images of the Daunt flashed before his eyes, memories of passing through the forward base the Tenakth had built, but eventually abandoned when their forces had been called back. 

His scalp had burned by the number of times they had pulled him up roughly by his hair after tripping over his feet. The handful of trail mix they gave him each day had not been enough to sate the gnawing ache in his stomach. They had only given him water when he begged for it, when his throat became as dry as the land they walked on.

He remembered being shoved into a car by his escorts, a car that had lifted them high into the air, and the sound of grinding gears.

Kotallo let out a harsh breath. Why wasn’t he remembering anything useful?

Aloy stirred. “How long have you been—,” she stopped, shifting her face so that she was yawning against his skin. She sniffed as she settled back on his chest, blinking up at him owlishly. “Sorry. How long have you been awake?”

“Not long,” he said, squeezing her shoulder and pressing a kiss on her forehead. “What time is it?”

Aloy tapped her Focus and winced, her eyes narrowing into a squint. “It’s just before dawn,” she said, tapping her Focus again and frowning at him. “I don’t know why you still ask. You’re always up before dawn.”

Kotallo tried, but couldn’t muster a smile. There was no time to waste. If Aloy was already awake, they could get started. “We should move.”

“Yeah, okay.” Aloy pushed herself off his chest into a sitting position, groaning as she stretched, her joints popping audibly. Kotallo glanced at her, allowing himself a moment to admire her back and the way her lithe muscles rippled. He stood up from the bed and picked up his leather armor and pants off the floor. 

Aloy stood up as well and started pulling up her own pants. “You won’t wear your Marshal armor yet?” she asked. 

“Later, just before we leave,” he said as he put his fur tassets on. “There are still things we must do. Plan our route, re-stock our supplies. Perhaps see if Varga has any new weapons we can purchase from her.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling his boots on. “Before any of that, we must find Avad. Or even just Vanasha.”

“I know where they made camp.”

Kotallo raised his eyebrows. “Are they so near that you’re able to see them with your Focus?”

Aloy frowned as she pulled her top on. “Hm? Oh, no. I asked them where they were camped before following you last night.”

“I’m glad one of us had the presence of mind to do that,” he muttered. 

Aloy approached him and cupped his cheeks with her cold hands, her lips pursed as she looked down at him with the same stern expression from last night when she told him to stop ‘beating himself up’. 

He nodded reluctantly as he took her left hand from his cheek, squeezing her fingers lightly. “Will you tie my hair back for me?”

“Of course,” Aloy said as she knelt on the bed behind him, making quick work of his hair. When she was done, she let her fingers trail down over his cheeks, over his neck, and further down until both of her hands rested on his shoulders. 

He lifted her hand to his face, kissing her knuckles as he stood up from the bed. “Come. The sooner we speak to Avad, the sooner we can leave.”

The wind whistled past as they exited their lodging, making it difficult to close the door shut behind them. Pitchcliff was ghost-quiet as they walked to the arch, its inhabitants still sound asleep. The only sound were his and Aloy’s footsteps, though they were muffled by snow. The braziers lining the path had long gone out, leaving the path mostly dark. Kotallo studied Aloy from his periphery as they walked, his arguments from the night before on the tip of his tongue. She noticed him staring and narrowed her eyes at the expression on his face. 

Aloy softened at Kotallo’s defeated sigh as she led him south, past the strange contraptions that stood tall in the middle of the field. As they neared the point where the tributaries merged into the mainstem, Kotallo spotted three small, white tents set up on the grass right next to the mountain, with numerous guards surrounding the tents. They straightened and drew their swords when they spotted him and Aloy approach. Kotallo glanced behind him, the sound of footsteps reaching his ears, and saw that even more guards had crept behind them, their swords already drawn and pointed towards them.

“We’re here to see Avad,” Kotallo said over his shoulder, only loud enough so that the nearest guard could hear him. He doubted they would appreciate it if he announced that the Sun Prince was here, for any random passerby to hear. "Or Vanasha, if she is here."

"I’m right here, Marshal."

The guards behind them parted for her, but did not sheathe their weapons. He could see the sly grin on her face clearly now that she was without her veil, her short dark hair bound and exposed without her shawl. Vanasha sashayed towards them, her long skirt swaying with each exaggerated movement of her hips. Kotallo suspected it was all for show, but he didn't understand why she felt the need to do so. 

"I knew you two would come at dawn," Vanasha said, looking at the guards and waving them away. "I hoped you'd prove me wrong—Sun knows I need my beauty sleep—but," she shrugged, "I'm hardly ever wrong." She gestured over to the tents, bid them to follow her with a nod of her head. “I have just the thing you need for your trip, but you’ll have to wait until the prince rises. I’m certain he would want to be present for this meeting.”

Kotallo’s eyebrows leapt. He glanced at Aloy, and she seemed to be just as surprised that Avad was still in bed, even though most of his guards were already awake. The clan commanders in the west rose with their soldiers, even Hekarro had done so. 

Kotallo dragged in a breath. “And when should we expect the prince to wake?” he said tightly.

Vanasha shot him an amused smile as she led them to the base of the mountain where a square table made of wood had been set. “You’ll ruin your handsome face if you keep frowning like that. Don’t worry,” she said as she lifted her hands, stopping Kotallo from speaking. “I’ll wake him now.”

Aloy scoffed as Vanasha walked away, crossing her arms as she leaned her hip against the table. “I thought those of the Radiant Line rose with the great Sun,” she murmured with a roll of her eyes.

“You know better than to believe in that nonsense,” Kotallo said, placing his hand on his hip and taking another deep breath as he walked to the other side of the table.

But they didn’t have to wait long. Avad came out of one of the tents wearing the dark cloak he wore the night before, his hair still tousled from sleep. He held a fist to his mouth to cover a yawn, and nodded to his men as he walked towards them, Vanasha trailing close behind him. The rising sun cast shadows over his face, highlighting the dark circles under his eyes.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I have never been one to rise early, and sleep has been…difficult to come by these past few days.” He looked at Kotallo, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards. “I can imagine that it was the same for you last night.” 

Kotallo didn’t return his smile. “Yes.”

Avad paused, his half-smile frozen on his face. He cleared his throat as he turned to Vanasha, nodding to her and gesturing to the table. “Vanasha, if you would, please.”

She stepped in front of Avad carrying two hefty scrolls, arching her brow as Aloy pushed herself off the table to stand beside Kotallo. Vanasha unrolled the scrolls on the table, and picked up small rocks off the ground, placing them on the corners. 

Kotallo recognized them almost immediately. One was a map of the Daunt, depicting its great canyons and the long winding river leading to the lower left corner. The other scroll was a top-view diagram of Barren Light, with its vast courtyard, tall towers, and twenty-four large cells. Large enough to shove at least ten people inside, just like the ones at Sunfall. A prickling sensation crawled up his spine. 

He could almost see them in his mind.

“This is Barren Light?” Aloy said, her voice soft, almost as if she was talking to herself.

Vanasha nodded. “And a map of the Daunt. Unfortunately, neither of these scrolls are up-to-date.” She gestured to the map. “For example, this doesn’t show the base that the Tenakth built after they breached Barren Light.”

Kotallo pointed to the diagram of Barren Light and tapped the sketch of the two cells on the north wall nearest the gate leading west, his memories of the battle there and the last time he was at the fortress intermingling. “These two were destroyed.” He tapped on another two on the opposite wall, on the second floor. “These, as well.”

“What is this?” Aloy asked, dragging her finger on top of a thick black line running diagonally from the top right of the map.

“It is the ropeway for the hand-operated cable car—the only way one can get down into the Daunt,” Avad said. 

Aloy glanced at Kotallo, but he didn’t look at her. He frowned as he thought, struggling to remember, dragging his finger on the map the same way Aloy had. “There was a small camp…” he said, tapping the end of the black line right beside a wall of rock, right across the river. “Over here.” He looked up at Vanasha. “Do you know how many would be stationed there?”

Vanasha shrugged. “Only a few soldiers, both above and below. It would be easier if the car was above. Easy to take the soldiers out even with just the two of you.” Avad’s eyes widened at her, but she didn’t seem to notice. “If you get there, and the car is below…,” she trailed off with a thoughtful hum.

Aloy raised her eyebrows, waving her hand. “If it’s below…what?”

Vanasha pursed her lips. “They light a brazier to signal when the car needs to move. You’d need to take out the soldiers above and light the brazier yourself. They’ll send the car up to you, but someone will be in the car and if they spot you—”

“We will plan for it on the way there,” Kotallo interjected as he clenched his fist. He breathed deeply to calm the roiling in his gut, preventing the panic to make a home in his chest. He could think of the obstacles later. Right now, he needed to focus on gathering information. “How many of my people are in Barren Light now?”

“One hundred seventy-three,” Vanasha said quietly. “That was the initial count.”

Kotallo blinked, his eyes smarting as he pinned his gaze on the corner of the table to avoid looking at the cells. He didn’t want to imagine his people there, locked up, their bodies weakened from starvation and abuse. He didn’t want the vision of his people pressed tightly together, with no room to breathe, and covered in their own waste haunting him. 

No, he couldn’t lose hope here. He had to believe that they would be strong.

“Pardon me, but did you say that it will be just the two of you going to Barren Light?” Avad asked with a pinched expression, his eyes darting back and forth between Kotallo and Aloy. He took in a sharp breath when they didn’t respond. “How will you free all of the imprisoned with just the two of you?”

“I can’t see how you can succeed without an army of your own,” Vanasha added, crossing her arms in front of her. “There are two platoons stationed at Barren Light—possibly three.”

Aloy clicked her tongue as she rolled up the map of the Daunt. “We’ll figure it out. Besides, it's not like you have an army to spare,” she said, waving the map and tucking it under her arm when Avad nodded. “How long will it take for us to get there?”

“From Meridian, it would take a fortnight on foot. From here…five days, maybe—possibly a week,” Vanasha said.

Kotallo tuned them out as they discussed the route they had to take from Sunfall to get to the Daunt, his eyes tracing the diagram of Barren Light. He knew from experience that the only way into the desolate landscape to the west would be through the gates. The fortress’ walls were massive, blocking the entire mountain pass, stretching even over the river. 

Sneaking his people through was out of the question. It had been impossible to sneak thirty-seven people past the Unflinching Watch without first taking out the soldiers there, but it had been easy to do so because there were so few. 

But Vanasha had said at least two platoons would be at Barren Light. He and Aloy couldn’t possibly take on that many Carja soldiers alone.

“Perhaps—,” Avad hesitated, disguising his voice with a cough. But they had heard him and he pulled his shoulders back when they looked at him, waiting for him to continue. The line between his eyebrows told Kotallo that he was unsure. “Perhaps you won’t need to bring an army. From what I know of the Tenakth, all of the members of your tribe are trained warriors, correct?”

“Yes,” Kotallo said, his eyes widening.

“Then perhaps you need only to free them. Point them to a weapons cache?” Avad’s gaze flitted to them one-by-one, gauging their reaction. “Have them fight as well.”

He cleared his throat when no one spoke. “Of course, I have not seen or participated in any battles myself,” he said, his lips twitching as if to smile, only his attempt didn’t last long, choosing to fix his eyes on the table instead. “And I have always been more interested in studying history and the arts rather than…war strategies. So I apologize if my suggestion seems—”

“It is a good plan,” Kotallo said, the knot in his chest loosening. 

Avad turned his wide eyes to him, as if he was surprised that it had been Kotallo who had spoken. 

Kotallo didn't know Avad. He didn't know if he would turn out to be like his murderous father. But Avad had been nothing but forthcoming, and he was planning on going into the lands of his father's enemies without a second thought to his life, all so he could liberate his tribe.

"It is a good plan," Kotallo said again. It should have been his plan. He knew his people best. Even without weapons, they would fight to the death. "A sound strategy."

Avad’s face brightened, his smile genuine. 

“I hate to be that person,” Vanasha said as she lifted her shoulders, “but they might not be in any condition to fight when you get there.”

Kotallo smirked as he traced his fingers over the diagram of Barren Light, over the cells. “They will be ready,” he said simply. “They’re Tenakth.” 

They left Avad and Vanasha with the diagram of Barren Light, the map of the Daunt, and an additional map that depicted the route they had to take to get there. It was a five-day journey through desert and snow, and they would have to prepare accordingly.

Varga had given them new weapons—new spike throwers she had been working on. There were canisters as well, ones that could be attached to their spears to imbue their attacks with different effects. She had waved off their insistence to pay her, saying that the weapons were still untested and that it wouldn’t sit well with her conscience if she took their shards. 

“Just let me know if it works when we see each other again,” Varga had said, her endearing optimism making Kotallo smile.

They went to Vashad and Omas next, who shoved all of their excess bombs and traps to Kotallo and Aloy’s chests. “Bombing and trapping everything seemed to work well last time,” they had said with matching grins. They, too, declined their offers to pay.

Guhil had been frantic, handing them so many packed meals that they had to stop him. He had handed Kotallo a loaf of bread with a shy smile. “I tried baking my version of Mountain Trail Bread from how you described it before,” he had said with a shrug, his smile faltering. “I haven’t actually tasted it. Maybe I should—”

Kotallo had dodged the young cook’s frail attempts of snatching the bread back, touched beyond words by the thoughtful gesture. “I am certain it is delicious. As I’ve always said, I’ve enjoyed everything you’ve made for us.”

It was late in the afternoon when he and Aloy went back to their room, discussing their plans as they packed all of the necessities in two satchels. They had to leave some behind, wanting to be as light on their feet as much as possible.

When they were done packing, Kotallo brought out his repaired Marshal armor, laying them on the bed piece by piece. He reverently trailed his fingers over the new machine platings as Aloy stripped and began donning a new set of leather armor he hadn’t seen her wear before. He took out his pots of paints next, the ones given to him by both Varl and Zo, and the new ones he was eventually able to mix on his own. 

He stripped down to his shorts and folded each item of his Banuk armor, setting them on top of one of the tables in a neat pile. He wouldn't need them anymore where they were going. 

Armed with a damp cloth, he stripped his face and neck of paint, and propped his foot on the edge of the bed to begin painting his legs. Kotallo painted his stomach next, feeling Aloy’s eyes on him as he worked. 

She sat on the edge of the bed, her curious eyes wandering over his painted legs. “I didn’t know you had to paint everything. You only used to do your face.”

“We paint everything that our armor won’t cover. I would have painted my arms, but…” he trailed off with a grimace, lifting his stump.

“I can do it,” Aloy said as she stood from the bed. She winced as she gestured helplessly to him. “If that’s—that’s okay, right?”

Kotallo smiled, nodding as he picked up the pot of paint and placed it in her hands. “Thank you, Aloy.”

He showed her how much paint to put on her fingers and watched her as she painted his shortened left arm. It felt like a lifetime ago when he had stopped feeling uncomfortable whenever she touched his stump. He would never have allowed anyone to touch him like this. But now he craved her hands on him, her gentle touches bringing him comfort. 

She painted his right arm, too, as well as his back. When she was done, he pulled on his pauldron, lifting his right arm so that it slid to his shoulder, and clasped the small lock at the front of his chest so that it was strapped tight. He lifted his cuirass off the bed next, donning it with ease, but turned around so that Aloy could help him with the clasp. 

“Hm,” he heard her say thoughtfully. “I probably should have done something so the clasp was on the side.”

His eyebrows leapt. “Could you have?” he asked over his shoulder.

Aloy hesitated, leaning away to study the clasp, tilting her head to the side. “Uh, on second thought, I don’t think I’m skilled enough. I might ruin it,” she said with a chuckle. “Maybe we can ask your stitchers to do it once we get to the Clan Lands.”

Kotallo made a vague sound as he turned around, reaching for his vambrace and knuckle guard, handing them over to Aloy and nodding to her gratefully as she assisted him. He knew the stitchers would be able to modify the pieces of his armor so that he could get dressed on his own, but he knew that they would likely turn him away. They would see that he was maimed and think him unworthy of their craft.

But he didn’t share these thoughts with Aloy, knowing that it would only sour her mood. 

He put his sandals on next, stretching his feet to test the new leather soles. He dipped his fingers into the white paint again, his nose filling with the earthy scent of the pigment as he covered his entire face and neck. The Nora blue paint came next. This part he could do with his eyes closed. 

Aloy picked up his headpiece from the bed, her eyes moving from the metal in her hands to the top of his head. She frowned. "I can't figure out how to put this on you."

Sitting on the bed, Kotallo instructed her how to put the pins in his hair and how to tie the thin ropes behind his head. She wasn't happy by how the headpiece sat on his forehead the first time and insisted on doing it again, though he said he didn't mind. It took Aloy two more attempts before she was satisfied, smiling down at his head with her hands on her hips. Her smile shifted to something new as Kotallo stood, her eyes sweeping over his form. He wasn't sure if she was admiring him or admiring the work she did on his armor.

"You, of course," she said when he asked, rolling her eyes at him. She grabbed his hand and pulled him up on his feet. Pushing him towards the mirror hanging on the wall, Aloy grinned and said, “Marshal Kotallo.” 

Looking at his reflection while wearing his full Marshal armor was…strange. He looked much closer now to who he used to be, though his armor lost its spikes, and the jagged patterns on his face were painted in a brighter shade of blue. 

He was still missing an arm.

But he was wearing Hekarro’s colors. And, against all odds, he looked strong.

Kotallo chuckled as he returned Aloy’s grin through the mirror. “It is odd to hear you call me that.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’m no longer a Marshal. I haven’t been one for some time.”

“But these are Hekarro’s colors, right?”

"Yes," he said, his grin fading. “But he’s gone, Aloy.”

She frowned as she turned to face him, pursing her lips in thought. Her eyes narrowed in the way they did when she was choosing her next words carefully. She blew out a breath, her brow crinkling as she looked up at him. 

“He’s never truly gone so long as you fight for what he believed in, for the hopes he had for your tribe. And you’ll be enforcing his will when we go west, wearing his colors. Doesn't that make you a Marshal?” Lifting her hand, she tapped her fingers on the machine plate on his chest. “You carry him with you, Kotallo.”

Kotallo closed his eyes for a moment, tilting his head up as he drew in a long breath. He opened his eyes and swept Aloy’s hair back over her shoulder, letting his fingers linger on her jaw. “Like you carry Rost with you.”

She leaned into his hand. Her eyes glistened, even as she smiled. “Yeah.” Aloy dropped her hand from his chest and adjusted one of her leather pouches attached to her belt. 

“I have never seen you wear this before,” he said, taking a step back to study her leather tunic and her fur shoulder wrap covered in machine plates. Her leather pants were tucked into her boots. “It’s very similar to Varl’s armor.” She even had a hide drum resting on her chest similar to Varl’s, except hers didn’t have the All-Mother symbol on it.

Aloy shrugged. “It’s sturdier than the one Teb made me.”

“You are the only warrior I know who has more than one set of armor.”

“Nothing wrong with a little variety.”

“Aloy, you have four sets of armor.” He chuckled, watching her fidget. “Why are you blushing?” 

She sighed. “I have eight.”

“Eight?” he repeated, raising his eyebrows. “Why do you have eight? And why have I not seen the other four?”

“I have my favorites. I got a little excited when people started to trade with me. So I may have…,” she trailed off with a shrug, her face a little sheepish.

Kotallo clicked his tongue and wrapped his arm around her. The reminder of Aloy’s upbringing filled him with the familiar righteous indignation. She would have all the armor she wanted from here on out. 

Aloy placed her hands on his hips, wrinkling her nose at his chest plate. "I can't hug you when you're wearing this."

He huffed in amusement as he placed a kiss on her forehead. Stepping away from her, he picked up their satchels from the floor, and handed hers to her. His satchel was heavier than he liked, but he suspected that their supplies would only last until they reached the Daunt, before they would have to take time to re-stock. Aloy swung hers over her shoulder as well.

"Ready?"

He nodded. "Let’s go."

Pitchcliff was awash in the orange glow of the setting sun when they opened the door, filled with the sounds of life, steel, and metal. It had been uncomfortable to settle here when they had first arrived, feeling very much like the outsider that he was. But he had long gotten used to the air laden with smoke, the almost too-savory meals, and the riotous laughter that came every night as the workers drank their ale.

It was not home, and Kotallo might have been happier to stay somewhere more quiet, but it still saddened him to go.

"Did you know about this?"

"About what?" he asked, glancing at Aloy. She gestured in front of her, and he looked to where she indicated, inhaling sharply when he finally saw what she meant.

Erend, Varl, and Zo were standing next to the arch, watching them as they approached. Erend and Varl were fully armored and they each carried a satchel.

"Woah," Erend said, his eyes wide as he looked at Kotallo. He cut Kotallo off with a raised hand and a stern look. "Before you say anything… Well, don’t. Avad told me the plan and we’re coming with you."

Kotallo placed his satchel on the ground, not taking his eyes off his friends. He turned to Erend first. “But will you not be going to the Claim? To bring Avad to your sister?”

“I sent word to Ersa,” Erend said, waving his hand. “They’re picking him up in the morning.”

“I cannot ask you to abandon your duties for me,” Kotallo insisted.

“Buddy, I love you and all, but I’m not doing this just to help you, you know?”

“But the rebellion—”

“Weren’t you paying attention yesterday? Hammer to steel, if the Tenakth join Jiran, there won’t be a rebellion. It’ll be a slaughter.” Erend pointed his thumb at Varl. “Trust me, Barren Light’s where we’re needed.”

Kotallo turned to Varl and Zo, lifting his hand. “I cannot guarantee your safety,” he said softly, unable to keep the tremor from his voice.

“No, you can’t,” Varl said, smiling patiently. “You’re the one that said no one is truly safe until this war ends.” 

“And I would join you, if my feet weren’t swollen,” Zo drawled, gesturing to her sandaled feet. At Kotallo’s anguished expression, she placed her hand on his arm and offered him a smile meant to comfort him. “Do not despair. I will not be alone for long.”

He could very well be sending them to their deaths, far away from their homes and loved ones. But their faces were determined as they looked at him. Kotallo stared into their eyes one-by-one, his chest expanding as he took deep breaths. 

“You have my thanks,” he said, unable to find the words to convey just how grateful he was to have found his friends. “All of you.”

Erend huffed and turned away from them, walking through the arch. “Well, now that’s settled, we better get going if we wanna make it there in five days.”

“We’ll make it in three,” Aloy quipped.

“Three! Are you gonna make us sprint all the way there?”

Kotallo picked up his satchel off the ground, glancing towards Varl and Zo as he followed Erend and Aloy. They held each other close, gazing into each other’s eyes. 

“We’ll be okay,” Aloy said beside him. He turned to look at her and found her smiling confidently at him. “You’ll see.”

He adjusted his hold on his satchel, nodding hesitantly at her. “I hope you’re right.”

They passed the dark thicket of trees and made quick work of the shell-walkers that replaced the ones Aluki defeated on their way to Pitchcliff, and walked straight past the Banuk painting on the large rock formation without a second look. They climbed up the rocks to avoid detection by the snapmaws and chargers, and the deadly rockbreakers on the other side of the river, and waited for night to fall at the very spot where they had made camp before. 

At the dead of night, they braved the dusty path leading to the Unflinching Watch, deciding that taking the path behind the mountain range where stalkers lurked was far more dangerous than attempting to sneak past any Carja soldiers they might encounter. The watchtower was lit, but there were no guards standing watch by the pathway to the entrance of the tower like last time, and they passed through without issue. 

They were too far from the Shattered Kiln to see if it had been occupied, and the moon cast an eerie haze on the camp.

Sunfall was deathly quiet when they passed. Kotallo had half-expected the city’s inhabitants to still be awake, the thunderous cheers from his memories of the Sun-Ring echoing in his ears. Regardless, they didn’t stop moving until they were far away. 

They slept in shifts of two, taking advantage of the cool air of the desert. Aloy pushed hers and Kotallo’s bedrolls together when it was their turn to sleep. He shielded her from the worst of the sandy wind, insisting that it was alright if she wanted to set up the tent.

“I didn’t bring it,” she said, curling up against him.

They broke camp at dawn, evading machines and passing through more canyons. When the sun was at its peak, they found themselves trudging through thick snow. The wind howled as they took shelter in a cave that night, bringing out their bedrolls and blankets. After many attempts, only Erend had been able to start a fire. 

“I’m Oseram,” he said with a shrug as they all huddled close, greedy for warmth.

It was almost midnight on the third day that they reached an Old World ruin made of stones. Aloy walked ahead of them near the wall as she tapped her Focus, before dropping to a crouch, signaling for all of them to do the same. 

“How many?” Kotallo whispered.

“Seven.”

Erend brought out his hammer. “We can take ‘em.”

Kotallo shook his head. “We cannot alert the guards below.” Erend frowned, but nodded. Kotallo turned back to Aloy. “Is the car there?”

“Yeah, it’s there,” she said with a nod.

Varl sighed in relief behind them. “So, how do we do this?”

Kotallo pointed to a large opening in the wall of the ruin, near the top, damaged by time and wind. “Are you two able to climb through there? Erend and I will approach from the path.”

Varl nodded. He moved to stand next to the wall, and dropped into a squat just below the opening. “Come on, Aloy. I’ll give you a boost.”

Aloy reached for Kotallo, giving his wrist a light squeeze, before heading to Varl. Kotallo watched as she reached the top and pulled Varl up to her, before they both disappeared inside the ruin. 

Kotallo turned to Erend as he brought out his spear. “Ready?”

“You bet.”

They stuck close to the walls as they walked, leaving their satchels next to a tree just before they rounded the corner. Laughter drifted over to where they were and light flickered ahead, casting shadows on the snow. 

“I’m hoping for a better day tomorrow.”

“Good luck with that. I heard Vezreh’s requested more slaves to help with, uh, what are they calling it?”

“Twilight’s Crest.”

“Wasn’t it called Morning Light last week?”

“Somebody vetoed it. That’s the name of the settlement that was destroyed by a thunderjaw. Bad luck, they said. Where are you going?”

“To take a piss! By the Sun, you hound me more than my wife does!”

Kotallo tightened his grip on his spear, holding his breath. Footsteps and the clink of metal grew closer. The Carja sentry that appeared was without his helmet and his annoyed expression morphed quickly into one of shock, his eyes widening at the sight of two encroachers. He opened his mouth to shout, only to cough out blood as Kotallo impaled him with a spear to the gut.

Kotallo roared as he gave a hard yank, kicking the sentry off his spear. 

“What—”

Erend ran past Kotallo with a bellow, his hammer high in the air. He smashed the head of the nearest soldier against the wall, his blood splattering against stone. The soldier's body grew limp instantly, his face crushed beyond recognition when Erend pulled his hammer back. Another sentry drew his sword but Aloy jumped from the ruin, landing squarely on his shoulders and piercing the sentry at the base of his neck with her spear. 

Kotallo sprinted to another guard, frantically aiming an arrow at Kotallo when he spotted him. The arrow flew and Kotallo knocked it away with the shaft of his spear. He dodged the guard's feeble punch, and stabbed him right below his armpit. Kotallo quickly turned, just before a sword sliced through the air, hitting the machine plate on his pauldron with a loud clang. He pushed his spear upwards, in between the sentry’s arms, and rammed the head of his spear under the man’s chin so hard that the point came out at the top of his head. 

He whipped his head around to check on the others and blew out a breath, finding all of the sentries dead and his friends alive. “Any injuries?” he asked.

“Nope,” Erend said as Varl and Aloy shook their heads. “These guys didn’t see us coming.”

Kotallo realized that Erend was right as he swept his gaze over the bodies. They were all without helmets, some of them didn’t even have their full armor on. “We had the element of surprise,” he said, clenching his jaw.

These men hadn’t even been fully armored, and they had gutted them like pigs.

“I don’t like that look,” Erend murmured as he approached Kotallo, shaking his head at him. “We had to do it. If even one of them had survived, they could’ve warned the others.”

Stowing his spear, Kotallo sighed and nodded at Erend. 

Varl approached the wooden platform next to the car and peered down below. “Can’t really see anything from here, but it doesn’t look like they heard any of that.”

Kotallo and Aloy moved to stand next to him as Erend went back to retrieve his and Kotallo’s satchels. The Daunt was dark and silent. The only thing visible were the inky outlines of the great canyons and blue lights from machines that barely pierced through the thin mist that shrouded the valley below.

“Can your Focus see what's down there from this height?” Kotallo said, glancing at Aloy. 

She shook her head. “We’re too high up.”

Kotallo dragged in a breath, his lips pressed into a line as he looked past them and to the car. “Let’s keep moving,” he said as Erend approached them and handed Kotallo’s satchel to him. 

“Arrows at the ready. Be ready to fire once we’re in range,” Kotallo said to Aloy and Varl once they entered the car. They nodded to him as they stowed their spears and brought out their bows. Kotallo turned to Erend and gestured to the huge wheel at the back of the car.

“Alright,” Erend said, dropping his satchel to the floor of the car and propping his hammer against the railing. He rotated his shoulders and stretched his arms, grinning at Kotallo as he took hold of the handle sticking out from the wheel. “Time to get crankin’.”

Chapter Text

It didn’t take long for the cable car to reach the bottom of the ropeway and eliminate the sentries below.

“Five guards,” Aloy said, nocking an arrow. 

Kotallo climbed up the railing. “Get ready.”

Two of the sentries were already looking up, their mouths falling open. “We’re under—”

Varl’s arrow found purchase in the first one’s throat. He grabbed another arrow with impressive speed, but Aloy beat him to it. Her arrow hit the second sentry in the chest. The sentry fell on his knees with a grunt, before toppling over the side, his body falling to the ground below.

A third sentry appeared from one of the makeshift tents. Kotallo leapt from the railing with a roar and landed a mighty kick on the sentry’s chest. The sentry fell with Kotallo’s full weight on top of him, his ribs caving in, and Kotallo rammed the point of his spear right between his eyes.

Kotallo looked up just in time to see another sentry fall from Aloy’s arrow as Varl landed a hard punch on the fifth’s face, knocking his head back, giving time for Varl to wrest the sword from the soldier's hand and slit his throat. The soldier fell on his back, choking on blood that was quickly gushing from the wound. It pooled around his head, and eventually his twitching stopped and his gasping quieted.

That was the last of them.

The four of them were quiet as their eyes swept over the ground, the iron scent of blood filling their noses as they regarded the bodies littered around them. Like the sentries above, these soldiers had been similarly unprepared for the suddenness of their assault.

Aloy crouched next to one of the bodies with a frown. “Anyone else feel like this was too easy?”

“That’s because the Carja think this war is as good as finished,” Erend said, disgust coloring his tone as he exited the cable car with their satchels over his shoulders. “But we’re gonna hammer it in their heads that we’re still here.”

Kotallo brows drew together, his mind turning as he recalled the conversation they happened upon before eliminating the sentries above. “We’re going to have to avoid this Twilight’s Crest.”

“Stupid name, if you ask me,” Erend muttered.

Aloy took her satchel from Erend and pulled out the map. They gathered around her as she unrolled it. “Okay, where is it?”

“It would be around here. West of the river,” Kotallo said. He traced the path from where they were at the bottom of the ropeway to a path alongside the canyon opposite of the settlement. “We pass through here and continue on this side of the river until we find a good location to move to the other side undetected.”

“We should split up to save time,” Varl said as he tapped on the widest part of the river that was next to Barren Light on the East side, just before its border walls. “Erend and I can go here. You and Aloy can scope out the other side.”

Kotallo pursed his lips. “Your plan is sound,” he said. They would be too far away to signal each other in case the other party needed reinforcements. But they were losing time. It wouldn’t be long before the enemy found the bodies they’ve left behind. “We’ll decide on a rendezvous point ahead and meet before the sun sets.”

There was nothing but the sounds of the night as they made their way further down to get to the river. The branches of the trees swayed with the wind, each movement making Kotallo feel on edge. But nothing jumped out at them. Not yet.

They didn’t use the bridge to cross the river, finding a shallow part to cross instead. The bridge was too open, and even under the cover of night, they didn’t want to risk being spotted.

The path alongside the canyon was devoid of trees or tall grass, and they hurried along, their bodies low to the ground. Kotallo looked across the valley towards Twilight’s Crest when they passed. It was still too dark to see anything, and the settlement itself was also dark. There were no braziers or torches. The settlement was empty. 

Scroungers and lancehorns waited for them at the bottom. Easy enough to kill between the four of them. 

Aloy twisted her spear and the mechanical whirr of the last scrounger dying filled the air. 

That’s when they heard it. 

A single voice, barking orders from a distance, and the sound of footfalls marching in-sync.

Kotallo dropped to a crouch and signaled the others to do the same. They crossed the river and crept up the path, hiding in tall grass, until they were next to a bridge. Kotallo barely bit back a gasp.

There were Carja soldiers, at least fifty of them, marching in a line. Beside them was another line, this time of Tenakth, bruised and battered, their faces and bodies missing their paint save for a few streaks that stubbornly clung to parts of their skin. Even in the dark, Kotallo could see that they were thin, their cheeks gaunt; shadows of themselves. Their hands were bound with thick rope.

They were too late. His people were going to be sacrificed in the Sun-Ring. They’ll spend the night in the dark as their fear tripled, feeding off the fear from the other prisoners. Their last hour would be spent watching prisoners kick and scream as they were taken away, listening to the delighted cheers of the Carja above them. This was it. He was going to die, his face and body crushed under a behe—

Kotallo jolted at the feel of hands holding him.

“Steady now,” Varl said, his hand circling around Kotallo’s wrist.

“We’ve got you, buddy,” Erend muttered as he squeezed Kotallo’s shoulder.

“Look at me, Kotallo,” Aloy whispered. She pressed her fingers on his cheek until he finally turned his head. “You’re okay.”

He dragged in a breath as quietly as he could as he stared into her eyes. Green, brighter than the fields of Plainsong. Erend’s hand was heavy on his shoulder, Varl’s was warm on his wrist. Realizing that he had been trembling, Kotallo took in another long breath. He wasn’t in Sunfall. He was here in the Daunt. He had come to free his people, and he couldn’t fail them. 

“I’m alright,” Kotallo said to her after a moment. He turned to Varl and Erend. “I’m alright.”

When they let him go, their hands still hovering around him, Kotallo looked up again. The end of the line was nearing, and he had to make a decision: Do they try to save these prisoners and risk the main forces at Barren Light finding out? Or do they let them go, save their strength for making sure they get Atekka out safely?

But their presence would be discovered no matter which option he chose. They’d only have to look at the bodies they left in the camps to know that someone was coming for them.

Kotallo reached toward his spear. The others wordlessly followed his example, gripping their weapons in tight fists. 

But one of the prisoners near the end of the line dropped to their knees before they could move. The prisoner’s lips were chapped, dry as the chipped teal paint still on his cheeks.

“Hold!”

The procession stopped, their heads turning as the Carja soldier at the front started marching towards the back. He looked to be an officer, his armor a tad more elaborate than the rest, but not nearly as elaborate as Vezreh’s had been. 

The officer let out a sound of frustration. “You,” he said, poking a finger in the chest of one of the Carja soldiers at the very end. “Get rid of this one and carry it to the hole when you’re done.”

“No!”

A blur of muscle barreled to the back of the line, eliciting gasps and breaking their formation. Two Carja soldiers tackled him before he could get to the officer, the skin on his chin breaking as he crashed into the ground. Even without his headpiece and the white paint that usually underlined his eyes, Kotallo recognized him immediately.

“Arokkeh,” he breathed. But if Arokkeh was here, then who was leading Fall’s Edge?

“You again.” The officer kissed his teeth, not moving any closer to Arokkeh struggling on the ground. “You’ve caused enough trouble. Take it to the hole, as well.”

“Uh, sir? Don’t we have orders to keep as many of them alive as possible?”

“The commander will understand. This one’s been causing too much trouble to keep around. Meet us back in Twilight’s Crest when you three are done.”

The rest of the soldiers continued their march, jabbing their weapons on the prisoners’ backs when they didn’t move right away, their defeated gazes trained on Arokkeh as he continued to fight against his the two Carja soldiers on his back. They didn’t move away from him. Even weakened as Arokkeh was, they had difficulty pinning him down. 

“Just stab him in the eye or something,” one of them on the ground yelled once the procession had moved on. The first soldier drew his sword.

“Put that away before you stab one of us!” yelled the other.

“Sun and Shadow, make up your damn minds!”

Kotallo roared and leapt from the tall grass. He sprinted past Arokkeh towards the soldier whose eyes had widened, his sword frozen in air. Kotallo stabbed him with his spear, driving the point of the blade far into the soldier's unprotected mouth.

"Oh no, you don't," Kotallo heard Erend say behind him just before the loud thwack of his hammer and the sickening crack of bones breaking. 

When he turned around, both soldiers were bleeding on the ground, with Varl and Erend on either side of Arokkeh. He was staring up at Kotallo like he was a ghost, his eyes moving from his feet to his stump, until they settled on his face. 

"Marshal Kotallo?" he whispered, his eyes wide. "Is that really you, or…a-are you some sort of Vision?"

Kotallo smiled sadly, stowing his spear behind him as he approached. He took the Carja’s sword from the ground, cut Arokkeh’s bindings, and held out his hand to him. "Find out for yourself."

Arokkeh stared at Kotallo's hand, clasping it hesitantly. He allowed himself to be pulled up, his free hand automatically reaching up to touch Kotallo's left shoulder, only for him to stop as his eyes fell on the linen-covered stump. His hand hovered in the air as he continued to stare.

Kotallo let go of Arokkeh’s hand and placed it on his shoulder. "Do not be afraid," he said drolly, the corner of his mouth lifting. "It isn't contagious."

Arokkeh rubbed his head, his hand tousling his matted tuft of hair. "We all thought you were dead. How did you survive your wounds? The Sun-Ring?"

"It's a long story, and I'm afraid we can't get into it now." Kotallo gave his shoulder a brief shake until Arokkeh finally lifted his gaze from his stump. "Tell me. Is Commander Atekka alive and well?"

Arokkeh scoffed. "She is alive, but I wouldn't say any of us is we—"

"Kotallo."

They all turned to look behind him. Aloy was kneeling next to the Lowland soldier, still on his knees, his eyes half-lidded. He hadn't moved at all. 

"Daxx!" Arokkeh cried as he pushed past Kotallo. He fell to his knees, his hands hovering just above the soldier's cheeks. Arokkeh looked at Aloy, but she shook her head. The soldier was dead.

This close, and with hardly any paint left, Kotallo could see that he was young. He barely had any ink on his arms. A fledgeling soldier who had just come out of training.

"I promised Nakko I'd look after him," Arokkeh muttered.

Kotallo sighed quietly, mourning the soldier he didn't know. But the sun was coming out and they hadn’t even begun scoping out Barren Light. He placed his hand on Arokkeh's shoulder. "We will take his tags with—," he stopped, his eyes flitting to the soldier's neck. "Where are his tags?"

"Taken by that Vezreh," Arokkeh said through gritted teeth, his voice dripping with venom. He started to quake under Kotallo's hand. "Souvenirs, he called them."

Kotallo’s heart raced. Souvenirs? If Vezreh kept the tags, was it possible that he had also—

No, now was not the time! Kotallo squeezed Arokkeh’s shoulder. "We will get them back. But first we—Arokkeh, you must focus!"

Arokkeh rolled his shoulder away from Kotallo's hand as he straightened. "They were taking us to Twilight's Crest. To rebuild," he said, his face a mask of unbridled rage. "But we'll free the others. Tear those Carja-scums apart."

Pointing across the bridge, Arokkeh fixed his crazed eyes on Kotallo. "Then we'll march to Barren Light and murder every single one of those pigs!"

Kotallo recoiled. This was not the same level-headed leader of Fall's Edge. "We cannot act rashly. We will free our soldiers in Twilight's Crest, but we must do it carefully. If the Carja in Barren Light discover our presence—"

Arokkeh cut him off with a harsh laugh. "Who are you to decide? Do you think you’re still a Marshal just because you wear Hekarro’s colors? You have no position here!"

"Neither do you," Kotallo growled. "You can't keep calling yourself a settlement leader when you're here, can you?"

Arokkeh stepped towards Kotallo. "What was it that you came here to do? Lead us to freedom?” he asked, his voice low and mocking. “Do you honestly believe anyone would follow a cripple?"

Aloy sprang up on her feet. "Hey!"

But Kotallo was faster. His hand darted out like lightning and wrapped around Arokkeh's thick neck. He pushed him backwards, kicking Arokkeh's ankles so he fell on his back with a yelp. Kotallo dug his knee onto Arokkeh's chest, pinning him in place.

"Woah!" Varl said, reaching out to touch Kotallo but stopped at Aloy's hard look.

"You wouldn't have been able to pin me down if I was at my full strength," Arokkeh gasped, pushing futilely against Kotallo's leg. "Not with only one arm."

"I'll drag you to the ring myself when this is all over. Teach you some respect," Kotallo snarled, putting more of his weight on Arokkeh's chest. "Follow me or don't. But I will not have you risk the commander's life because of your thirst for revenge."

"You don't know what it was like! They treated us worse than animals!"

Just like that, all of Kotallo's anger deflated. He lifted his stump and kept it lifted even when Arokkeh wrenched his horrified gaze away. "I know best what it’s like," he said softly.

Kotallo grasped Arokkeh's head, and leaned closer. "You will have your revenge. We all will. But vengeance is nothing without a plan. Rage alone cannot win a war."

Arokkeh huffed, but it came out a wheeze. "You sound like a Chaplain."

When Arokkeh’s breathing slowed and his body stopped trembling, Kotallo stood up slowly and stepped away. He extended his hand, waited for Arokkeh to take it, and pulled Arokkeh off his back when he finally did.

"Technically, you outrank me here," Arokkeh said, closing his eyes briefly. 

Kotallo snorted. "You just said that I'm no longer a Marshal."

"But if I was right about that, then you were right to say that I'm no longer the leader of Fall's Edge." Arokkeh scowled as he stomped towards the nearest dead Carja and pulled out the sword from its scabbard. "Make no mistake, I'm taking my settlement back from Tekotteh and his band of traitors when we go back."

So he’s been taking over the settlements. That tyrant.

"We'll be taking it all back from Tekotteh, not just Fall’s Edge," Kotallo said. He turned to Varl and Erend. “I need you two to guard the exits. Make sure no Carja leaves alive. We can’t have them reporting back to Barren Light. Aloy, go with them.”

Aloy raised her eyebrows. "You sure you two can handle all of them on your own?”

“It won’t just be the two of us,” Kotallo said, turning to Arokkeh. “We’ll sneak inside, kill the guards, and free our soldiers one-by-one.”

Arokkeh nodded in understanding. “They’ll help us kill the other guards and free the rest.”

“Yes.” Kotallo looked up at the sky. “We have to hurry. I want to be done before day breaks.”

They made haste, splitting up and dashing towards Twilight’s Crest. Kotallo and Arokkeh entered the settlement from the south and nodded to each other before splitting up as well. 

Kotallo crept along the dilapidated walls with their fading blue and yellow paint, encountering the first two guards as soon as he rounded the corner. He was surprised to see a soldier from the Sky Clan, on his knees while his hands were still bound. With the guards’ backs turned, it was easy to reach around to twist the head of the first. Kotallo kicked the other one behind the knees, quickly brandishing his spear, and stabbing him through the back and out his chest. 

“M-Marshal?” 

Stowing his spear, Kotallo picked up one of the Carjas’ swords and cut the prisoner’s bindings. “Can you fight?”

“Uh—”

“I asked you a question, soldier,” Kotallo hissed.

The soldier’s eyes widened. “Yes, sir. I can fight.”

Kotallo handed him the sword. “Good. Free as many as you can. Report to the center of the settlement when this is over.”

It went on that way for the next few minutes. Kotallo would eliminate the guards, free the soldiers, hand them a weapon, and order them to report to the center of the settlement. Most of the soldiers he freed were from the Lowland Clan. Some were from the Desert, but he was surprised to see three more soldiers from the Sky Clan. After getting over their initial shock, the soldiers grabbed the weapon Kotallo offered them and went on their way, only casting his stump a passing glance.

When all of the guards had been killed, the Tenakth soldiers all warily appeared from hiding, their eyes darting from one to the other. They gathered at the center of the settlement as they were ordered to, their paints and armors in varying states of ruin, holding Carja weapons in their hands. They stared at Kotallo as he walked among them, their mouths and eyes wide open, just like Arokkeh’s had been when he’d seen Kotallo for the first time. He met each of their gazes with an arched brow, surprised that he felt nothing when they stared too long at his stump.  

“This is everyone,” Arokkeh said as Kotallo approached the front.

The sun was just starting to peek through the horizon. Excellent.

Aloy arrived with Varl and Erend, and the soldiers' grips on their Carja weapons tightened.

“At attention,” Kotallo said loudly. Their gazes immediately returned to him as they snapped their feet together, their backs ramrod straight, though the expression on their faces was still one of disbelief.

Good. The success of the mission was far more important to Kotallo than his pride, and he would have asked Arokkeh to take over if it was necessary, but he didn’t trust Arokkeh to prioritize Atekka’s safety over his rage. He didn’t want to waste time getting the soldiers in line if they had shown any indication that they wouldn't follow him, but he would. He’d defeat them all in single-combat if he had to. 

Thank the Ten he didn’t have to.

Erend shot him a grin, waggling his eyebrows, but Kotallo paid him no mind and turned to Aloy instead. “Could I see the map and the diagram, please?”

Aloy pulled out both scrolls and turned around to flatten them on top of one of the raised wooden platforms. “Okay, how are we doing this?”

“There is a path through here,” Kotallo said, tracing a path on the map next to the canyon north of Barren Light. The path was small, barely visible on the map. He tapped the two cells on the north curtain wall. “But we need to know if these cells have been repaired.”

“They haven’t finished,” Arokkeh said. “There’s still a gap there.” 

Kotallo hummed thoughtfully, tapping four parts of the map, right along the edges of Barren Light. “We need four squads.” He was tempted to let Varl and Erend lead two of the squads, since he was familiar with their tactics. 

But this was a Tenakth mission.  

“You and I will lead one squad each. I need two more squad leaders,” Kotallo said to Arokkeh, testing whether he was truly willing to follow orders now. "I’ll leave it to you to choose who.”

But Arokkeh only nodded. “As you command.”

They moved out of Twilight’s Crest shortly after, leaving five soldiers to take care of any other Carja that came to check up on the rebuilding. The rest moved across the river, and hid inside a ruin of the Old Ones. There were holes large enough in the ruin that the air inside didn’t become stale, but Kotallo imagined the smell of burnt wood each time he looked closely at its charred remains.

Barren Light would be expecting them back just before lights out, Arokkeh had said, after they split everyone into squads. Erend had scoffed, muttering angrily about the Carjas’ complacency, acting as if they weren’t in the middle of a war. A full frontal assault had been suggested. 

Kotallo had objected. The Tenakth soldiers were not at their full strength, they couldn’t hope to win with brute force no matter how lax the forces at Barren Light had become. 

Stealth, then, became their strategy a second time. 

The bombs and Varga’s prototypes were split between the four strike teams and, just before sunset, they moved out. 

Kotallo settled into a crouch in a dense thicket of bushes several meters away from the gap along the curtain wall and held up a fist next to his head. He turned over his shoulder and signaled the other strike team to move into position.

His team settled behind him, their eyes alert and weapons at the ready, though it would be a few more hours until they began their assault. Aloy crept up next to Kotallo and traced Barren Light’s border wall with her eyes, tilting her head up to look at the massive canyon that was too steep to climb. 

“There has to be another way,” she said.

“I told you, the gate is the only way West.”

Aloy shrugged. “The Old Ones could fly.”

He huffed, eyeing her with amusement. “If anyone today could figure out how to fly, it would be you.” She grinned and eyed his bare midriff, her fingers twitching on her knee. He shook his head and lowered his voice further. “Don’t do it, Aloy.” 

She rolled her eyes but continued to grin at him. “Are you excited?”

Kotallo frowned. “There is too much at stake right now for me to be excited.”

“I don’t mean this,” Aloy said, jutting her chin at the fort. “I mean, are you looking forward to going home?”

Kotallo tried to imagine what else had changed with his tribe since Tekotteh became chief. He was tempted to ask the five other members of his strike team, but feared that talking about it would bring down morale. Truth be told, a part of him didn’t want to know yet. He dreaded hearing the specifics of the monstrosities Tekotteh had committed against his own people. 

“More anxious than excited,” he admitted.

As night approached, the smell of hearty stew filled the air. They watched the Carja soldiers remove their helmets and put away their weapons, gathering near their white tents, oblivious of the dangers lurking in the growing shadows. Kotallo listened to their chatter and grumbles as they waited for the agreed time, taking note of any information he could pass on to Erend once the fighting was over. Soon, the torches and braziers all around the fort were lit.

It was time.

Kotallo advanced towards the Carja soldiers, sure that Aloy and the others were close behind him. He pushed one of them to the ground with an elbow to the face, stabbing the soldier through the head before he could make a sound. From his periphery, he saw that the other soldiers were taken care of in a similar manner, their bodies lying dead on the ground when he finally took a good look.

They approached the next group and dispatched them quickly like the first, but stopped in their tracks as they heard a lone voice shout.

“Intruders! Intruders! Intru—!”

Bells started ringing. Kotallo’s heart plummeted to his stomach.

Blood of the Ten!

“Go, go!” Kotallo hissed as he, Aloy, and the rest of their squad sprinted through the gap. 

Barren Light exploded with the sounds of fighting. Shouts rang in the air, metal clanged against metal. The ground shuddered and parts of the eastern curtain wall shattered, throwing bodies left and right as the strike teams outside used their bombs.

The Carja guards were at the battlements, shooting arrows at the fighting outside. “Strike them down!” Kotallo yelled, pointing at them. 

Kotallo dashed up the wooden walkway, letting Aloy and the others deal with the guards. He ignored the shouts of his name or title from the cells as he ran.

He can check on them later. Right now, he needed to find Vezreh.

Kotallo spotted him right away as soon as he reached the overlook at the top of the West gates, running out from the flanking tower.

“You!” Vezreh yelled, pointing a finger at Kotallo. “I know y—”

He didn’t let Vezreh finish, charging at him while he was mid-sentence, his spear pointed towards the Carja commander. Vezreh sidestepped him with a yelp, drawing his sword frantically from its scabbard. 

“The hero of Barren Light,” Vezreh said as they circled each other, his mouth split wide into a menacing grin. “I had heard you managed to escape the Sun-Ring, and I always knew—”

Kotallo charged at him again. This time, Vezreh parried Kotallo’s attack to the right, but left himself wide open. 

Now! Kotallo shoved Vezreh’s chest with his good shoulder, making him fall flat on his back. “You can’t kill me! I am the Sun’s—!”

Swinging his spear back around, Kotallo brought it down on Vezreh’s throat. Vezreh gurgled on his own blood, his hands hovering around his neck as his mouth moved with words he still wanted to say. Kotallo twisted his spear, silencing the lunatic forever. 

“Quiet, fool,” Kotallo said as he knelt over Vezreh, rummaging through the leather pouches on his belt. 

He let out a triumphant cry when he found the keys and sprinted down the wooden walkway.

“Marshal Kotallo!”

He turned at his name, almost dropping his spear when he saw the familiar shock of white hair. “Chaplain Dekka!” Right beside her was Atekka, gripping the bars.

Kotallo ran to them and dropped his spear on the ground. He fiddled with the lock until he found the right key. When he finally did, he pulled the cell door open and tossed the keys to the nearest soldier. “Free the others! Quickly!”

“Yes, sir!”

He turned to Atekka and thumped his fist on his chest. “Reporting for duty, Commander.”

The remaining teal paint on her cheeks cracked further when she smiled. “It’s good to have you back, Marshal.”

A good number of the Carja forces had already been killed by the strike teams when the rest of the imprisoned Tenakth were freed. The battle did not last long into the night after they had joined the fray. 

There were casualties on both sides, but Kotallo was dismayed to learn that there were some Tenakth who did not even get to join in on the fight, dying in the cells from starvation or some infected wound that hadn’t been treated before they had arrived. Kotallo knew it wouldn't do any good to dwell on it, and he understood that he was not to blame for their deaths, but it was difficult to ignore the insidious voice in his head that whispered how they would probably still be alive if only he had come sooner.

It became even more difficult when they had shown him the hole the morning after. The one the Carja officer had mentioned the day before, the one that Arokkeh had almost been sent to. They had dug a mass grave where they dumped the bodies of the dead Tenakth. The Carja hadn’t even bothered closing the hole, in case more of the prisoners died.

They spent the whole morning and half the afternoon getting the bodies out. Even after hours had passed, Kotallo could still smell the stench of rotting flesh. 

It would be another memory that would haunt his dreams, he was sure.

The sun dappled the sky in hues of pink as the rest of them turned their attention back to the living. Varl, Aloy, and some of the others still well enough to move hunted for food, while the others continued to care for the wounded. Erend wasted no time in inviting Atekka into a discussion about the rebellion and relayed other news regarding the war.

Erend had invited Kotallo too, but he refused. The excitement from the past two days and the lack of sleep were beginning to take a toll, and there was nothing about the war in the East that he could truly talk about since he hadn’t been a part of it.

Besides, there was still something of the dead Kotallo wanted to find.

He climbed up the wooden walkway and strode past Vezreh’s corpse without a second look. Stepping over loose bricks, Kotallo made his way towards the tower he saw Vezreh come out of earlier and pushed open the door. 

It was a large space with a window looking to the West, bringing in some of the dying light from the outside. There were elaborately designed rugs all around the floor, mostly in reds and yellows, and stairs leading to a second floor, perhaps even a third. 

Where would he have kept it?

“Looking for something, Marshal?”

Kotallo smiled tightly as he stepped to the side, letting Dekka in the room. “Chaplain,” he said with a nod. “I was hoping to find our soldiers’ tags. Arokkeh mentioned that they were taken.”

Dekka reached up and placed her hand on her chest. “Ah, yes. I would be glad to have mine back as well,” she said as her sharp eyes scanned the room. “Would you care for some assistance?”

He gestured to the room. “I would be happy for your company, Chaplain.”

They scoured the first floor for the tags, opening drawers and looking under the furniture. They even rolled away the rugs to see if there were any hidden doors on the floor. When they found nothing, they climbed up the stairs.

Kotallo’s eyes immediately went to the walls, pursing his lips when he found only paintings and decorative Carja weapons. Perhaps Vezreh had hidden it somewhere else.

They lit up some of the lamps hanging on the walls to see better. The second floor was decorated like the first, so he and Dekka followed the same process: rolled away the rugs, looked under furniture, opened all of the drawers. Kotallo even slid his hand along the walls to see if there were any hidden compartments. 

“Ah, I believe I’ve found them,” Dekka said after a while, smiling as she brought out a plain wooden box from one of the dressers. She lay the box on one of the tables so Kotallo could take a peek, and rummaged inside.

“And here is mine,” she said with a smile, holding up an old set of tags hanging from a thin chain. “Our soldiers will be happy to have these returned to them.”

“Yes, they would,” Kotallo murmured as he took his eyes off the tags, and scanned the room again. Perhaps he would do another sweep.

“Was there something else you were hoping to find?”

Kotallo huffed and bowed his head. “Nothing escapes you.”

Dekka folded her hands in front of her as she smiled patiently at him. “What were you really looking for, Kotallo?”

He dragged in a breath, his hand twitching as he fought the urge to reach for his stump. “Hekarro’s sword was taken here the same day I was. But it did not leave Barren Light with me when they took me to Sunfall. I thought…” he trailed off, feeling a sting behind his eyes. He cleared his throat as he looked up and trained his eyes on the farthest wall. “When Arokkeh told me that Vezreh had taken the tags as souvenirs, I thought that perhaps he had kept Hekarro’s sword here, instead of sending it to Meridian.”

“We’ve looked everywhere, haven’t we?”

Kotallo swallowed. “Yes. It isn’t here.”

Dekka tapped his arm and jutted her chin to the nearby bed. They sat on the edge, their weight sinking into the plush mattress. “What were you going to do with his sword if you found it?”

“Bring it back to the Grove once we take it back,” he said immediately, gripping his knee. “So that his legacy will live on.”

She tutted as she shot him a chiding look. “His sword wasn’t his legacy, Kotallo. Surely you know that by now.”

Kotallo shook his head. “Our tribe needs to remember him. His tags…were they—”

“They are at the Grove. Along with the tags of the other marshals’.”

“I’m surprised Tekotteh allowed them to stay there,” he scoffed.

“I insisted.”

He puffed out a breath and reached up to run his hand through his hair, forgetting that he still wore his headpiece. He dropped his hand back to his knee. “We should return the tags to our soldiers, Chaplain.”

Kotallo stood up and headed to the table, but paused at Dekka’s words. “Hekarro would have been proud of what you achieved today.”

“A soldier shouldn’t be praised for fulfilling their duty,” he said without thinking. He kissed his teeth as he picked up the box of tags. 

Dekka walked up to him. “After what you’ve been through, I wouldn’t have been surprised if you chose to cast us aside. Put that down for a moment, Kotallo, and let me speak.”

He closed his mouth, frowning as he reluctantly placed the box back on the table. 

“Good,” Dekka said with a nod. She placed her hands on both of his shoulders and gave him a little shake. “Now, answer my question. It was not duty that made you return to us. What was it?”

“Tekotteh needs to be stopped.”

“So you came back for revenge?”

Kotallo bristled. “No! I came back because… Hekarro wanted lasting peace for our tribe and I—,” he stopped, his eyes smarting again. 

He had spent so much time refusing to think of Hekarro since he was sent to the East to die. But Kotallo thought of him now: of his booming laugh, of the weight of his hand on Kotallo’s shoulder, of the conviction in Hekarro’s voice as he spoke of true unity between the clans.

He’s never truly gone so long as you fight for what he believed in.

“I want lasting peace for our tribe,” Kotallo rasped.

“As do I. As do all those who were loyal to him,” Dekka said, her eyes gleaming. “That is Hekarro’s legacy, Kotallo. So do not mourn the loss of his sword.”

He tilted his head and took a deep breath, his body trembling from the effort to keep his tears at bay. “Yes, Chaplain,” he croaked.

“Good. Now—”

“Kotallo?” Aloy’s voice drifted from below. “Are you in here?”

He coughed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Yes. I am with Chaplain Dekka.”

“There’s movement beyond the gates!”

His eyes widened. He and Dekka bolted down the stairs and followed Aloy to the balustrade facing West. 

“Over there,” Aloy said, pointing to one of the tall grass beyond the steps. 

“Fire a warning shot,” Kotallo commanded. 

Aloy brought out her bow and nocked an arrow. But before she could shoot, Kotallo held up his hand. “Wait.” 

He narrowed his eyes. Was that…?

“Show yourself,” Kotallo shouted, his voice echoing.

Two hands shot out of the tall grass in surrender. A familiar face peeked out, the remaining rays of the sun glinting off his slicked back hair. Kotallo’s eyes widened as he realized who it was.

Dekka placed her hand on Aloy’s shoulder. “Don’t shoot! He is one of us.”

“Kotallo?” Drakka yelled from below as he stepped forward, his mouth falling open. He dropped his arms and placed his hands on his hips as he chortled. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

Chapter Text

Kotallo was aware of their growing audience as Drakka sauntered up the wooden walkway. The man’s eyes were wide as they sought Kotallo’s, the black paint around them made them look larger than they actually were, almost comically so. Kotallo held himself still under Drakka’s scrutiny, though his skin prickled as if a hundred insects were crawling all over him.

He stopped a foot away from Kotallo, placing his hands on his hips, whistling low. “You look good,” Drakka said, his eyes making another sweep, briefly stopping at his stump, before making his way back up his face. “Really good.”

The urge to roll his eyes was strong. Instead, Kotallo turned to a nearby soldier. “Fetch Commander Atekka. Let her know that Drakka is here.” 

“The commander survived, then? Good,” Drakka said, dropping his arms as the soldier passed him. He turned to look at Dekka and gave her a brief nod. “Chaplain. Glad to see you’re still alive and kicking.”

“It will take more than this to defeat me or my spirit,” Dekka said, jutting her chin over the courtyard below.

“So you rescued them, huh?” Drakka asked, raising his eyebrows at Kotallo. 

“I had help.”

Drakka chuckled, turning his head to the side to take a good look at Barren Light and the Tenakth soldiers milling about. “Nice. The Hero of Barren Light, twice over,” he said. He looked back at Kotallo, nodding his head approvingly. “Very nice.”

Kotallo bit back a growl. He knew from reports that Drakka was a reliable soldier and an effective settlement leader, but all his encounters with the man had been like this. Drakka's face paint didn't help change Kotallo's opinion of him. He looked ridiculous, like a sad racoon.

A touch on Kotallo’s elbow made him turn. Aloy stood behind him, a small smile on her lips. “Come find me when you’re done?”

“I will,” he murmured as he watched her walk away. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go with her, fall asleep with her on his chest. But he had responsibilities and an attack to plan. 

Drakka watched Aloy walk away as well, before turning back to them. “Well, no wonder you’ve been resistant to my charms,” he said with a smirk. “I don’t have hair like blood.”

Kotallo was grateful when Atekka arrived just then, placing her hand on Drakka’s shoulder. “You’re late,” she said with a raised brow.

“Sorry, Commander, I had to take back a couple of our settlements to even have half the soldiers needed to storm this place,” Drakka drawled. “Thank the Ten we didn’t even need to.”

“Arrowhand?”

Drakka nodded. “Yes.”

“Good,” Kotallo interjected before Drakka could speak again. “That will make it easier to take back Scalding Spear.”

“How do you know I haven’t taken it back already?”

“It would have been the first thing you mentioned, if you had.”

Drakka snorted. “Yeah, alright.”

“Do we know what’s waiting for us there?” Kotallo asked, his eyes darting from Drakka to Atekka. 

“Hold on, don’t get too excited,” Drakka said, raising his hand. “I wanna know how you came to be here. It’s been—what, three months since Hekarro died? You’ve been gone since then, so how did you know to come back at the right time?”

Kotallo clenched his jaw. He would much rather get on with strategizing. His journey in the East was not something that could help them against Tekotteh, but he resigned himself to telling them. The sooner that they learn what exactly he’s been doing, the faster they’ll be able to plan. 

He spoke of the Sun King’s spymaster and how Aloy was sent to rescue him from the Sun-Ring. He told them about their journey to Pitchcliff and the state of the rebellion. Lastly, he told them about the Sun King’s sons, how the crown prince was dead and how the second son hoped to lead an army into Meridian to overthrow his father. Their faces were one of disbelief when he was done, except for Atekka’s who had heard most of this from Erend earlier. 

“You’ve been busy,” Dekka murmured. 

Drakka barked a laugh. “Yeah, I’ll say. Working with the Carja…” he trailed off with a frown. 

Kotallo narrowed his eyes at Drakka. He considered correcting him, but Kotallo’s retelling reminded him of something he hadn’t thought of again until now. “I stopped by Scalding Spear when I was being taken here,” he said, pointing to the floor. “My arrival interrupted what looked to be an argument between you and Yarra. What were you two arguing about?”

Drakka blew out a breath as he crossed his arms. “Weeks before Regalla attacked the Grove, Yarra had ordered further rationing of the water from the Wound in the Sand without an explanation.”

“Yes, we heard reports about that,” Dekka said.

“Well, the day Kotallo arrived in Scalding Spear was the day I found out why.” Drakka pressed his lips together in a firm line. “There’s no water.”

Kotallo paused, expecting Drakka to say more. But when he didn’t, Kotallo’s eyes widened. Dekka and Atekka looked surprised by the news as well. “No water in the Wound? I don’t believe that’s happened before.”

“You’re right, it hasn’t,” Drakka spat, his lips curling into a snarl. “Yarra knew about it for weeks and kept it from the clan.”

Suddenly Yarra’s words back then made sense. “What did Tekotteh offer her in exchange for her loyalty?” he asked, though he had an inkling.

“Water. Protection,” Drakka said, shrugging again.

“So that the clan survives as a whole,” Kotallo murmured.

Drakka scoffed. “Please. She kept the whole clan in the dark because she didn’t want anyone challenging her command.”

Atekka let out a heavy sigh. “First the Blood Choke, and now this. What is the world coming to?”

Kotallo frowned, taking in their downcast faces. He had to keep them on track. “We must focus on dealing with Tekotteh,” he said firmly. “Once he has been dealt with, we can go about fixing the Blood Choke and the Wound.”

“I heard about your plan from your Oseram friend,” Atekka said, arching a brow at Kotallo. “I led the rebellion against Tekotteh so that contenders for the throne could participate in our traditional rites, not necessarily so that I can take it for myself.”

They didn’t have five days of fighting for someone to emerge victorious. And besides, what if the victor was even worse than Tekotteh?

“I would rather have the throne go to someone that Hekarro trusted,” Kotallo hissed before thinking. He cleared his throat and smoothed his expression. “Commander,” he added. 

Atekka’s eyes flickered with emotion for just a moment, so fast Kotallo thought he might’ve imagined it. But whatever it was, was gone just as suddenly as it came, and her face became a blank slate. Kotallo could only guess at what she was thinking.

“Hekarro trusted you to lead the Lowland Clan after him,” Kotallo said, staring hard at her. “He would have trusted you with the tribe, I am certain.”

Dekka hummed thoughtfully. “The tribe might not accept another chief from the Lowlands so soon after Hekarro.”

Kotallo turned his attention to Drakka, lifting his brows pointedly. “The clans will follow their commanders’ example.”

Drakka’s eyes widened as he registered Kotallo’s meaning. He laughed. “Oh, so that’s your play, huh? Didn’t expect that.”

Kotallo hadn’t expected it, either. But he couldn’t place Atekka on the throne if she was surrounded by would-be traitors like Yarra. He needed someone Hekarro would have approved of to lead the Desert Clan. 

Drakka was hotheaded and irreverent; he scoffed at traditions. Kotallo didn’t care for his personality, but by all accounts he was the type of leader who looked after his people. 

“Are you doubting you can win?” Kotallo said, his voice taking on a challenging tone.

Drakka grinned, his full teeth on display. “I’ve fought for every single mouthful of water I’ve ever had. I know I’m a better fighter. And I’ll do a better job of making sure the Desert clan survives as a whole than Yarra ever did.”

“Good,” Kotallo said with a nod. “And I have faith that Jetakka will remain a voice of reason, should you ever need guidance.”

But Drakka’s grin fell and the others remained silent. Kotallo’s heart sank. The looks on their faces told him everything he needed to know. Kotallo clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he remembered the kind face of the older man. “How did it happen?”

“He was executed,” Dekka said softly, “for speaking out of turn. I was there when it happened.”

To execute a Chaplain… It was unheard of. Chaplains were revered by the entire tribe, their influence second only to clan commanders. If they had told him that Jetakka had died in battle, Kotallo wouldn't have been so shocked, but executed? 

Kotallo placed his hand on his hip as he searched his memories, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make sense of any of it. The man who took him in when he had just lost his parents couldn’t be the same man who now sat on the throne, executing his tribesmen on a whim. What happened to make Tekotteh this way? Or had he always been this depraved? 

No, that couldn’t be true. Because if it was, then that would mean that Kotallo had been a fool all along and that Tekotteh had managed to fool Hekarro too. 

But what did it matter? They were here now, and regardless of the answer Tekotteh still needed to be stopped. “May the Wings of the Ten carry him home,” Kotallo murmured, waiting for the others to repeat the sentiment before turning to Drakka. 

"Is Yarra in Scalding Spear?"

"Of course she is."

"Then our first mission would be to go there and supplant her as Commander of the Desert clan," Kotallo said, observing the others' reactions. "By eliminating Tekotteh's allies, we weaken him."

“It will not be easy to attack Scalding Spear," Atekka said, her eyebrows furrowed. She must’ve been trying to bring to mind the settlement’s layout. 

This would be easier if they had a diagram of the Desert capital, but his people did not make use of pens and parchments like the Carja did. “No,” Kotallo agreed. “There’s no cover in the desert. No way to sneak in.”

Dekka crossed her arms. “We wouldn’t have the element of surprise. Yarra and Tekotteh will find out we’re marching for Scalding Spear as soon as we leave Barren Light. Word will get back to them somehow.” 

“The only way in would be a frontal assault.” Drakka shrugged, but his frown belied the worry behind his eyes. “And I’m not just saying that because I’m from the desert.”

“Could we lay siege to the settlement?”

Kotallo hesitated to contradict Atekka, but eventually shook his head. “That would have been my first suggestion, since they would already be weakened by the lack of water. But the desert is treacherous, Commander. Our troops will only suffer.”

He relaxed when Atekka nodded. “You’re right.”

“As much as I dislike frontal assaults,” Kotallo began, looking at Drakka, “I think a direct approach might be the only strategy that will work. How many exits does Scalding Spear have?”

“Three. One to the northwest, one to the northeast, and then another one to the southeast.”

Kotallo looked down at the courtyard, making quick calculations in his mind. “We might have enough soldiers for all three exits. We still have bombs and we can craft mo—”

“No bombs,” Drakka interjected, making a sharp swiping motion in the air. “There are children in Scalding Spear!”

“There is no cover in the desert,” Kotallo repeated, enunciating every word through gritted teeth. “Without bombs, our soldiers will be sitting ducks with no way to fire back until we get inside.”

Drakka glared at him. “No. Bombs.”

“Cas—,” Kotallo stopped, inhaling sharply as he realized what he had been about to say: casualties were inevitable. Though it was true, the callousness of the thought was shocking, and that it had even crossed his mind appalled him. 

Kotallo turned away from them. “No bombs,” he said, lifting his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. The whole reason he returned was because he wanted to save his tribe. But what good would that be if he decimated almost an entire clan just because he was eager to win the war?

Hekarro would be ashamed of him.

“It has been a difficult day and last night was not an easy battle,” Atekka said softly. “We will reconvene tomorrow and, perhaps after we’ve rested, we’ll come up with a better way to take Scalding Spear.”

“Yes, Commander,” Dekka said. “Alright,” Drakka said at the same time. 

Kotallo turned to follow them down the walkway when Atekka’s voice stopped him. “I haven’t dismissed you yet, Marshal.”

He pressed his lips together, sure that Atekka would reprimand him for his temper. Chaplain Dekka shot him a pitying look, before walking away with Drakka. 

Atekka stepped forward, moving past Kotallo, and approached the wooden railing to look down at the courtyard. She was silent for a long while, her face glowing from the fires from the torches and braziers below, but Kotallo didn’t speak. The rigid line of her shoulders told him to listen to whatever she was preparing to say. 

Their soldiers below had stayed with their assigned temporary squads, huddling down for the night on bedrolls they had likely taken from the tents outside, passing around a bottle full of dark liquid. Most of the squads were a mix of all three clans. Though their paints were all still in various states of ruin, the dyed leathers and machine parts in their armors made them easy to tell apart. 

Magenta was the rarer color, only appearing twice in the courtyard. One of the soldiers from the Sky clan stiffened and turned away when his and Kotallo’s eyes met, embarrassed to have been caught staring. 

"What was the Sun-Ring like?"

Kotallo turned his attention back to Atekka, still looking over the courtyard.  He widened his stance and assumed a parade rest, though it was awkward to do with only one arm. "Enormous," he said, grappling for words to describe that ring of death. "Terrifying."

She looked at him then, a glimmer of sorrow in her eyes that he had seen it. That he had almost died in it. "More so because you were taken there alone."

"Perhaps," he said quietly, shrugging his right shoulder, though he thought that being sent to Sunfall alone hadn’t mattered all that much.

His fellow prisoners had been taken from their cells one-by-one. As far as he knew, the Carja didn’t do group sacrifices. In the end, he would’ve still died alone. 

"Up until today, we all thought we were going to die. In the Sun-Ring, or perhaps on the way," she said as she leaned against the railing, echoing his thoughts from when he was still the Carjas' prisoner. "Our pride tricked us into thinking that we would still be able to escape that first day here. But by the third day, we had watched countless of our friends be taken to that hole. Some of them were still alive, merely weak from thirst or starvation. There was nothing we could do except watch them be taken away."

“I have seen my fair share of loss. But to be helpless…to be alive after all of that feels like a fever dream.” She shook her head, as if she still couldn't believe that it had all been real. She faced him fully and pinned him with a hard stare. "I want to take Tekotteh down as much as you do for the crimes he has committed against our tribe. Our people are strong, they will survive this. But I don’t want to be Chief if it means completely undoing Hekarro’s work.”

“I understand, Commander. I—,” Kotallo sighed, clenching his fist behind him, his gut heavy with shame. “I lost sight of what’s important. It won’t happen again.”

Atekka stared at him, searching his eyes. Whatever she found there had her nodding. “Good. I can see you’re already punishing yourself, so that’s all I will say about the matter.” She gestured to the walkway. “Dismissed. As I said, we will reconvene tomorrow. For now, go be with your mate.”

Kotallo’s eyebrows shot up and his mouth hung open. Atekka snorted. “You haven’t pledged yourself to her?”

“We haven’t spoken the words. I haven’t even asked—,” he stopped, lifting his hand to rub the back of his neck. “It isn’t important right now. It isn’t the time.”

The breath Atekka released was loaded with pain, and her eyes reflected the same. She smiled at him, a sad quirk of her lips. “You shouldn’t wait too long, Marshal. She’s right there and nothing should stop you from making her yours,” she said, holding his gaze. Then she turned away, gripping the railing tightly. “Go on, now.”

Pursing his lips, Kotallo nodded and made his way down the walkway, ignoring the prickles on his skin from the multiple stares that followed him. He spotted Aloy immediately, sitting on top of one of the barrels near the gap along the curtain wall, smiling at him as he approached. 

“All done?” she asked when he was finally in front of her. 

He frowned at the exhaustion so clearly written on her face. “You should’ve gone on ahead. I would’ve found you.”

Aloy shook her head as she jumped off the barrel. “Come on. I found a spot.”

She was slurring her words, and Kotallo stared at the back of her head fondly. “There are plenty of tents,” he said as he followed her through the gap. 

“I want to sleep beside you,” Aloy grumbled, just loud enough for him to hear. 

Aloy led him past the white tents and up a staircase that he’d never seen before. There was a ruin at the very top, but all that was left were three vine-covered pillars and a badly broken balustrade. The sound of trickling water grew louder as they reached the top.

Thin streams of water flowed from a large rock formation. Their satchels were already there, resting under a small red canopy. He didn't remember seeing this the last time he was here. Then again, he had been dragged out the gates quickly. “Has this always been here?” Kotallo asked.

“I think so,” Aloy said as she knelt and opened her satchel. "It's marked on the map.

She took out her bedroll and laid it on the ground. Kotallo followed her example. When he was done, Kotallo took off his sandals, then his knuckle guard. Aloy approached him and unclasped his cuirass when he nodded, and helped him with his pauldron. 

“Are you taking everything off?” she asked.

Kotallo shook his head and sat on his bedroll, tugging Aloy to him. She reached for the binding in his hair, removing it along with his metal headpiece. Kotallo reached for her fur wrap and unclasped it, letting it all fall off her shoulders. He untied her leather tunic next, taking his time, happy that Aloy was letting him even though it would have been much faster had she untied it herself.

When she was only in her linen top and leather pants, Aloy lay on her back and spread out her right arm. He smiled at the unusual request, but did as she asked and let her cradle his head on her shoulder. “Comfortable?” she asked.

“Your arm will grow numb after a while,” Kotallo muttered, closing his eyes as he breathed in her scent.

“We’ll just switch when it does.” 

Kotallo chuckled as he wrapped his arm around her midriff, and gave a light squeeze. She hummed contentedly and started stroking his shoulder the same way he did when their positions were reversed. It wasn’t long before his conversation with Atekka drifted into his mind. 

It seemed…unfair to Aloy to ask her to be his mate when he had no clear idea yet of his standing now within his tribe. Not to mention that they were in the middle of a war. And he wasn’t even sure if she would change her mind about going the rest of the way with him. 

"Erend and Varl are leaving in the morning."

Kotallo held his breath—

“Are we marching to the Memorial Grove tomorrow?”

—and released it in one go. “Not yet,” he said, pressing his lips on her collarbone, just above the linen. Some of the tension in his shoulders faded. She was still coming with him.

Aloy moved her hand so that she was stroking his hair. “What’s on your mind?”

Taking a deep breath, Kotallo tightened his hold on her waist. There were a lot of things on his mind. Where would he even begin? “I’ve known Tekotteh all my life, and yet I feel as if I never truly knew him at all,” he murmured, then took another deep breath. “I don’t understand how I could have been this blind. There would have been signs…but why didn’t I see it?”

Aloy kept silent and Kotallo tilted his head to look at her, waiting for her input. She furrowed her eyebrows as she thought. “Maybe you only saw what you wanted to see,” she said, lifting her other shoulder in a shrug. “You wanted Tekotteh to be an honorable man, so that’s what he was in your eyes.”

Kotallo clenched his jaw. “If I had just seen it, I could have—Hekarro might be—”

“Sshh,” Aloy said as she wrapped her other arm around him. “You know that wasn’t your fault, Kotallo.”

“Wasn’t it?” he murmured against her throat. “I was his Marshal.”

“Hekarro was the Chief, but he didn’t see the signs, either. Does that mean it’s his fault, too?”

He clicked his tongue, though the heavy feeling in his heart lessened considerably. “I do not like it when you’re being sensible.”

“It doesn’t happen a lot, so don’t get used to it,” she said, her shoulders shaking as she chuckled. “Can we go to sleep? It’s been a long day.”

“Are you still comfortable like this?”

“Hm, no,” Aloy said as she laughed.

They removed themselves from the other’s embrace and swapped positions. Aloy shifted to the right as Kotallo stood up, and immediately laid her head on his chest and twined her leg with his. “Much better,” she whispered.

He silently agreed as he kissed the top of her head. Wrapping his arm around her, he let his eyes fall close. He fell asleep not long after, listening to the soothing flow of water and Aloy’s soft snores, grateful for the comfort she always brought. 

Kotallo opened his eyes to the vast expanse of the dawn sky, his arm numb to all feeling. He pressed a feather-light kiss on Aloy’s head, but she stirred and, as he expected, yawned against his chest. She groaned loudly after, blinking herself awake, as he gently rubbed parts of her skin that were smudged with his paint.

Aloy stretched her arms above her head after she had tied Kotallo's hair. “You go on ahead. I need a—,” she yawned again as Kotallo donned his armor. “I need a second.”

Kotallo chuckled and cradled her neck so he could give her a light peck on her lips, before walking away to climb down the steps and begin searching for their friends. It didn’t take him long to find them. They were by the large, wooden Oseram-constructed crane next to the babbling river, packing their satchels. 

“Hey buddy,” Erend said as he stood. “We were going to find you before we left, promise.”

Varl nodded. “Yeah, we wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

He smiled at them as he placed a hand on Varl’s shoulder. “I know,” he said. His smile fell as he realized that he might never see them again. “You have my thanks. Both of you. You helped me, helped my people. But I had become so busy that I failed to—”

Erend waved his hand. “Hey, none of that. You have loads to do, and these people look up to you.”

Kotallo couldn’t help but snort. Varl tutted. “None of that, either,” he said chidingly. “We saw how they looked at you yesterday, Marshal Kotallo. The Hero of Barren Light.”

He winced. This might be what Aloy must’ve felt every time someone called her Savior. When he was younger, he would’ve relished the feeling of having a title, especially one with the word hero in it. But now, he couldn’t help but feel that it rang false. Despite what Dekka said, he really was just a soldier fulfilling his duty to his tribe.

“What will you do once you return to Pitchcliff? Will you be sending rebel soldiers here to guard Barren Light?”

“Report to Ersa, help out with the rebellion. Atekka and I agreed that your people should guard this place for a while,” Erend said, looking sheepish. “I would’ve asked you, but you did say that Atekka is your highest ranking official, so…”

“Yes, she is. You were right to consult her.” Kotallo turned to Varl. “And you?”

Varl shrugged. “You know, I did consider going with you past the gates, if only to see Plainsong.” He grinned. “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss Zo. And I want to be there to meet our child, of course.”

It occurred to Kotallo, then, that Erend and Varl had accompanied him solely to help him. He huffed in amusement, partly because it had taken him long to realize it, partly because they hadn’t told him outright. 

“Give Zo my regards,” he said, squeezing Varl’s shoulder as he smirked. “And remember, Kotallo is a strong name for a boy.”

Varl rolled his eyes as Erend guffawed to the side. “Not you, too.” He whipped his head as he noticed Aloy’s approach, frowning at her wide grin. “I suppose you’re going to tell me to name my child after you, too?”

She shook her head. “You wouldn’t wanna name your kid after me.”

“Why not?”

“Well, it’s not exactly the luckiest of names, is it?” Aloy said, glancing at the ground as she crossed her arms. 

Varl stepped away from Kotallo and swung his arm over Aloy’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t have met Zo if I didn’t follow you out of the Sacred Lands, you know?” he said, his eyes soft as he smiled at her. “That makes your name the luckiest of all.”

Aloy returned his smile. "Thanks."

"You guys take care, alright?" Erend said, swinging his satchel over his shoulder. He extended his gloved hand to Kotallo.

Kotallo clasped arms with him. "We're going to see each other again."

"You sound confident,” Erend said, his eyes wide. “Did Atekka say she’ll send troops to Meridian once she's Chief?"

"I do not speak for Atekka. But you will see me on the battlefield when the time comes," Kotallo said. He shot Aloy a smile. "I have a promise to fulfill."

He clasped arms with Varl next who left him with a parting message to keep Aloy out of trouble. Aloy scoffed but continued to smile. They watched Erend and Varl as they walked away. The two turned to them when they reached the gate, their forms highlighted by the sunrise's pink haze, waving goodbye.

It would be a long time before they saw each other again.

Kotallo dropped his hand when they were out of sight and looked at Aloy. Reaching out to her, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, sighing deeply. He was glad that she had chosen to stay, but he would have let her go if she wanted to leave. 

She leaned away from him to look him in the eye. "What is it?" she asked as her frown deepened. "Did you think I was going to go with them?"

He sighed again, but Aloy spoke again before he could respond. "I'm starting to think you don't want me here," she said with a smirk, her tone playful.

Kotallo leaned his chin on top of her head. "Of course I want you here with me. I want you to be m—," he stiffened, his eyes widening as he realized what he had been about to say.

"Hm? Be what?"

I shouldn't have spoken to the commander about this, he thought. It seemed like the desire to ask Aloy to be his mate was now a constant thought that lingered at the back of his mind. Clearing his throat, he smiled down at Aloy. "I want you to be by my side."

"I want that, too," she said and grinned at him. "But I bet you'll be pretty busy today."

"Yes," Kotallo said, his smile turning apologetic. "What will you be doing?"

"Sparring."

"Sparring? With who?"

"Tokko, Pella, Ketteko, Evvo—"

Kotallo eyebrows leapt as she continued to recite names of soldiers he hadn't met. "You'll be sparring with all of them?"

Aloy shrugged. "They said they'd find me once their shift ends. I'll go hunting for a bit before then "

He huffed, and kissed her forehead. "Alright, I will leave you to it."

Kotallo set off to find Atekka, taking the long way to observe their troops. Everyone was already awake. The grunts of sparring and exercising were scattered, but Arokkeh's shouts filled the entire camp as he led most of the soldiers through drills.

He nodded at the wide-eyed soldiers that saluted him as he passed, holding back a smile. It almost felt like he was back at the Grove. 

Walking through the gap in the wall, Kotallo found Drakka first. He led the man towards Vezreh's tower to find a piece of parchment and a pen

Drakka squinted at the pen in his hand. "You want me to draw Scalding Spear?"

Kotallo nodded. "Yes. From above, if you can manage it."

"And I just…" Drakka trailed off, pointing the point of the pen towards the parchment. When Kotallo nodded again, Drakka scratched the nib onto the parchment, his eyes widening when ink followed his movements.

When he was sure that Drakka had it handled, Kotallo left him to go find Atekka and Dekka.

Discussing strategies was easier now that they had a diagram of the Desert capital, though Kotallo wondered at its accuracy. But the morning was already ending, and they were no closer to coming to an agreement. 

Kotallo strode down the walkway after Atekka had dismissed them, attempting to smooth out the thunderous expression he was certain was on his face. He approached the makeshift sparring pit, squinting against the bright afternoon sun. The soldiers eyed him warily, and Kotallo knew none of them would spar with him and take it seriously, even though most of them would have seen him fighting effectively with only one arm when they took Barren Light and earlier at Twilight’s Crest.

Sighing, he made his way to the river, scanning his surroundings for Aloy’s red mane. He was sure she’d spar with him if he asked. Or perhaps she’d be willing to let out steam in a manner he knew they would both enjoy. 

More eager now to find her, Kotallo circled the entire fort, even going so far as to cross the other side of the river next to the border wall. He placed his hand on his hip as he stood next to a shed, clicking his tongue, disappointed when he couldn’t find her. She must still be out hunting. 

“Marshal Kotallo?”

He turned around and came face-to-face with a soldier wearing Sky clan armor. The young man’s face was almost completely bare of paint, except for some magenta beneath dark eyes and on his chin. The soldier’s fists were clenched at his sides and his whole body was stiff, as if poised to defend against an attack.

“Yes?” Kotallo asked. “What can I do for you, soldier?”

The soldier’s worried expression shifted, his eyebrows raising. “You…you don’t remember me?”

Kotallo tilted his head as he tried to remember if he’d ever seen him before. “I’m afraid I do not.”

Letting out a puff of breath, the soldier raised his hands and placed them on the back of his neck, his body curling inwards. “I can’t believe you don’t remember me when I’ve thought of nothing else but you for the past three months,” he said quickly.

Narrowing his eyes, Kotallo took another hard look at the young man’s face. He did look vaguely familiar. Perhaps it was because of his missing paint that he couldn’t quite place him. 

The soldier swallowed and dropped his hands, placing one on his chest. He was shaking. “I am Konakk. I was one of the soldiers that—,” he waved his other hand over to the other side of the river, towards the fort, “—took you here.”

Kotallo felt as if he had plunged himself into icy waters, numbing his skin. He couldn’t feel his fingertips. “I remember,” he said, his lips curling back into a snarl. “I’m surprised to see you here. Where is your friend?”

Tears fell from Konakk’s eyes as freely as a waterfall. “Otta, that was his name. He’s gone. Dead. He was one of the first who spoke out against Tekotteh and he—,” he stopped to sniff, and released a shuddery breath. “Well…he’s not here anymore.”

Kotallo removed his gaze and stared ahead as he swiftly walked past Konakk, fearing that he would kill him if he didn’t get away fast enough. He could feel his rage igniting, chasing away the numbness he felt earlier. The back of his neck was hot from more than just the heat of the sun. He needed to get away. 

He heard two thuds behind him. “Please! I shouldn’t have followed Tekotteh’s orders. I should have listened to Otta sooner!”

Kotallo scoffed and turned around to find Konakk kneeling. “Here to beg for my forgiveness, are you?”

“I want to make amends,” Konakk said, his voice trembling. He unsheathed the sword behind him and held it flat on his hands. “E-Even if I have to do it with my life. It—It feels only right to die by your hand.”

Stomping forward, Kotallo’s hand darted out, swiping the sword from Konakk’s hands and placing the blade against the man’s throat, staring deep into his frightened eyes. He was young—younger than Kotallo remembered. Konakk couldn’t be much older than Kotallo was during the days Tekotteh first took notice of him. 

Kotallo hadn’t been much different from Konakk at that age. 

He felt his rage ebb, only for a different one to replace it. Manipulation and deceit had always been part of Tekotteh’s arsenal, it seems. He’d been commander of the Sky clan for as long as Kotallo could remember. How many young soldiers had he fooled in all those long years?

Kotallo threw Konakk’s sword to the ground. “Your death will not change what has already happened,” he said in a harsh voice. He forced out a breath, trying to find calm. “And you have suffered enough.”

He held out his hand, shaking it impatiently when Konakk hesitated. Kotallo pulled him up and placed his hand on the young man’s shoulder. Konakk stared at him with wide eyes. “Continue to fight for us, and consider yourself forgiven.”

He didn’t wait for Konakk to respond. Turning around, Kotallo made his way back to the main camp. He could think about this later, speak to Aloy and be comforted in her embrace. But first, he had to get back to Drakka and the others. Talking to the young soldier had sparked a memory, one that could be useful for the upcoming battle. 

Kotallo found Atekka first, then Dekka. Drakka was still up on the overlook, sitting cross-legged on the floor, frowning at the diagram of Scalding Spear that he drew earlier. He looked up when Kotallo approached. 

“At some Sky clan settlements,” Kotallo began, his heart racing, “there are shelters below ground for the children and the younger trainees to hide in, in case of an attack. Our people used them during the Clan Wars. Does Scalding Spear have one?”

Drakka’s eyebrows leapt. “Yeah, it’s near the northwest exit. Why?” Drakka shot him a chiding look. “Are you gonna bring up bombs again?”

Kotallo crouched next to him and tapped the northeast and southeast exits. “Only for these exits. Make the soldiers move northwest. We’ll divide our troops so that more of them can lie in wait here,” he said as he dragged his finger over the entire west wall of Scalding Spear.

Atekka and Dekka crouched as well. All three of them stared at the map as Kotallo waited with bated breath. They hadn’t been able to agree on anything during their discussions, and every hour they spent planning was an hour wasted.

They needed to move.

Drakka sighed as he flicked the parchment. “That just might work. They’ll definitely move the children to the shelter as soon as they have sights on enemy troops.”

“You will lead a platoon on that side, Drakka,” Kotallo said. “Quick entry. Challenge Yarra. Win.”

Drakka nodded once, his eyes hard with determination. “When do we leave?”

Kotallo looked at Atekka whose eyes were just as hard when they met his. “Get everyone ready. We march for Scalding Spear tonight.”

He nodded. Finally. 

“As you command.”

Chapter Text

It felt good to be back with his people. The Tenakth were all warriors. Fighting was in their blood. 

And Kotallo's was roaring in his ears.

He straightened from his crouch and turned away from the others. Walking to the railing, he looked down at the courtyard. The soldiers looked up, Kotallo's imposing figure immediately catching their attention.

Kotallo brandished his spear and pumped it upwards, the tip pointing to the clear, blue sky. "WAR!"

"WAR!" he yelled again, loud enough so that his voice rang throughout the courtyard, loud enough that the wind carried his cry past the curtain walls.

And again, he roared, "WAR!" 

His next cry was echoed by the troops, pumping their own weapons or their fists into the air. The faces of the soldiers were a mix of rage and excitement. Their furious battle cries turned into chants that reverberated throughout Barren Light.

"WAR! WAR! WAR! WAR!"

Kotallo pumped his spear into the air in time with their chants, and the soldiers followed his example. 

"WAR! WAR! WAR! WAR!"

He brought down the butt of his spear onto the floor. The chants stopped abruptly, the soldiers’ chests heaving as they panted. "Soldiers! Ready your blades," Kotallo yelled. "TONIGHT, WE MARCH FOR SCALDING SPEAR!"

The soldiers cried out once more, abandoning all coherency. Some beat their chests as they howled, others stomped the ground, their eagerness for vengeance and traitors’ blood palpable

"Nicely done," Drakka yelled beside him. 

Kotallo nodded his thanks and turned to salute Atekka. When she dismissed him, he went down the walkway as quickly as he could, nodding to the soldiers that saluted him briefly, their faces determined, before going back to release more of their bloodlust. 

He needed to find Aloy.

They found each other at the same time. She was right there when he exited the gates of the fort, standing in a sea of soldiers as they continued to holler, her red hair a bright beacon in the sun. The unexpected heat in her eyes sent a swirl of want swimming in his gut. 

Kotallo let out a long breath as he walked to the side towards the river. Aloy followed him, navigating through the soldiers, her eyes never leaving his.

When they were far enough from the crowd, he grabbed her arm and pulled her to the side, under a dusty, white canopy hanging above a small wooden structure. Aloy’s lips were on his as soon as he faced her, cutting off the words he meant to speak.

Letting go of her hand, Kotallo wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her flush to his chest, groaning into her mouth. It had felt like forever since he last felt the slide of her tongue against his and the softness of her hands as she slid her fingers over his abs, then lower, stopping right above the blue beads stitched above his belt. He slid his hand lower, as well, until he could squeeze her ass through her leather pants. 

Aloy broke the kiss with a gasp and leaned her forehead against his metal chestplate. 

With a wistful sigh, he squeezed her bottom one last time, before wrapping his arm back around her waist. “It hasn’t been decided,” he began, burying his nose in her hair, “but I will need to be with Drakka at the battle. Keep him safe before he has to duel Yarra.”

“Okay,” she breathed before tilting her head to look up at him. “Where do you need me?”

His heart swelled at the readiness in which she offered her assistance. “There’s no one I trust more than you to guard Atekka.”

Aloy frowned. “I was gonna say that maybe she should sit this one out, if she needs to be kept safe. But that’s not the Tenakth way, is it?”

“No,” he agreed. “And Atekka is not the type to watch idly as others fight.”

She huffed, playing with one of the blue beads on his belt. “Okay. You’re going to be busy.”

He twirled a strand of her hair around his finger, wishing he could steal even just one hour away with her. “Yes,” he said with a sigh.

Stepping away from him, Aloy waved her hand towards the fort. Already he wanted to reach for her again. “Go,” she said with a sympathetic smile, as if she knew what he was thinking. “I need to get ready too.”

Kotallo took a long breath before giving a sharp nod. He strode over to her and placed a brief kiss on her forehead. “I will find you before the battle,” he murmured, before turning away. 

The Tenakth prepared for battle with impressive efficiency. This was nothing at all like how Kotallo and the others had helped prepare thirty-seven civilians to relocate to a new settlement, and it wasn't just how quickly the Tenakth were able to prepare.

There was an energy that simmered just below the surface. It filled Barren Light, sharpened the soldiers' focus and fueled the fury of their movements. And though they were all separated by the type of armor they wore, and by the colors of the remnants of paint they had stubbornly refused to remove, they all moved as one.

They split the troops between Drakka, Atekka, and Arokkeh. The three, including Dekka, looked at Kotallo in surprise.

“You do not want to lead your own squad?” Atekka asked.

Kotallo shook his head. “If it’s alright with you, Commander, I would like to be assigned to Drakka’s squad.”

Atekka tilted her head. “Very well.”

As he expected, Drakka smiled coyly at him. “Can’t keep away from me, huh?”

He dragged in a breath and turned to Arokkeh. "Are we able to outfit all of our soldiers with weapons?" 

"Not all of them, sir," Arokkeh said, gesturing to a group of soldiers near the outer walls, sitting on the ground, crafting additional bombs. "We've assigned them to the bombs."

"That won't do," Kotallo murmured. He put his hand on his hip as he mentally counted the soldiers. "Did we retrieve the weapons from the fallen Carja at Twilight's Crest?"

"No, sir."

"See that you do. That just might be enough." Kotallo hummed thoughtfully, then added, "If not, there are more by the cable car. Bring me parchment and a pen, I’ll draw you a map."

Arokkeh saluted him. “Sir.”

The sky changed colors, but the settlement was still laden with the same energy. The stone walls barely contained the bloodlust thrumming in the air. Kotallo could almost smell it on the soldiers as he walked among them, listening to scattered snippets of conversation.

“Tekotteh doesn’t know what’s coming for him.”

“I wish we had our paints,” a Lowland soldier grumbled.

“Eh, at least it’ll make it easier to identify our enemies.”

“Yarra should’ve joined Atekka from the beginning, instead of allying herself with a tyrant.”

“Her time’s almost up.”

Kotallo stood on the landing of the wooden walkway, catching Atekka’s gaze as she gripped the railing of the overlook above them. The soldiers gathered in the courtyard, some force or shared instinct had their chatter dying until silence befell them.

They were ready.

Atekka lifted her chin, taking her time to gaze into the eyes of as many of the soldiers as she could. When she released a breath, it seemed like everyone else held theirs.

“It was only two nights ago that our futures were so bleak,” she said, her voice echoing against the walls. “Only two nights ago that our death was a foregone conclusion.”

“If not for Marshal Kotallo, more of us would have rotted in those cells, while others would have had their bodies broken in the Sun-Ring!” Her gaze found Kotallo’s once more, prompting the soldiers to turn their heads to look at him too.

Straightening his back, Kotallo forced himself to meet their stares though his skin itched. The urge to hide his stump anytime anyone looked at him had faded eventually during his time in the east, but the urge flared up now with so many Tenakth eyes trained on him. But the contempt and disgust he had expected, that he had been subjected to when he was first maimed, were not in the eyes of the soldiers below him.

The soldiers put their fists to their chests, looking up at him with gratitude. 

And, dare he hope, approval?

But their attention quickly shifted back to Atekka when she spoke again. “A tyrant sits on the throne, and he is determined to destroy our tribe with his perverted vision of unity!” she shouted, righteous anger twisting her face. The soldiers yelled with her. Some of them spat on the ground. “You have all been given your assignments. Tomorrow, we will free our brothers and sisters of the Desert clan! But we will not stop there—Scalding Spear is only the beginning!”

The walls of Barren Light shook as the soldiers cheered.

“Open the gates!” 

The portcullis was raised. The gates opened with a groan.

“Move out!”

They set a hard pace as they marched across No-Man’s Land. Kotallo’s eyes met Aloy’s bright ones from across the crowd as she moved with Atekka’s squad, her hair still visible though dulled greatly by moonlight. Even from afar, he could see the way she tapped her Focus, scanning the derelict machines scattered around them.

The sun peeked through the horizon, but by then they were marching on grass, navigating through the trees. The Utaru in the fields ran from them and into the safe confines of the three great dishes of Plainsong, but the Tenakth paid them no mind. 

There was no rest for Kotallo, even when they stopped to feed their troops. No rest either for Atekka or Drakka. 

“What of the High Turning?” Kotallo asked, peeking through the trees to see if he could spot the walls the Tenakth had built long ago in between the mountain pass from this distance. It was much smaller than the walls of Barren Light, but it had served to keep out outlanders from the Clan Lands from before the Red Raids.

“Empty. I sent a runner ahead,” Drakka said as he filled his waterskin by the nearby brook, his fingers touching the clear water reverently. “My guys in Arrowhand will meet you before you reach the plates on the southeast side.”

“Nervous?” Atekka asked as she studied him. “For the coming battle?”

Drakka huffed as he scooped water into his mouth. He let out a heavy sigh before turning back to Atekka with a cocky grin. “No. I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

True to his word, Kotallo found Aloy before the troops separated, leading her towards a thicket of trees. They held each other as they lost themselves in each other’s lips.  

“Aloy,” he murmured when he pulled back, tucking her head under his chin. A heavy weight settled in his chest as the memory of Atekka’s words swam in his mind.

“What?”

Suddenly he regretted not asking Aloy sooner, or even discussing it with her to see what she thought of the idea of being his mate. But the timing was wrong. “I love you,” he said instead.

She leaned away to look up at him, her cheeks a lovely shade of pink. “I love you.”

He watched her go as she rejoined Atekka’s squad. They were setting out earlier than they were as they would need to take the long way down to reach Arrowhand.

By nightfall, Kotallo and Drakka rushed through thickets of trees and grass with their troops. The fields of green turned to sand, and the first explosion painted the southeast side of Scalding Spear as they ran.

Kotallo glanced behind him at the rows of soldiers and pumped his fist upward, then back to his shoulder several times in quick successions. “Double time!”

He couldn’t tell if they were actually running any faster than they already were. The sand they kicked along the way muffled the sound of their feet and all he could hear was the sound of his heart beating in his ears like a wardrum.

They were at the halfway mark! Almost there! 

Kotallo jolted as a second explosion went off, closer this time, but not because they were nearing the northwest exit. It had come from somewhere in the northeast, but there was no way to tell from this angle if it was their bomb that exploded or the enemy’s. 

But they were close enough now that Kotallo could hear shouting from inside the settlement. He turned to Drakka, banishing the insidious whispers in his mind. "Find Yarra as soon as we're inside. I will cover you."

"You got it," Drakka said with an eager grin. 

They continued to run. Kotallo barely registered the way the moonlight turned the wall and the wooden spikes of the settlement’s paints into different colors as his eyes locked on to the pair of archers atop the northwest arch, their attention drawn to the fighting at the other exits. He pointed to them and shouted over his shoulder, “Shoot them down!”

He didn’t know if their soldiers’ arrows hit their mark; he and Drakka rushed through the arch, stabbing and slashing at the first enemies they found. 

Kotallo recoiled at the sentry whose torso was still impaled on his spear, their armor distinctly Desert clan in make, but the paint—

“Don’t just stand there, Kotallo!”

He kicked the dead sentry off his spear with a grunt, ready to take on the next, but stopped when he finally turned around, nearly dropping his weapon in shock. 

It was easy to distinguish their soldiers from the enemies because their soldiers were still lacking most of their paint. But what made it easier was that their enemies weren’t wearing the customary yellow, black, and red paints of the Desert clan. Instead, their faces and armor were painted magenta, white, and pale blue.

Sky clan colors.

Perverted vision of unity, Atekka had said before they left Barren Light. But he never imagined—

One of the enemy soldiers charged at him. Kotallo raised his spear, but before the soldier could reach him, her chest burst and a blade pushed through from behind her.

“What are you doing?!” Drakka yelled, before turning around and clashing blades with another enemy soldier. 

Kotallo let out a roar, rushing the first Desert clan soldier wearing Sky clan colors he saw with his spear. He hadn’t meant to avoid asking about what else had changed with the tribe since Tekotteh took over the throne, but after Drakka had arrived, there had been little in his mind except to plan their next steps.

He ducked out of the way of an incoming blade and swiped his own spear upwards, slicing his attacker from belly to chest, his attacker’s entrails falling on the sand before his body did. Clearing the enemies from where he was to where Drakka had moved took a few minutes, but when he was finally near the man he shouted, “Have you seen her?”

“No,” Drakka growled as he hit an enemy soldier with the butt of his spear, knocking him back, giving Drakka the chance to pierce him through the chin.

The shouting seemed to grow louder. A fleeting glance was all it took for Kotallo to know that the others had finally made their way past the other entrances. Purple sparks exploded in the distance as bodies flew. Aloy had arrived.

But there were enemies on all sides, they wouldn’t be able to keep this going for long!

Dodging another blade, Kotallo stepped back. “Find her!” he yelled as his spear found purchase in an enemy’s bare shoulder. But when he turned around, Drakka was already gone. 

Blood of the Ten!

Kotallo shoved his pauldron against another attacker’s chest, before adjusting his grip on his spear to slash at the woman’s torso. He had to find Drakka, but there were too many soldiers around him!

He could see the melee pit from afar, if he could just push past—

“YARRA!”

The soldiers stepped away from each other as the sounds of fighting slowly died. In its place, the sand shook beneath their feet as soldiers thumped the ground with the butt of their spears in a familiar rhythm that made Kotallo’s heart pound in his ribcage. 

The challenge has begun. 

Weaving through the crowd, Kotallo’s hand clenched around his spear as he walked past enemies and allies alike, feeling defenseless from behind until he saw the rebel soldiers tense as he neared. They stepped forward to cover Kotallo’s back as he moved past them, ready to defend his six from errant blades.

Grunts and yells rang in the air above the percussive rhythm as Kotallo approached the center of the capital. There, beside the melee pit, Drakka and Yarra clashed blades.

Anxiety roiled in Kotallo’s gut. The fight was horrible to watch. He could do nothing but stand to the side as Drakka fought Yarra, looking strange in Sky colors.

No one could interfere. It would be dishonorable. And there would be nothing anyone could do if Drakka lost.

Yarra jumped, dodging the wide sweep of Drakka’s spear, and immediately thrust her own spear as she landed. Kotallo’s stomach lurched then loosened as Drakka rolled away in time. 

If Drakka lost, they would have to retreat. The rebellion would suffer heavy losses. Who knows when they could plan another attack? And, by then, Tekotteh would be ready for them. 

This was their best shot.

Drakka and Yarra’s lips moved as they fought, exchanging words no one else could hear. The thumping on the ground grew louder and louder. Kotallo navigated through the crowd until he finally reached the fringes of the spectators, but stopped short when Drakka fell on his back. 

The thuds on the ground stuttered as Kotallo’s heart seized, his feet paralyzed by indecision as Yarra raised her spear in the air above Drakka’s body. 

With a yell, Drakka kicked a foot out, hitting Yarra in the stomach. She doubled over, and in the second that her spear lowered, moonlight glinted off the edge of the small knife in Drakka’s hand. 

A hush fell as Yarra pitched forward on her knees. Kotallo could hear her rattled breathing from this distance as he watched her lift a shaky hand to cover the knife sticking out of her gut. Drakka stood from the ground, huffing with exertion as he yanked Yarra’s spear from her hand.

This was it. The Desert capital was theirs! 

“Well?” Yarra grunted, looking up at Drakka. “You gonna make me wait around?”

Drakka’s jaw clenched as he pressed the tip of the spear against her bare stomach right next to the knife. He pushed the spear inside her with a grunt. Yarra gasped her last breath, blood trickling down the corner of her mouth as she fell on her side. 

The silence lasted about a second before the sound of numerous spears clattering against each other and onto the ground filled the air, followed by anguished howls that rang from different directions. 

“Bring those men to the cells!” Drakka yelled.

Kotallo stepped forward, stowing his spear behind him. Drakka watched him warily as he approached, but didn’t stop Kotallo when he took Drakka’s wrist and raised his hand above their heads.

“Your Commander!” Kotallo yelled as he faced their troops, his voice immediately drowned out by cheers and hollers. The ground shook again as the soldiers thumped the butt of their spears by their feet.

He had expected Drakka to relish his victory, to bask in the attention and praise. But when Kotallo finally lowered their hands, Drakka’s face was blank except for the way his jaw was tightly clenched.

Kotallo watched as the Desert-born rebel soldiers immediately flocked towards their new commander, wondering if it was merely Drakka’s paint that was making him look sad.

His first priority had been to look for Atekka, to ensure that she was alive and well. She looked as exhausted as he felt, but stood strong as she cared for the wounded. Giving him a once-over, she shooed him away.

“Tomorrow, we shall plan. Tonight, we rest,” Atekka said in a tone that brooked no argument, and waved her hand, gesturing towards the center of the settlement. “Celebrate our victory.”

He glanced towards the melee pit. The surviving soldiers were carrying the corpses of their fallen brothers and sisters off to the side where others would begin preparing them for the funeral rites. They were taking care of the bodies of the rebels first, and left the Desert clan soldiers littered on the ground to be carried off later. It was still odd to see so many wearing Sky colors in the desert.

So many dead. Tenakth, all of them. What was there to celebrate? 

But he placed his fist on his chest and nodded to Atekka, keeping his thoughts to himself. “It will be the first of many.”

Kotallo found Aloy with Drakka by the Wound in the Sand, both of them standing next to the railing in the center with a bucket hanging above them by a thick rope. The clay containers surrounding the Wound were empty and dry, carrying dust and sand instead of water. 

Aloy looked at him as he approached, a smile lighting up her face. He quickly swept his gaze over her form, grateful when he couldn’t find any obvious injuries. He would have to check more thoroughly later.

"What are you two doing?" he asked, reaching out to touch Aloy's arm. 

"Your Desert Flame here says she might be able to fix the Wound," Drakka said in a hopeful voice.

"I said I think I can lead you to where the water comes from—," Aloy shrugged, gesturing to the Wound, "or used to."

Drakka looked down at the Wound and let out a heavy breath. “Anything to help my people,” he said softly. After a moment, he clapped his hands together. “But we’re gonna have to save that for tomorrow. What should we do about the dissidents?”

Kotallo arched his brow at Drakka. “The decision should be yours, Commander.”

“Heh, right,” Drakka said sheepishly, averting his eyes as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

Aloy raised her eyebrows at Kotallo, which he took to mean that he should take pity on the man. He sighed. “Give them a choice, Drakka. They can pledge fealty to you as their new commander and re-join the clan and tribe, or choose whatever punishment you deem fit.”

“What’s the usual punishment?” Aloy asked him. But it was Drakka who answered, his voice low, as if he was talking to himself. 

“Execution. It’s always been the way of the desert,” Drakka said. Taking a deep breath, he swept his gaze around Scalding Spear and squared his shoulders. “But not anymore.”

Kotallo didn't hide the way he searched Drakka's face. Perhaps his judgment of the man had been too hasty. Perhaps underneath all that bluster was a leader that truly cared for the wellbeing of his people, and not just a power-hungry upstart.

“What will you do?” Kotallo asked.

“Don’t know yet,” the other man said, lifting his shoulders. “But I’ll figure it out.”

Kotallo nodded, ready to leave and take Aloy somewhere they could rest, but Drakka cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows at him. Taking the hint, Aloy snorted. “Find me after?” she said to Kotallo.

“I will,” he promised, brushing his thumb against her knuckles as she walked away. 

“So, uh—,” Drakka cleared his throat again, grinning as he placed his hands on his hips, “some fight, huh?”

Kotallo had seen the man smile enough times by now to know that this one wasn’t genuine. “What is it?”

Drakka rolled his eyes and drew in a long breath. He opened his mouth, but paused to look out into the settlement. “You know,” he began, dropping his arms. “Yarra wasn’t always like that.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Drakka shot Kotallo with a weak smile. “I mean, she’s always liked her rules and order. But, as Jetakka told me once, survival in the desert requires a disciplined approach.”

“Where are you going with this?” Kotallo asked, a line appearing between his eyebrows. 

Drakka reached up to rub the back of his neck. “I’m saying that I don’t have a chaplain to keep me in line.”

Kotallo softened, finally hearing the words Drakka wasn’t saying. “Jetakka was a wise chaplain, he is not so easily replaced.” He placed a hand on Drakka’s shoulder. “You will be a good commander for your clan, Drakka, so long as you walk the path of honor.”

He smirked at the other man when he felt the shoulder under his palm relax. “And I am here. I will keep my eye on you.”

Drakka scoffed. “Thanks,” he drawled. “Your confidence is inspiring.”

He left Drakka there by the Wound and began looking for Aloy. He found her peeking inside vats of dyes, their satchels by her feet. Kotallo swung both satchels over his shoulder, then took her hand, pleased when she twined their fingers together.

They walked around Scalding Spear, searching for space fit for two, passing multiple soldiers as they went. They would drop whatever it was they were doing to straighten their backs and press their fists to their chests, their eyes flitting to his and Aloy’s joined hands. They hid their knowing smiles and whispers poorly and Kotallo chuckled at the bewildered expression on Aloy’s face.

“Your people like to gossip,” she grumbled. 

“Yes,” he said simply.

They circled almost the entirety of the settlement, passing by the Wound again, before they reached the last squadbay they hadn’t checked, right next to the northwest exit. Walking up the slight incline, Kotallo hoped for space for both of them, but would gladly give up a comfortable place to rest if it meant Aloy could. He sighed in relief: there were two empty rush pallets in the middle. They would have to step over sleeping bodies to reach them, but there was enough moonlight pouring in from the outside that they wouldn’t accidentally step on one. 

But the look on Aloy’s face stopped him from stepping inside. He turned to face her fully and rubbed his thumb on the back of her hand, his eyes honing in on the way her lips pursed. “What is it?”

Aloy shifted her weight. “Um—,” she shook her head, chuckling a little. Stepping closer to him, she placed her other hand on his belt, hooking her fingers underneath. She grinned at him as she played with the hair that ran from his navel. “I was, uh, hoping for somewhere more private.”

Kotallo’s eyebrows leapt. He huffed and glanced away, her unusual forwardness bringing forth a smile that he knew was distinctly smug. Raising her hand to his lips, he released a satisfied sigh. “Come,” he said as he led her past the northwest exit.

“Where are we going?” Aloy asked, jogging to keep up with Kotallo’s long strides. 

“You’ll see,” he said, smirking at her over his shoulder.

They walked past the numerous plates this side of Scalding Spear and continued down the path, avoiding the herd of chargers off to the side. Already Kotallo could feel himself hardening in his shorts, anticipation coiling in his gut. It wasn’t everyday that Aloy made the first move. 

She squeezed his hand as the shelter by the mountain finally came into view. ‘Shelter’ might be generous for what it actually was: large pieces of rusting metal jutting up from the sand with a rotting tarp that served as an awning. 

Kotallo let go of her hand and knelt next to the kindling, dropping their satchels on the ground as he watched Aloy from his periphery. She walked around the single rush pallet and made her way towards the basket next to the workbench, taking out some of the extra machine parts inside. Then she peeked inside the large clay container similar to the ones in Scalding Spear and tutted. “No water here, either.”

He stood when he finally got a fire going. It brightened the area considerably, and turned Aloy’s eyes golden. “That’ll change tomorrow.”

Aloy huffed and walked back to him, her hands immediately reaching for his belt, tucking her fingers underneath. “You don’t know that.”

Kotallo wet his lips and pushed her hair over her shoulder, seeing the desire clearly in her bright eyes, but also reading the hesitation in them. “You wanted privacy,” he reminded her.

“This isn’t exactly private.”

“Should we sleep, then?” he asked, pressing his lips together to keep a laugh from escaping him when she frowned.

Aloy sighed and turned her head towards Scalding Spear, her fingers playing with the hair below his navel again. “Are you sure no one’s gonna come this way?”

“I cannot be completely certain,” Kotallo admitted as he brushed his knuckles over her pulse point. “Anyone can use this shelter.”

She looked up at him through her lashes. His eyebrows shot up when he heard the click of his belt. “Maybe…” she trailed off, a slow smile blooming on her lips as she let his belt and tassets fall on the sand. “Maybe we just need to be quick.”

He chuckled and reached down to cup her ass, just as he did in Barren Light, and enjoyed the way she gasped. “I missed you,” he said, before pressing his lips to hers. “I want to take my time with you.”

“You always want to take your time,” Aloy said with a roll of her eyes. She reached up, unbound his hair and removed his metal headpiece, dropping it on his tassets. “Right now, I just want you inside me.”

He squeezed her ass as he ground his hips against hers, hissing when she tugged on his locks. “If you’re certain—”

“I’m certain,” she breathed against his lips. 

Their mouths collided in a bruising kiss, Kotallo surrendering himself to the weight of Aloy’s lips and the hot swipe of her tongue. He growled against her mouth as he took his hand from her rear to cup her breast, swearing mentally when his palm met thick leather. 

Aloy broke the kiss with a whine and started untying the laces at the front of her tunic. “Blanket?”

“Storage chest,” he said, leaning away to tug the linen of his knuckle guard with his teeth. He turned around when he was finally able to remove it. “My armor—”

“I got it,” Aloy interjected, swiftly unclasping his cuirass. She held onto his left shoulder and pulled herself up to press her teeth on the side of his neck. He meant to turn around to kiss her again, but she placed her hands on his bare back. “Blanket,” she panted, pushing him towards the storage chest.

“My pauldron—”

“Blanket,” she insisted as she shrugged off her tunic, her hands flying to the laces of her pants. She glared at him when she saw that he hadn’t moved. “Kotallo, blanket.”

“Yes, alright,” he said, blinking hard. He stepped over the pieces of his armor on the ground and jogged to the storage chest, rifling inside until he spotted it. By the time he turned around, Aloy was standing over the rush pallet in her smalls. 

“Lie down,” she said. “Hurry.”

He strode over to her and lay down as she asked. She immediately straddled him, pressed her core to the front of his shorts, and captured his lips again. Kotallo reached in between them to pull her bandeau up over her breasts, then shifted down so that he could take a hardened nipple in his mouth. 

The urgency of Aloy’s movements had him sucking her nipple firmly, making her moan and writhe on top of him. He could feel the heat of her against his shorts, and her weight on his groin made his toes curl. 

“Shorts,” she gasped. “Take it off.” 

He placed his hand on her hip to lift her slightly, shifting his head to lick and suck her other nipple, before reaching between them again to free his cock. But before he could tug her smallclothes down, Aloy braced herself with one hand on the pallet next to his head and reached down with her other hand to tug the fabric out of the way. 

“Aloy—,” Kotallo stopped, his mouth falling open as the tip of his cock was enveloped by her heat. 

She pushed herself up, taking him inside her inch by inch until she was fully seated. Sighing, her inner muscles pulsing around him, Aloy looked down at him through lidded eyes. “You feel so good,” she murmured as she rocked her hips.

Kotallo could only groan and tense beneath her as she placed her hands on his abs, watching in awe as she tilted her head back. Her hair fell behind her in waves as she rode him hard, rocking her hips back and forth with a speed that stole his breath. 

He was helpless to the pleasure she was giving him, the tell-tale signs of his climax rising, the pressure swelling too fast for his liking. “Aloy, please,” he panted. “Wait.”

She chuckled breathlessly, and rode him harder. “Coming?” 

Kotallo growled and reached down to press his thumb on her clit, but she gripped his wrist and pressed his arm against the pallet next to his head. Her breasts swayed above him, making his mouth water. 

“Please,” he begged, his stomach trembling as he held on desperately to the last strands of his control. “I won’t last.”

The way she laughed in his face made him wild. He planted his still-sandaled feet on the pallet and surged upward as he bucked against her. Aloy fell back with a yelp and he swiftly moved his hand to the middle of her back to support her weight as he lay her down on the pallet. 

She moaned in protest when he pulled out of her, but her eyes widened as Kotallo knelt between her thighs and tugged the fabric of her smallclothes to the side. “Stay still,” he rasped, before pressing into her slowly. Aloy let out a long moan, her blunt nails digging into his thighs.

“Kotallo,” she sobbed as she lifted her hands, reaching for him. “Come here."

He felt his chest expand with the sheer force of his love for her. Leaning forward, he braced himself on his forearm, pressing their chests together as he placed his palm on the top of her head. 

“Good?” he murmured.

“Yes,” she sobbed as she cradled his face. “Always. It’s always good.”

Kotallo kissed her, his lips gentle on hers as he pulled his hips back, savoring the exquisite drag of her walls against his cock. Patiently building up her pleasure, he kept up his languid thrusts as he swallowed her little cries. 

Aloy started to roll her hips insistently against his, her fingers moving from his cheeks to grip the back of his neck. She whined against his lips and he broke the kiss to ask, “Faster?”

She squeezed her thighs against his waist, digging her ankles hard against his hips. “Please,” she moaned. “I’m so close.”

He filled her with one smooth stroke, all the way to the hilt. Then he was snapping his hips, pounding into her, the sound of their skin meeting drowned by Aloy’s loud cries. Nuzzling her neck, Kotallo placed open-mouthed kisses on her skin, letting her feel his teeth as he inhaled the intoxicating scent of her hair pillowed around her head. 

“So good,” Kotallo growled in her ear as a particularly hard thrust sent shivers down his spine. “So good for me.”

Aloy gasped, then she was crying out his name, her body spasming underneath his as her face crumpled. He slid his cock in and out of her sex as it quivered around him, lifting his head to watch her break apart for him. “Beautiful,” he murmured, stroking away the sweat from her forehead, his heart filling with a want—a need to call her his.

He leaned down, pressing kisses in the valley between Aloy’s breasts as she trembled beneath him, imagining a bond tattoo etched on her skin. 

For my mate I have chosen here, a sunwing to lift us both together.

It didn’t take Kotallo long to join Aloy in ecstasy, the image of her with his tattoo seared into his mind. Thrusting in her hard and fast, he pulled out at the very last second, spilling his seed across her stomach, panting against her breast. 

He sighed as he came down from his high and opened his eyes, smiling up at Aloy, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Kotallo chuckled, pressing one last kiss on her chest before shifting upwards to press another on the tip of her nose. “Menace,” he whispered fondly.

“I don’t know where that came from,” she said, her expression suddenly shy as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Was that okay?”

“It was wonderful,” he assured her, brushing his nose against hers. “I enjoy being at your mercy.”

Standing up, Kotallo groaned as his joints popped. He picked up the forgotten blanket lying on the ground and shook out the sand, before holding it up to Aloy. She sat up, pulling down her bandeau over her breasts, and frowned at the blanket. “Are you sure it’s okay to use that for…” she trailed off, waving her hands over her stomach. 

“You could let my seed dry on your skin, if you want,” Kotallo said with a smirk.

Aloy clicked her tongue as she took the blanket from him, and used it to wipe herself down. He laughed when her face scrunched up in disgust. “We need to bury this where no one can find it.”

Kotallo handed Aloy her linen undershirt and her pants, then removed his pauldron and vambrace. He gathered the other pieces of their armor and put them to the side in a neat pile as Aloy took out their bedrolls, pushing them together. She sighed against Kotallo’s chest when he finally lay down beside her. 

“Where are we going next?” she whispered, her eyes already closed. 

“Thornmarsh,” Kotallo answered readily, though he hadn’t discussed it with the others yet. It seemed to be the logical course of action to his sleep-addled mind.

Aloy yawned. “And after that?”

Kotallo closed his eyes. “Justice.”

Chapter Text

Sweat trickled down Kotallo’s nape, making the ends of his locks stick to his skin. He parted the grass with his fingers and idly wished for a breeze to give him respite from this torturous humidity. 

But the air was deathly still, the leaves did not rustle, and the moonlight did not reveal the positions of the Lowland-born rebel soldiers that were supposedly making their approach. He held his breath, listening intently, but he couldn’t hear anything above the roar of the waterfalls of Fall’s Edge.

The clouds above them drifted slowly, casting large shadows on the raised wooden platforms Kotallo knew were there on the small patch of land in the middle of the two footbridges, where the Lowlanders displayed machine trophies strung up to two dead trees. Sentries would be stationed there, guarding the main entrance to the settlement. 

But it was too dark and they hadn’t lit the braziers, so it looked as if the entrance was unmanned. But that couldn’t be right. 

He was beginning to feel anxious. "I can't see them."

"I can," Aloy whispered beside him, gesturing to her Focus.

Kotallo retrieved his hand, letting the grass go. Trying to spot their soldiers in the dark and in their home territory was useless. That he had to rely on Aloy’s second-sight chafed at him. 

"A stalker will reveal itself just before it attacks, but you never see the Lowlander that kills you,” Chaplain Gerrah used to say.

Still no movement. He rolled his stiff shoulders. “Where are they?”

“Near the water.” Her tone held a hint of awe as she smiled. “I could learn a thing or two from these guys. No wonder they said they didn’t need any help.”

Kotallo understood. Aloy liked to sneak up on her enemies, metal or flesh. She was practically vibrating in her Desert armor, eager to join in on the fight. “Indeed,” he said as he shifted his weight, wincing when the soil squelched audibly under his sandal. “We would only give away our position.”

Aloy huffed softly, grinning now as she continued to look ahead. “They’re in the water,” she said as she tapped her Focus. She narrowed her eyes, then shook her head and reactivated her Focus. “I can’t see them without this.”

“Sentries?” Kotallo asked, straining his ears for any signs of struggle.

“Still clueless.” Aloy placed her right elbow on her knee, then rested her chin on top of her fist.

If it were any other time, Kotallo might’ve been amused by the sight of Aloy completely relaxed in the middle of an ongoing incursion, or admired the way her new Desert headgear wrapped around her head and framed her lovely eyes, but there was so much at stake if they couldn’t take Fall’s Edge.

Despite Kotallo’s objections, Atekka had insisted that the Desert clan remain in the desert and that the Lowland rebels would be enough to take back their settlements from Tekotteh. Drakka had merely shrugged and said they would use the time to get Scalding Spear and their soldiers back into shape. But if they failed to take back Fall’s Edge, they would have no hope of taking back Thornmarsh. 

And if they couldn’t take back Thornmarsh, they had no chance of taking back the Grove.

Aloy released a breath. “Here we go.”

He reached behind him and tightened his hand around the shaft of his spear. “They’ve made contact?”

“One of them’s about to.”

Kotallo held his breath.

Aloy tilted her head. “Huh. That’s…” she trailed off, her lips widening into another grin. 

He clenched his jaw and let out the breath he’d been holding. “Aloy,” he said, hoping that he sounded calm. “Could you please—”

“It’s okay,” Aloy said excitedly, reaching out to pat his thigh, her palm just as sticky with sweat as his was. “They’re purple now.”

“What?” Kotallo hissed. “What do you mean?”

She shot him an apologetic smile. “They made contact with the sentries, but they just let them through,” she said.

“They let them through?” Kotallo repeated, turning his head to look at Fall’s Edge again. The Lowland clan had always been loyal to Hekarro, but he never expected that this would be as easy as Atekka said it would be.

“Come on,” Aloy said, patting his thigh again and moving to the next tall grass. “We’re going to have to move up. Most of them are out of range now.”

He wet his lips, turning around to lift up his hand to signal to the group of soldiers behind them. “Hold your position,” he said.

Konakk nodded at Kotallo along with the other soldiers, waving a mosquito away before it could land on his neck. “Yes, sir.”

Kotallo followed Aloy to the next tall grass, then the next, leaving imprints into the mud, until they reached the totem that stood at the end of the smaller footbridge. 

His breath hitched. 

“What is it?” Aloy whispered.

The colors were muted in the dark, but they were unmistakable. He shouldn’t have been surprised, not after the shock of seeing the whole of Scalding Spear in broad daylight after waking up in the shelter with Aloy. 

The Lowland totem, once painted teal, red, and white, was now painted in Sky colors. 

Though he missed the man terribly, Kotallo was grateful Hekarro hadn’t lived to see what Tekotteh had done to his birth clan.

“Look, it’s Arokkeh.”

Kotallo tore his gaze from the totem as a lone figure stepped from the shadows in the distance. It was indeed Arokkeh. He continued to walk, crossing the long footbridge, and stopping at the other end of the smaller one.

Arokkeh raised his spear and waved it above his head in a circular motion. 

Three times. Clockwise. 

Aloy straightened before Kotallo could stop her. “Well, that was a lot easier than Scalding Spear,” she drawled, stowing her bow behind her. She smirked down at him, tapping her knuckles against the metal on his pauldron before offering her hand to him. “Are you gonna stay there the whole night?”

Kotallo huffed as he took her hand, his knees protesting as he stood. They hadn’t done anything, but he felt exhausted holding so much tension in his body. 

He met Arokkeh’s gaze from afar. The man nodded, his face stern when Kotallo had expected to see…not an outright smile, for he knew Arokkeh, like most Tenakth, was not the type to show his emotions so openly on his face. But he also knew what expression the man made in the face of victory.

The downturned corner of his lips seemed out of place on a man who had been so eager to take back his own settlement.

Kotallo looked behind him and raised his hand, waving it forward to signal the soldiers to come out of their positions. With one last sorrowful look at the totem, he and Aloy crossed the footbridge.

The Lowlanders had taken the first opportunity to make their paints as soon as they stepped foot in the Raintrace. Most of them had already been fully-painted in their traditional white, red, and teal before they had even reached Fall’s Edge. Arokkeh was still covered, the patterns of his paint only slightly ruined from being in the water. 

“Report,” Kotallo said.

Arokkeh pulled his shoulders back at being addressed. “Fall’s Edge is ours,” he said as he stepped to the side and motioned for them to follow him. “Our clan was waiting for the commander’s return, and swiftly provided aid when they realized that she had.”

They followed Arokkeh to the settlement. This close, Kotallo could finally see the sentries, staring at him with wide eyes from above the wooden platforms. Like the totem and the machine trophies that were tied and displayed on the thick ropes, their faces and bodies were painted in Sky colors. 

Fall’s Edge was like one very long footbridge that split into numerous smaller footbridges, with huts made of wood and dried grass built onto the sides. Machine plates were built into the huts, jagged metals that made the entire settlement look unwelcoming. Kotallo knew, without looking too closely, that the metals were painted in Sky colors as well. 

“Where’s everybody?” Aloy asked, standing on her toes for one moment to peek into one of the huts. 

Arokkeh turned to speak over his shoulder, but was interrupted by the sound of coughing and retching. 

No longer distracted by his thoughts, Kotallo finally noticed that the settlement did look empty. Only the sentries by the bridge, as well as the ones underneath the main arch were the only Lowlanders they had encountered. And as if encouraged by Aloy’s question, groans drifted to them from inside the huts. Pained whimpers and crying that accompanied the sounds of more retching. 

Kotallo was tall enough that he did not have to stand on his toes to look over to one of the huts. A Lowlander slumped over an unmoving body lying on a rush pallet, their shoulders trembling with silent sobs.

“Arokkeh, what is this?” he asked in a hushed voice. 

“A sickness,” Arokkeh said, his voice grim as they neared the center of the settlement. 

It seemed like everyone was here, or at least, above where soldiers trained below the Commander’s overlook. They crowded the walkway that led there, Lowland soldiers and rebels alike turning their heads at their arrival. 

They parted in the middle to let them pass, not bothering to lower their voices.

“The twice hero of Barren Light.”

“Hekarro’s last Marshal.”

“Tekotteh doesn’t know what’s coming for him.”

“He took out an entire platoon on his own.”

“How?”

Kotallo caught himself before he could reach out to cover his stump with his hand. Aloy shot him a sympathetic smile, though she looked almost grateful that, for once, it wasn’t her presence that was causing a stir. 

Again, the difference in paint made it easy to distinguish the Lowlanders from the rebels. He didn't remember seeing this many soldiers stationed in Fall's Edge before. It seemed like their number had doubled. Perhaps even tripled.

The soldiers had formed a circle, and in the middle stood Atekka and Dekka. By their feet were soldiers in Sky colors, broken pieces of their Desert armor clinging to their dead bodies. It took Kotallo a second to recognize the Lowlander standing beside the commander, but realized from the shape of the armor that it was Tenallo. He was sans helmet, Sky paint covering his face all the way up to the sides of his head, stopping at the edges of his small blonde mohawk.

The man grinned at seeing Kotallo. “Well, if it isn’t Tekotteh’s bane himself,” he said with an easy laugh. “I didn’t believe the reports, but the Chaplain here assured me you were truly back from the dead.”

Kotallo didn’t return Tenallo’s smile, his face falling instead as he looked at the crumpled bodies on the blood-soaked moss on the floor.

He pointed to one of the bodies. “This one’s Rakkar. He was loyal to Yarra,” he said, remembering the man’s dead-eye stare when he had led Kotallo down to Scalding Spear’s cells what seemed like a lifetime ago. “Did we manage to get information from him before he died?”

Nobody answered him, looking to Atekka instead, but she wasn't even looking at them. Her face was turned, looking at the soldiers that surrounded them, her expression difficult to read. 

Finally, she turned to Arokkeh and Tenallo. "Have everyone return to their posts and get the rest settled."

The two went away without question. The soldiers dispersed, their whispers cut short by Arokkeh’s orders. Kotallo met Dekka's eyes, but the Chaplain merely shook her head, defeat written on the lines of her shoulders.

"What happened?" Kotallo asked, when they were no longer in danger of being overheard.

“Tekotteh ordered the clan to abandon Thornmarsh,” Atekka said, her voice flat. “It’s empty now.”

Kotallo frowned. That didn't make any sense. "Why would Tekotteh give that order?"  

“The Blood Choke,” Dekka supplied upon seeing the confusion on Kotallo’s face. “It was making our people sick.”

“And Tekotteh wasn’t interested in saving the capital,” Tenallo added from behind him, returning after shooing away the other soldiers.

Kotallo kept his face blank as he considered this new development. The Lowlanders would have relocated to the next largest settlement, which was here: Fall’s Edge. That meant they had all the soldiers they needed to storm the Memorial Grove. 

His eyes drifted below, back to Rakkar’s face. The urge to repeat his earlier question bubbled inside him. They hadn’t gleaned any new information from Yarra’s surviving loyal squads back at Scalding Spear. 

Kotallo was anxious to begin planning their next move, but this was obviously not the right moment to ask. 

“What’s the Blood Choke?” Aloy asked softly.

“Before Tekotteh’s betrayal, we had heard reports that red algae was polluting the waters in the Raintrace. But we didn’t get a chance to follow-up on those reports because…” Kotallo trailed off, glancing at Atekka. He couldn’t help but feel as if he was partly to blame for not coming to the Lowland clan’s aid when they needed it. “Regalla had begun her rebellion.”

“A couple of years ago, there was only a thin streak of red in the river, polluting the waters of our minor settlements and depriving them of food and clean drink,” Dekka said, her eyes downcast, as if she was feeling the same guilt he was. “It sickens those who drink the water. Killed the fish our people used to catch. It grew over time, but…to think that it has reached Thornmarsh.”

It was then that Atekka finally turned to face them, but she looked directly at Aloy, her face almost pleading. “You fixed the Wound in the Sand. And now the Desert clan has water again.”

“I—,” Aloy shrugged, looking uncomfortable now that all eyes were on her, but Atekka didn’t allow her to speak.

“So lend me your strength,” she continued, stepping closer to Aloy. “Together, we might be able to find the source of the poison. The longer the Blood Choke remains, the longer my people suffer.”

Aloy nodded. “I’ll do what I can to help.”

“Good. We leave now. I leave Kotallo in charge.”

Kotallo stepped forward, blocking Atekka’s path before she could move further. “I’ll gather a squad—”

“No.”

He pursed his lips, thinking quickly. He trusted Aloy to keep Atekka safe, but they didn’t know what or who could be lurking in the jungle. “Then allow me to come with you, Commander. Leave Arokkeh in charge, instead.”

“Very well,” Atekka said. "But we must go now."

She walked quickly, leading them down the walkway they came from. Soldiers saluted as they passed, but Atekka didn’t stop to acknowledge them as she led them in between huts. 

With each hut they passed, the guilt Kotallo was feeling expanded until it was a physical pain that throbbed in his chest. The sounds of sickness followed them until they exited Fall’s Edge, walking over the west footbridge where the water flowed down into a cascading waterfall.

Thornmarsh had been Hekarro’s home. Perhaps Kotallo should have been more concerned, but wasn’t it only practical to be more focused on their mission? To free the Tenakth of Tekotteh? 

He knew it to be true, but it didn’t erase the guilt, only made it grow the more that he thought it. 

The silence as they traversed the Raintrace was as heavy as the warm air. They stepped over large roots, made difficult to see by the tall trees they belonged to that blocked the moonlight with their thick canopies.

His skin itched beneath his armor and his paint.

Kotallo never thought he would miss the dry heat of the desert. 

“So,” Aloy said when they paused by a stream at Atekka’s suggestion, filling up their waterskins. “Kotallo mentioned you knew Hekarro pretty well.”

Atekka’s smile was tinged with sadness. “He was my commander before he was my chief. I had served in his squad since we were bare-armed youths,” she said, looking out into the distance, in a valley, where a herd of bristlebacks sniffed and pawed at the ground. “Back then, he was a merciless warlord. Determined to destroy any enemy of the Lowland Clan.”

She stoppered her waterskin, lifting her chin with pride. “I was with him the day he took the Grove. Stood guard outside as he claimed the throne within. He entered a conqueror, but returned with the ambition of ending the constant bloodshed between the clans.” 

Aloy frowned. “What changed?”

“Hekarro saw a vision of a woman named Faraday who foretold the growing danger of the machines and said we must unify to stop them,” Kotallo said, pausing to take a refreshing sip. “Faraday called for Marshals to enforce the peace. Then the vision faded, never to be seen again.”

“A vision?” Aloy said, her eyes growing wide. He might’ve been offended that Aloy was more interested in Old World visions more than learning an important part of Tenakth history, but instead he found it endearing.

“Yes,” Atekka said, motioning for them to follow her again. “That vision changed him, gave him new purpose. He became our first Chief, ruler of all Tenakth, and dedicated the tribe to fighting machines instead of each other.”

Kotallo balled his fist. And now, after twenty years of peace, the tribe was fighting each other again. 

“If you were so close with Hekarro,” Aloy said as she unwrapped the bright yellow scarf around her neck and tied it to her satchel, “why didn’t you serve as a Marshal?”

Atekka shrugged, her painted shoulders glistening. “I wanted to serve as one but Hekarro needed someone he could trust to lead his former clan.”

She turned over her shoulder, then, and smirked at Kotallo. “Which was why you ordered Drakka to lead the Desert clan.”

He frowned. That was not how he remembered it. “I merely suggested it, Commander.”

She snorted before turning back to look ahead of her. “Maintaining control of the Desert and Sky clans was difficult enough for Hekarro.” She looked behind her again, raising her hand. “But the title wasn't handed to me. I fought for the honor, as our rites demand.”

“Five days of scars and blood. By the last sunset, I stood alone. The new commander,” she said, her tone wistful as she gazed over a cliff. 

Kotallo hadn’t recognized the route that Atekka had led them on, but now he recognized the winding road off to the side, full of Old World contraptions covered in thick moss, curled against another cliff where an Old World ruin stood.

“Hunting grounds,” Aloy said, watching the penned machines below with curious eyes. 

“Yes,” Atekka said. “Come, I must speak to Ivinna.”

“Do the Nora have hunting grounds as well?” Kotallo asked as they followed Atekka.

Aloy nodded. “So do the Carja. Nobody knows where it started, though.”

He shook his head. “Our soldiers have been training in places like this since before the Clan Wars.”

“Everyone says the same thing, you know,” she said in a teasing tone, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “No one truly knows.”

Kotallo scoffed, just before raising his arm to rub his chin above his vambrace where a mosquito had landed. “Nonsense.”

Aloy took his arm, and helpfully scratched his skin, before jogging up ahead when another Old World ruin came to view, tapping her Focus as she went. Kotallo huffed as he watched her scale the walls of the ruin that was built into the cliff, but remained dutifully by Atekka’s side as she approached the grounds keeper. 

Ivinna whooped joyously upon seeing the commander, and Kotallo half-listened to their conversation while keeping Aloy in his periphery. 

“There used to be a fireclaw at the swamp, Commander. Best avoid passing through there, just in case.”

Atekka shook her head. “Circling around will take more time.”

Kotallo called Aloy when Atekka was ready to go. They walked back to the winding road until they reached the top and into a thicket of trees. 

It didn’t take long for them to reach a bald area of the jungle, where the Lowlanders had built platforms into the dead trees. 

“Commander, a moment,” Kotallo said, reaching out to hold Atekka back by the elbow. It was far too open. The torches were unlit. The inky outlines of the dead trees up ahead stretched upwards into the slowly lightening sky, filling him with dread. “Aloy, could you—”

“Yeah,” Aloy said, tapping her Focus. She slinked away, disappearing into tall grass.

“This place is abandoned,” Atekka said, snatching her elbow from his grip as she scowled at him. “We need to reach Thornmarsh.”

Kotallo’s patience was not holding up very well in this climate. “Forgive me if I want to ensure the safety of the future chief ,” he said with a scowl of his own. At Atekka’s arched brow, he realized how insubordinate he sounded. 

He sighed, hoping Atekka could see the apology in his eyes. “Aloy will come back after a moment. Just—please, Commander, your wellbeing is paramount.”

Atekka took a long breath, looking away from him as she crossed her arms. “Very well.”

Aloy returned after a few minutes, lifting her headgear slightly to flick off sweat from her forehead. “There’s no one around,” she said. “And the fireclaw isn’t there either, but…”

She pursed her lips. “The Blood Choke,” she said after a moment. “It’s all over the swamp.”

“What,” Atekka hissed. She ran without warning, Kotallo and Aloy following quickly behind her down a slope, until the trees became sparse.

Kotallo scrunched up his face as the smell of rot entered his nose. But when they finally laid eyes on the swamp, his mouth parted in shock. 

“It’s gotten so much worse,” Atekka whispered. “How?”

As far as Kotallo’s eyes could see in the growing light, red covered the swamp where murky green water should have been. It looked as if a hundred people had been slain in the water, filling it with blood. 

This blight had earned its name.

The rotting smell grew stronger the closer they got to the water. Dead fish were floating on the surface, some of them tangled in what looked like red vines. Aloy untied her scarf from her satchel and wrapped it around her neck again, holding it up so that it covered her nose. 

Kotallo hadn’t realized how noisy the jungle was, until they crossed the swamp. There were no birds chirping up in the trees, no insects buzzing in their ears. The corpse of a dead rabbit lay near the water, dried up and devoid of flies. 

Like everything else, it had been dead for a while. Only the trees had survived.

Atekka breathed through her mouth as they walked, steady breaths punctuated by soft sobs that were loud in the still air. Aloy glanced at Kotallo, her eyebrows furrowed, but he could only shrug. He was worried about what they would find in Thornmarsh, too.

Kotallo was glad that they hadn’t brought anyone else with them to see it.

The rising sun bathed the Lowland capital in an eerie mist. The machine plates and roofs of Thornmarsh were still painted in Lowland colors, confirming that Tekotteh had indeed abandoned the settlement. 

Kotallo wanted to reach out to Atekka again, to ask her to let him enter the settlement first, but she ran ahead before he could. The wooden footbridge creaked from their weight but soon they were rushing through the arch covered in familiar jagged painted metals, passing by what used to be the herbalist’s open-sided dwelling. 

His heart was pounding from fear. Not from enemies or a possible ambush, it was clear to Kotallo now that Tekotteh would deem it useless to station any of his soldiers here where there was nothing but death. 

But this had been Atekka’s home for longer than Kotallo had been alive, and he needed her whole. He needed her to be focused. 

They slowed to a stop when Atekka did, breathing heavily as she raised her arms and clutched her head. They had reached the center of the settlement. The Blood Choke had wormed its way even here, turning the water in the melee pit into a dark red. 

Atekka circled around until she reached the entrance to the pit, dropping her arms to place a trembling hand on the moss covered trunk of the tree.

“I’m going to take a look around,” Aloy said hesitantly, her voice muffled by her scarf. “See if I find anything.”

Kotallo nodded and watched Aloy jog away, lifting her other hand to her Focus. She disappeared after a moment, leaving him and Atekka alone by the pit. 

He took a tentative whiff through his nose when his heart finally slowed, and had to swallow to keep from gagging. The rotting stench was a great deal worse here than in the swamp.

Kotallo didn’t know how long Aloy had been gone when Atekka decided to move from her spot. He followed ten paces behind her, shadowing her as she circled the melee pit, gazing at the empty huts and open-sided dwellings that surrounded it. 

Some of the huts had vats set out with long wood sticking out of it. When Kotallo peeked in one of them, he saw something dark and viscous.

Fireclaw stew, he realized. They had been making fireclaw stew when the order to abandon their home had been given.

Atekka looked up, suddenly energized at the sound of footsteps. But when Aloy rounded the corner, it was obvious that her search hadn’t been fruitful.

Aloy raised her hands in front of her as she approached, the scarf falling from her nose, revealing her defeated expression. “There’s…there’s nothing. Nothing underground like in the Wound in the Sand,” she said, spreading her hands, gesturing to the settlement. “Nothing from the Old World seems to be causing this.”

The commander turned around to face the melee pit again, her shoulders rising and falling from the force of her breaths. She looked around slowly, as if committing the sight to memory, until her eyes met Kotallo’s.

There was something lurking underneath the helplessness in her eyes that he couldn’t understand. And the longer that they looked at each other, the more that it seemed to grow. 

But then she turned away before he could determine what it was.

“This…can wait,” she said, her voice hollow. “Tekotteh…Tekotteh must be stopped.”

She walked away with her head bent. “Come. There’s nothing left for us here.”

The way back to Fall’s Edge was filled with a tense silence. None of them spoke as they exited Thornmarsh. 

There was a brief moment when Atekka paused just past the footbridge. Kotallo thought that she would gaze one last time at the capital, but she continued on with heavy footsteps without turning around.

He would have led the way back, except Atekka knew the Raintrace better than anyone. And they didn’t have a map, so Aloy could only scout a few paces ahead of them. 

Despite her blank stare, Atekka was able to lead them through the same route that they had passed on the way to Thornmarsh. At least, as much as Kotallo could tell.

By the time they arrived at Fall’s Edge, there were people spearing fish by the cascades. The afternoon sun made the clear water sparkle, hurting the eyes if stared at too long. 

How long did the people of the Lowland clan have until the Blood Choke turned even these waters red?

“Thank you for accompanying me,” Atekka said as they walked through the footbridge. Her voice was still hollow. “Rest. I will find you later.”

“Commander,” Kotallo said before she could go far, grateful that she’d stopped.

He wet his lips and moved closer, lowering his voice so that only Atekka could hear him. They couldn’t waste any more time. If reports of their victory at Scalding Spear had reached Fall’s Edge, that meant that they had reached the Grove too.  

“I understand that it’s a difficult time—,” he paused, closing his eyes briefly, regretting his choice of words, “but I’m afraid there is work to be done.”

“No, I don’t think you understand,” Atekka said over her shoulder. She turned around to face him, looking up at him with the same helplessness twinged with something that he still could not figure out.

It looked almost like guilt—but that didn’t make any sense. Atekka did not cause the Blood Choke. It was not her fault that her people were suffering. 

She dragged in a steady breath, but it shook on the way out. “But you are right. Gather everyone,” she said and turned, walking away before he could stop her a second time. “I will be at the command post.”

Kotallo dug his nails into his palm, inhaling the warm air through his nostrils. He reminded himself that the commander had just seen her home plagued by a blight no one, not even Aloy, knew how to cure. Anyone would be shaken after that.

But Atekka wasn’t just anyone. She couldn’t be just anyone.

“Kotallo?” Aloy said, brushing light fingers on the back of his hand. “You okay?”

He gave a sharp nod, turning to her with a smile. From the look on her face, he knew she wasn’t fooled. His thoughts were a mess, and thinking about Hekarro and what he would do in this situation wasn’t helping. He couldn’t think about the man without also thinking about what had happened to his former home.

And he couldn’t think about the Blood Choke without the guilt that accompanied it. 

But there was nothing to be done about the past. So Kotallo did the only thing he knew how to do: focus on what he could do in the present.

He and Aloy searched the settlement for Arokkeh, hoping to find Dekka and perhaps Tenallo with him. It was easy enough to find him: he stood at the center of the settlement, right next to the herbalist’s dwelling. 

Kotallo looked around slowly at the people in the huts and up on the towers, thinking at first that they were staring at him, only to realize that they were staring at the soldiers lying on the rush pallets at the herbalist’s. They were clutching their stomachs, writhing in pain, groaning loudly for the entire settlement to hear.

They passed through here earlier, right before climbing the walkway. But he didn't remember seeing or noticing them.

“They were given a sleeping draught,” Arokkeh explained when he asked. “It’s the only way they could sleep.”

But one of the soldiers wasn’t moving. At first, the herbalist thought that the man was still asleep, until he felt for a pulse and found none. The poor soldier hadn’t made it through the night.

Other soldiers came to carry the corpse out, removing his tags and handing them to Arokkeh. He brushed his thumb over the metal as they walked away, his broad shoulders visibly drooping. “How do we defeat an enemy that kills us from the inside?” he murmured when he finally raised his head, looking at Kotallo for answers.

But he had no answers—he hadn’t even understood how deadly the Blood Choke was until today!

Kotallo pressed his tongue on the roof of his mouth, stopping himself from speaking without thinking. His ignorance wasn’t an excuse. 

“We must fight the enemy that we can defeat,” he said after a moment. “We have to strike first before Tekotteh realizes how weakened we truly are.”

He placed a hand on Arokkeh’s shoulder before the man could speak. “Once Atekka is chief, we can turn our attentions to the Lowland clan. I do not know yet if there is a way to rid us of this blight, but we can at least make plans to ensure it doesn’t kill anyone else.”

Arokkeh blinked, then nodded after a moment, seeming satisfied with Kotallo’s words. “What do you require of me?”

Kotallo sent him to find Dekka and Tenallo, and told him to meet them at the command post. When he and Aloy arrived, Atekka was standing at the very edge, looking out into the distance, in the direction of Thornmarsh. It could almost be believed that she hadn’t heard them over the roar of the massive waterfall beneath them, but she didn’t turn to acknowledge them even when Kotallo announced their presence. 

He rubbed his mouth in frustration, his fingers trembling against his lips, and thought what he could do to distract himself while he waited for the others’ arrival. 

Ignoring the weight of Aloy’s stare, Kotallo removed his satchel from his shoulder and reached inside. He took out one of the pieces of parchment he brought with him from Barren Light and placed it on the wood floor. He brought out the pen next.

Sometime while he was working, Atekka turned around. He didn’t look up, worried that he might see that same look in her eyes. 

He was done when the others arrived. Tenallo squatted in front of him, his large Sky-painted helmet tucked under his arm. “That’s the Grove,” he said, wonder in his voice as he looked at the parchment, then at the pen in Kotallo’s hand. “And here I thought we’d be going after the Bulwark. Aren’t you worried about your birth clan, Kotallo? Or do you think they’re all loyal to Tekotteh?”

Kotallo scoffed. Of course he was worried about the Sky clan. But he trusted that there were still some of them that saw sense. There had already been whispers about Tekotteh’s rule as commander even before the man had sent Kotallo to the Kulrut. 

No. The Sky clan’s loyalty was not the reason they’d be going after the Grove first. “The Bulwark has stood unyielding since the birth of the Sky clan,” he said.

“What makes it so impenetrable?” Aloy asked. 

“It's made of massive boulders, impervious to any frontal assault,” Dekka said, lifting her hand high above her and sweeping it through the air. “No army has ever penetrated it.”

“Not for a lack of trying,” Tenallo drawled as he straightened. “Really, though, you were born and raised there. You sure there aren’t any secret passageways we can use?”

“There is no getting into the Bulwark,” Kotallo snapped, standing up to meet Tenallo’s eyes, his hand tightening around the pen. “Our best course of action is to march onto the Grove where the Commander will challenge Tekotteh and take the throne. Once the Grove is ours, we can call on the current Sky commander to pledge their fealty.”

Kotallo looked up at Atekka, seeking acknowledgement, and his heart sank. She was staring blankly at the parchment.

Swallowing his disappointment, Kotallo turned to Dekka. “Has anything changed in the layout since you were last there, Chaplain?”

Dekka shook her head, though she looked uncertain. “Only the paint.”

“Then there are still only three entrances to the Grove,” he said, blinking away the image of the Memorial Grove in Sky colors and pointing a finger to the trail to the north. “Drakka and his troops can enter through here, and through the arena. That leaves the main entrance to the Grove, and the entrance to the Maw.”

He crouched again, adding more to the diagram. “Two footbridges to the Grove. One from the south, and the other to the east.”

“They will be waiting for us,” Arokkeh said, crossing his arms. “Our troops will be pelted with arrows before we could cross.”

Kotallo tapped the parchment with the pen, his eyes widening.“I may have a solution to that,” he said, drawing the Wings of the Ten atop the crag next to the south footbridge.

He stood up again, pointing to the diagram as he spoke, amending his earlier statement. “Drakka can divide his troops so that they can enter through the arena and through the Maw. While we go through the main entrance of the Grove.”

Kotallo looked at Atekka again. This time, she looked back, but her eyes were dead when she gave a weak nod. 

But he wouldn’t be deterred. He could only hope that Atekka would be able to shake off the despair that clouded her thoughts as they prepared for the oncoming battle for the Grove.

This was the right thing to do.

They were so close.

With a deep breath, Kotallo turned to Arokkeh. “Get me your fastest runner.”

Chapter Text

There was a stillness in the Sheersides where Kotallo grew up that was absent in the Raintrace. Birds sang during the day, insects trilled at night, and the waterfall was a consistent barrage to the senses no matter what time of day it was. 

But the sounds he had gotten used to seemed far away as Kotallo stood in the middle of the dirt path away from Fall’s Edge, staring up at the two Lowland totems standing on each side of the path, their paint shiny and new and right. Like Drakka, Arokkeh had made it one of his priorities to have the whole settlement repainted. Kotallo would need to do the same for the Grove, if they succeeded.

No, not if. When. 

Kotallo closed his eyes, breathing in the jungle air. He couldn’t think about failing. Not today.

The rhythmic sound of bare soles thumping on soil and dirt steadily grew closer, feet marching in unison. But there was one that was much nearer that didn’t match the rest, light footsteps Kotallo would know anywhere. 

Opening his eyes, Kotallo looked up at the pinkening horizon, squeezing the hand that slipped in his. He turned to Aloy and smiled in surprise, his eyes lingering on her bare arms, then on her stomach. “It suits you,” he said.

Aloy raised her other hand and ran her fingers over the colorful cropped, beaded top of her Lowland armor, then over the metal chestpiece. “I don’t know which one I like more, this or the one I got from Scalding Spear,” she said, looking down at her colorful heavy skirts. “Though this one’s definitely better for the jungle.”

“Soon you’ll have more,” he murmured, imagining her surrounded by snow, in bright Sky armor. 

“They sell armor at the Grove?”

“At the Maw of the Arena,” Kotallo said, squeezing her hand one last time before letting go. “We also have special armor there that is only given to warriors who complete all of the challenges.”

Aloy arched her brow at his tone. “You think I can’t complete all of the challenges? Against machines?”

The image of her at the Arena, basking in the cheers and attention, filled him with anticipation. “You would be welcome to try,” he said, chuckling when she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, I’ll complete any challenge you can throw at me. After we take back the Grove,” Aloy said, her back straightening with confidence. He found himself doing the same. 

The marching stopped. Kotallo turned around and scanned the soldiers crowding the path. The Desert-born rebels were few in number, the Sky-born rebels only a handful, their face paints distinct among the mass of Lowland soldiers. 

The few Lowlanders who had recovered from their sickness were among them, armed and armored like the rest, standing next to Dekka whose white hair made her stand out. Some squads were carrying the flat metal parts they had stripped from the Wings of the Ten in the middle of the jungle and then the others from the Stand of the Sentinels. They carried them over their heads, their faces covered in shadow.

Kotallo saluted Atekka as she and Arokkeh approached, but it was Arokkeh that spoke. “We’re ready, Marshal.”

“Good.” Kotallo glanced to the side where Atekka now stood. He pursed his lips, waiting. 

Atekka looked back at him after staring at the sky. “We should move now if we want to reach the Grove by nightfall,” she said.

Kotallo glanced back at the soldiers. “Will you not address the troops, Commander?” he asked softly.

“The others will meet us in Lowland’s Path,” Atekka said, already stepping forward. “I will address them there.”

He stared at Atekka’s back, breathing deeply, before turning to Arokkeh. “We’re moving out.”

Arokkeh raised his hand above his head, repeating the order in a louder voice. 

The mist slowly dissipated as the sun peeked out from over the hills, shining its rays through the trees and on the dirt path. Atekka walked ahead of them all, her shoulders stiff with a tension that worried Kotallo. He knew that she had not completely shaken off her despair after that first day. In front of their troops, the commander helped them prepare for the awaited battle and cared for the sick, but the fire in her eyes would die as soon as Kotallo took out the diagram he had drawn of the Grove. 

Kotallo understood her trepidation. Everything hinged on her successfully defeating Tekotteh. If she failed, the rebellion might never recover. 

They journeyed out in the open, sticking to the well-traveled path in between the thickets of trees. Birds flew out of the canopies and bushes as they passed, as if heralding their advance. They did not bother to hide, their enemies at the Grove surely knew they were coming.

Aloy turned her head as they approached a waterfall, its waters clear and twinkling from the light of the sun as it flowed from the rocks down to the river. “There’s someone over there,” she said, slowly reaching for her bow.

“Hold.” Kotallo placed his hand on her shoulder and looked past the footbridge leading east, where mist still obscured the path between the trees. Several figures stepped out of the mist, marching in a similar formation they were. 

At the very front stood Gattak, leading the soldiers across the footbridge. Her eyes widened as soon as she saw him, as did the others’. “Marshal Kotallo,” she breathed, glancing at his stump before looking back up at him. She saluted him, her fist making a loud thud against her chest. “Reporting for duty, sir.”

“At ease, Gattak,” he said, looking behind her to the line of soldiers that stared owlishly at him, remembering to salute after a moment of shock. They looked too many to have come from just Fenrise, and he was proven right when Gattak mentioned two other Lowland settlements.

Gattak walked ahead of them to report to Atekka, when Kotallo noticed Aloy smiling strangely at him. He knocked his knuckles lightly against hers. “What is it?”

Aloy hesitated, her eyes narrowing. Finally, she chuckled, and said, “It’s just…you don’t seem to mind as much now when people stare at you.” 

“At my stump, you mean?” he said as they went around a curve. They all immediately looked above them at the Lowland soldiers from other settlements, crossing the footbridge that hung between two moss-covered mesas. They were making their way to the other side, heading to Lowland’s Path like they were. 

Aloy snorted. “Yeah. Like right now.”

Kotallo looked away from the soldiers and made a low humming sound in his throat, quietly agreeing with her. “The other Tenakth look at me with apprehension,” he said in a low voice, before smirking at her.

It startled a laugh out of her, one that had some soldiers looking behind them, unused to a show of levity right before a decisive battle. They ignored them.

“And you like that,” Aloy concluded, wrinkling her nose. 

“I do,” he admitted with a shrug. “It is a vast improvement from how they looked at me when I was first maimed.”

Her smile fell at the reminder, just as his would every time he was reminded of Aloy’s upbringing. “Tribes,” she said in a soft voice through gritted teeth.

It was the same thing she had said at the river next to the Shattered Kiln. Kotallo's lips quirked at the memory. “Indeed.”

It was in the middle of the afternoon when they finally spotted the tall tower of Lowland’s Path rising up from above a hill, past a small stream. Startled birds flew from the trees as a single voice rang into the air, echoing against the valley. Then came the beat of drums and chanting.

They climbed up the hill after Atekka, the sounds growing louder and louder as they neared the top. And when they did, Kotallo’s eyes widened, his senses assaulted by a sea of red, teal, and white. Lowlanders gathered around the tower they built in the large dead tree, dancing to the beat of the drums. Each percussive blow reverberated in his chest. The Lowlanders didn’t stop their dancing upon seeing them, only beckoned them over. 

Atekka immediately joined, darting to the middle of the largest group of dancers. The soldiers that had marched with them joined in after her, even the ones from the Desert and Sky clans.

They were up in the tower too, and filled the southern path as far as his eyes could see. 

So many. Arokkeh had provided a number to Kotallo during one of their war meetings, but seeing what it amounted to with his own eyes was a shock. He did a quick tally, adding the number Drakka’s runner gave to them a day before.

Regalla didn’t have this many rebels fighting for her, and yet she had been able to get past their defenses at the Grove, albeit with help from the inside. 

They wouldn’t have the same advantage, of course. But he couldn’t see how Tekotteh would be able to escape his fate when they had this many soldiers following Atekka into battle.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Aloy said, her voice a near-yell. Her lips were spread into a wide grin and her eyes sparkled in the afternoon sun. “Why didn’t they do this at Barren Light?”

“We didn’t have drums,” Kotallo said, chuckling. He caught himself before he could ask if the Nora had any pre-battle ritual dancing, his heart breaking for Aloy as he realized that she might not know. 

It seemed so long ago now, but it was difficult to forget how hesitant he had been to be with Aloy, to offer himself to her. Back then, he was an outlander in the east, a man without a home. 

But they were in the Clan Lands now, among his people. After today—and later, after Meridian—if he offered his home to her, would she accept?

Aloy brushed her fingers against his. “Nervous?” she asked. 

If Kotallo wasn’t conscious of the soldiers looking their way, he would have taken her hand in his. He wet his lips, thinking of the right words.  

He shrugged instead, holding back a sigh. Now was not the time. He would just have to ensure that he lived through this day so that he could ask her. “This is an important battle for my people.”

“Important to you too,” Aloy said, jutting her chin towards the commander. “I know how much it means to you to see her on the throne. Or at least, to see Tekotteh out of it.”

Her voice trailed off at the end at an odd note that Kotallo couldn’t help but frown at her. She fidgeted with the linen wrapped around her hands, her lips pressed tightly together. 

Kotallo watched her for a moment, waiting for her to speak. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, humming in thought. “You took me to the Stand of the Sentinels when we stripped that plane.”

“Yes,” he said.

“And I’ll finally be able to see those Visions at the Grove…” she trailed off, looking away for a moment. 

He turned to face her fully. “Yes,” he said again, waiting.

“I still need to see the great waters you talked about,” Aloy said after a moment. “We, uh, didn’t get a chance while we were at Fall’s Edge.”

Kotallo smiled, giving in to the desire to touch her. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around her elbow, squeezing gently. “There is much we still have left to do. There is still Meridian, after today.” There was also the issue with the Sky clan, about bringing the commander into the fold, but he pushed that thought to the back of his mind. They would worry about that later. “But we will get our chance, Aloy. I promised to take you there, and I will.”

Aloy opened her mouth again to say something else, but the drums suddenly stopped and they both looked towards the soldiers. 

The soldiers parted for Atekka as she made her way up the wooden steps of the tower, to be seen by everyone. It was time to address their troops, time to bolster their courage for the battle ahead. 

Atekka met Kotallo’s eyes from afar as she held onto the railing and inclined her head. 

Kotallo squeezed Aloy’s elbow one last time before making his way over to the commander, readying himself to recount the battle plan to their troops. They parted for him too, saying his name in hushed voices as he passed. 

He climbed up the steps and stood behind Atekka, nodding to her to signal that he was ready for his part of her speech. But she turned away from the railing and faced him, returning his nod before moving to stand beside him. 

Kotallo stiffened, suddenly unsure of what to do. “Commander?” he said, but Atekka jutted her chin over to the railing. 

He tamped down on the frustration bubbling in his chest. Atekka was meant to address the troops, not him. She was the commander, the one leading them into battle. Why was she pushing this duty onto him?

But they couldn’t keep their soldiers waiting, and if Atekka didn’t want to address them, then he would. 

Their troops stared up at Kotallo curiously as he approached the railing. Perhaps, like him, they were wondering why it was he who was addressing them now, instead of the esteemed commander. He dragged in a breath. His mind was working quickly, though he tried to maintain an image of calm as he stared at the painted faces looking up at him. 

“Tenakth!” he bellowed. “For years, we've fought against those who sought to oppress us. We fought against a tyrant intent on seeing our tribe destroyed and our people sacrificed in the Sun-Ring! They burned down our homes, murdered our people.”

Kotallo pointed his finger north. “Make no mistake: our enemy of today may wear Tenakth armor and Tenakth paint, but he seeks to do the same thing!” 

“He knows we’re coming. He will show us no mercy. So we will do the same and show him our teeth!” The soldiers bared their teeth in response, and hollered into the air.

“We will enter through the Grove while the Desert commander leads his troops through the trail north of the Arena and through the entrance of the Maw. Your squad leaders will inform you of the agreed upon signal.” Kotallo stepped to the side and pointed to Atekka. “And after tonight, we will have a new chief!”

“We will fight with honor! We will fight with the skill and courage of the Ten!” he yelled, bringing out his spear and pointing it to the sky. The soldiers did the same. 

For a moment, Hekarro's face and that of the other marshals entered his mind. He would be fighting for them tonight. “We will take the blood owed for our fallen!”

Kotallo allowed a moment for the troops to howl and thump each other in the back, to stomp their feet and to cry out. 

“Leaders!” he said, spotting them right away in the crowd from their salutes. “Assemble your squads! We march for the Grove!”

The noise did not stop even as they gathered around their squad leaders, putting their fists to their chests and nodding to Kotallo before they went. Atekka stepped forward to stand beside him, but he refused to look at her.

“Well done,” she murmured.

Kotallo let out a heavy breath to dispel the growl rising in his throat. “You were supposed to address them, Commander,” he said, clenching his fist by his side as he finally locked eyes with her.

Atekka shrugged. “This is your plan, Kotallo. Did you not return to us solely for this day?” she said, shooting him a look he couldn’t decipher. “It felt right to have you address them, instead of me.”

He studied the commander’s face. She was tired, as they all were from days of frantic preparation. But the lack of bloodlust, the eagerness to do battle seemed to be missing, as if she was not looking forward to this day at all. 

“Is something wrong, Commander?” Kotallo asked.

Atekka exhaled and looked away from him to watch the soldiers. “I never imagined this day would come,” she said with a mirthless chuckle. “Never thought I would be chief.”

“You will be a good chief,” he said, hoping to put her mind at ease. “There is no one better than you to lead us.”

She made a low humming noise in agreement, but the expression on her face told him differently, that she didn’t believe him. Kotallo thought of what else to say, but Atekka raised her hand towards the steps.

“Shall we?” she said, then walked on ahead. 

Kotallo followed her down, but he lingered among the soldiers. He moved from one squad to another, checking their gear and answering their questions as they marched through the jungle, passing Old World contraptions that stood tall on the hill, rusting in the sun. 

They did not bother with the footbridge hanging over a small creek, not wanting to stall their journey. When Aloy assured them they wouldn’t be attacked by the clawstriders patrolling the small field a few ways away the path, they continued forward, not wanting to waste any of their supplies on machines.

The sun had long disappeared from the sky when they finally set eyes on the inky silhouette of the Wings of the Ten resting atop the crag. “It’s just like your drawing,” Aloy said, pointing to it. 

Kotallo nodded, taking in slow breaths to calm the racing of his heart. They looked past the bridge when they reached the crag, but it was too dark to see anything. He expected faint glows from torches, at least, to pierce through the fog. Frowning, he turned to Arokkeh and Tenallo, reaching out to clasp each of their forearms. 

“May your blade be sharp, and your arm strong,” Arokkeh said with a firm nod.

“Ha! Was that a joke?” Tenallo said, his voice muffled by his helmet. “Cause the Marshal’s only got one arm?”

“I would not joke about that,” Arokkeh hissed, before turning to Kotallo. “I meant no offense, Marshal.”

Kotallo huffed, shaking his head in amusement. “None taken.”

“Strike true out there,” Tenallo said. He raised a finger, wagging it in front of his face. “You still owe me a rematch.”

Kotallo nodded as they saluted him. “We will see each other on the battlefield,” he said to them both. 

They left Arokkeh and Tenallo there, along with a quarter of their troops. The rest of them marched further east, then north. Soon, the lush greens of the jungle faded into the arid lands of the Shining Wastes, the air around them changing as soon as Kotallo’s sandals hit rocky ground.

While Kotallo was confident that they had the advantage of numbers, it would be unwise to give the enemy archers easy targets by lighting their own torches. So they did not, and let the moon light their way.

He let out a shaky breath as soon as he saw the Grove from across the footbridge. Two torches illuminated its arch, but nothing else. It was only because of the bright moon that he was able to make out the barricades made of sharpened wooden stakes lined up in front of the Grove’s entrance. Though he couldn’t be sure from this distance, the barricades looked to be the same ones they had built during Regalla’s rebellion, patched up with additional stakes.

How surreal it was to be on this side of the battlefield, waiting outside to attack the Grove instead of inside to defend it. 

Kotallo looked behind him and nodded to Konakk. “Form up.”

“Yes, sir,” Konakk said, before turning to face the rest of the troops, both of his hands raised above his head, signaling to the squads. 

Two soldiers moved in front of him, carrying the metal plating from the Wings of the Ten above them. They set it down on the ground, covering Kotallo’s view of the Grove. 

“How does it feel to see it again?”

Kotallo turned to his right and shook his head at Dekka. “I’m not sure what to feel,” he said, staring at the metal plating, the Grove’s entrance in his mind’s eye. He couldn’t help but remember the last time he had seen it, the last time he was inside. “How did you know that I would return?”

Dekka frowned at him at first, but seemed to remember after a moment. “I didn’t know, only hoped.” She smiled, placing a hand on his pauldron. “The Ten answered my prayers.”

He huffed. “You prayed that they would bring me back on swift wings,” he said as he looked at the ground, thinking of Jetakka, and of all of the ones they lost at Barren Light. “If I had come back sooner—”

“You are here now. That is what’s important,” Dekka said with a slight shake to his pauldron. She leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “Hekarro would be proud of you.”

Kotallo clenched his jaw and raised his head, lifting his eyes to the sky. His breath quickened at the sight of the moon nearing its zenith. It was almost time. His tears could wait.

He turned to Dekka. “We will honor him and the others later as we are celebrating our victory.”

She nodded and stepped back, bringing out her spear. Kotallo and the others did the same just as Atekka joined them, staring up at the moon as he had been.

Atekka frowned when she caught him staring at her. “Do not worry, Marshal,” she said as she took her place between him and Dekka. “I am ready to fulfill my duty to our people.”

Her words did little to banish the unease he felt. Kotallo attributed it to nerves, anxious for the battle to begin. He was certain everyone felt the same, as evidenced by the heavy silence that fell, despite the number of people in the field. 

He glanced up at the moon again. Almost there.

Aloy let out a slow breath beside him on his left as she shifted her weight. “Come on, come on,” she muttered. 

Kotallo looked up again, searching the sky, his hand tightening on his spear. Any minute now.

They all gasped and turned their heads to the right when they heard it: a far-off explosion. Then another, closer this time. The Desert clan had made their move.

“Charge!” Kotallo and Atekka yelled at the same time. They crossed the footbridge, their bodies lowering into a half-crouch behind the metal plating as they pushed forward. 

Water splashed on either side of them as their troops crossed the small river. As soon as the first row of rebels were out of the water, Kotallo shouted, “Fire!”

Burning arrows immediately flew overhead, lighting up the battlefield with more than just the pale glow of the moon. A second volley of arrows was released as they passed the smaller, moss-covered Wings of the Ten scattered at the front of the Grove. That’s when Kotallo finally heard the first thunk against the metal plating in front of them. 

Then another, then many more at once.

No dents, but Kotallo wasn’t going to leave anything to chance. He moved in front of Atekka. “Stay behind me!”

Somewhere behind them, someone screamed. It was louder than all the battlecries in the field, piercing through the ringing in Kotallo's ears. Then came a second, then another. 

Kotallo jolted at a loud crack to their left. A large branch had fallen on the ground, fire eating at its leaves before spreading to the nearby grass. 

“We’re almost there!” Aloy yelled next to him. “Get ready!”

The shouts grew louder, enemy soldiers’ voices joining the rebels’ as they neared. The ground vibrated beneath them as countless feet rushed towards them.

“NOW!”

The soldiers in front of them let out a battle cry, then rushed forward with the metal plating, crashing into the first enemies they came into contact with. 

Kotallo raised his spear. “FOR HEKARRO!”

He fought his way to the steps, the rebels rushing along behind him. He could hear nothing but the clang of metal hitting metal, and the furious cries of the soldiers all around them. They rushed through the arch, only to be met with more spears pointed their way. The Grove’s stone walls were still covered in moss, and only a few edges were painted in Sky colors, but Kotallo had no time to look more as they battled their way through the soldiers that stood in their way in the courtyard.

Kotallo had no time at all to watch the commander’s six, no time to check on Aloy, no time at all except to fight for his own life. Vicious taunts accompanied the sharp blades that sought to wound him, but he paid them no mind as he swept his spear around him, slicing enemy flesh left and right. 

A lucky kick to his chest had him falling against the first Vision’s stone pedestal, the bamboo weave and machine plating in his armor thankfully protecting his back. 

Come—---soldier—of—The Ten

Kotallo jerked his head back, managing to dodge a blade by a few inches, before thrusting his own spear through his attacker’s belly. 

“Marshal!” Atekka’s voice rang above the chaos. She and Dekka were waving at him from further inside the Grove, in the hallway. 

“Go, Commander!” Kotallo yelled, parrying an attack from an older soldier. “I will follow!”

He swiped at the one who attacked him next, the poor soldier releasing an anguished cry as he fell to his knees, clutching his face. 

Kotallo sprinted past him, ignoring the urge to scan the courtyard for Aloy, then finally ran past the arch. There was fighting even in the room with the Sky and Desert Visions, but he only spared the room a glance. That wasn’t where he needed to go.

He had expected more fighting, but the further down the hallway he reached, the quieter it became. When he was finally standing before the arch that led to the throne room, the sounds of fighting were far away.

Something wasn’t right.

He dashed through the great hall, leaping on the raised platform where Hekarro witnessed Faraday’s vision. Atekka, Dekka, and three other rebels were standing in front of the throne.

They turned at the sound of Kotallo's footsteps through the hall, their confused expressions making him skid to a stop just below the steps. 

“Tekotteh isn’t here!” Atekka yelled.

“What?” Kotallo hissed, quickly looking around at the many alcoves. “But—,” he looked up by chance, creeping shadows catching his attention. There were soldiers up on the broken roof, atop the stone beams, aiming their blastslings and explosive javelins at Atekka.

His heart in his throat, Kotallo ran up the steps. He raised his left arm, reaching out to Atekka as if he still had his hand there. She finally looked up, just as the explosives were released. 

He wasn’t going to make it!

“COMMAN—!”

The throne room burst with bright light.

Then it went dark.

Chapter Text

The first thing Kotallo saw when he came to was a spear, lodged in the stone on the ground right next to his head. It was not strange to see Tekotteh’s spear in his dreams—sometimes it was the first thing that appeared to him. Sometimes it was lodged in Hekarro’s back, sometimes in Regalla’s, sometimes in his. 

Kotallo felt a hand on his shoulder, pulling him, rolling him onto his back. His vision blurred even more as his cheek left the cold stone beneath him, the world turning too fast, too soon.

His nostrils filled with smoke as he held his breath. This was it. He hoped he'd be granted a clean slice in this dream and not the hasty hacking that his arm had been cruelly subjected to. 

“Blood of the Ten,” the face above him said, voice muffled and distorted by the pain in Kotallo’s head. “He’s still alive!”

The Sky clan’s mighty son , his mind supplied in Tekotteh’s mocking tone.

“Don’t just stand there! Kill him!”

No, that…that wasn't supposed to be what came next. Kotallo blinked hard, and again, and again. The pounding of his heart grew louder as the haze in front of his eyes slowly cleared. The vague shape and lines above him rearranged itself into the frightened face of a soldier looking down at him with eyes growing wider and wider behind Sky paint the more that Kotallo’s awareness improved.

That hadn't been Tekotteh’s spear. It was Hekarro’s—the one he had placed to mark the spot he had seen Faraday’s Vision.

This wasn’t a dream.

As if he heard Kotallo’s thoughts, the soldier raised his spear with a panicked gasp.

Kotallo rolled to his right just before the soldier thrust his spear, knocking the soldier off his feet. The soldier’s unprotected head banged hard against the stone beneath him and he did not get back up again.

The pain was almost unbearable, Kotallo’s knees almost gave out as he stood. But he gritted his teeth as he picked up his spear a few steps from the unconscious soldier on the ground.

The throne room was in an even worse state now than when Tekotteh had betrayed them. Fire and smoke curled around the debris, and there was more of it now than before. But the image of it was eerily similar that he half-expected to see the bodies of the fallen marshals lying around the room. 

But no, they were not here. The unmoving bodies around in the room now did not belong to them. 

“He’s just one man.”

Kotallo turned his head at the voice. Three soldiers in Sky paint were standing by the pillars, their eyes wide and their weapons drawn. They flinched when he took a step forward.

“He's just one man,” the one in the middle said, slapping the arm of the soldier next to him, though it seemed more like he was talking to himself. “A one-armed man. We can take him.”

Kotallo lifted his arm, pointing his spear at the one who spoke and bared his teeth at him. “You are welcome to try.”

The three soldiers didn’t make the mistake of facing him one at a time. They rushed him all at once. 

He widened his stance, flattening his feet on the ground, waiting for their approach. When they were close enough, he stepped forward and slashed to the left, then stepped forward again and brought his spear back to slash to the right. The soldiers cried out, blood from their torsos splashing onto the ground. 

It had been a while since Kotallo completed this maneuver so it was Aloy’s voice he heard in his head as he prepared to turn. Bring your knee lower to the ground and use your other leg to push.

By the end of it, all three soldiers were on the ground, their blood staining their armor and the hallowed stone beneath them. 

Kotallo’s heart stopped as more soldiers stormed in from behind the throne, before he realized that they were wearing Desert paint and armor. “Where is your commander?” he shouted to them as he sprinted up the steps, already looking away and to the side, catching a glimpse of Dekka’s white hair. 

Kotallo’s steps faltered, but he pushed himself forward, and dropped to his knees next to her.

No, next to them.

Dekka was lying face down, the paint on her back singed away by fire, revealing badly burnt skin. Beneath her was Atekka. 

“Shit.”

Drakka knelt beside Kotallo. He could see Drakka staring at him from his periphery, looking to him for answers. 

Kotallo had fallen unconscious early during Regalla’s incursion. When he woke, everyone he cared about had already been killed. He wasn’t even given the chance to defend his chief. 

It happened again. He had been too far away to save Atekka from the blast. It was as if the Ten themselves had ordained that he would lead a cursed life, fated to watch the people he swore to protect die in front of his very eyes. 

Please. Kotallo placed his spear on the ground behind him and reached out with a shaky hand, placing his fingers against Atekka’s neck.

Nothing.

He clenched his jaw, fighting the angry tears that were pooling in his eyes, and moved his fingers higher. Please. Let this time be different.

Nothing, still, and then—Kotallo gasped as he felt it, a faint hint of life beating against his fingertips. She was still alive!

“Healer,” he whispered. He turned to Drakka, whipping his head around frantically. “Get a healer!”

Kotallo looked away from Drakka but heard him sigh in relief as he waved their healer over. He stared at Dekka next, but the healer arrived before Kotallo could reach out and check for her pulse as well. 

“They’re still fighting out there,” Drakka said, nudging his arm. “We have to go, Kotallo.”

Kotallo wanted to stay, and he wanted to shout to Drakka to just go. He closed his eyes, feeling the exhaustion seeping through his skin and making a home in his bones. He didn’t want to lose anyone else. 

Aloy. He opened his eyes, pushing himself off the ground. Aloy was still out there. 

“Come,” he said to Drakka as he picked up his spear. “Let us end this.”

His heart heavy, Kotallo turned away from Atekka, hoping that she would survive her wounds. His feet thundered down the steps as he hoped Dekka was still miraculously alive. Brandishing his spear as he and Drakka and his soldiers rushed through the arch, Kotallo hoped that Aloy was unharmed.

The soldier that had discovered Kotallo was still alive groaned on the ground, but they ran past him.

They readied themselves for battle, but when they arrived they found that the remaining enemy soldiers were already laying down their weapons, outnumbered and outmaneuvered.

Kotallo scanned the courtyard frantically, finding Aloy’s bright hair in the middle of the rebels. Her shoulders sagged when her eyes found him, reading the despair that must have been apparent on his face. He felt the weight of the rebels’ stares on him, and for once he felt no desire to cover his stump. It was his face he wanted to cover, his whole being he wanted to hide. 

He had failed them. Led them right into a trap that almost cost them their commander. 

Kotallo hoped that only Aloy could see the grief ravaging his insides as he stood on top of a large rock to address them all. He didn’t remember the specifics of what he had said to them, his mouth moved on its own. 

Tekotteh ran away like a coward. They walked into a trap. Commander Atekka lives. But the Grove was theirs. 

It seemed to have been the right thing to say. The rebels celebrated their victory, thinking that the war may not have ended today, but at least they won the battle for the Grove.

But that wasn’t true. Kotallo didn’t have the heart to tell them. Atekka may have survived, but her life was hanging in the balance. Tekotteh would have undoubtedly hid behind the Bulwark’s impenetrable wall, out of their reach. 

They might’ve taken over the Grove, but victory was far from their grasp. 

“Here.”

Kotallo looked up and scowled at the cup of clear liquid in Aloy’s hand. “I am not in the mood for spirits.”

Aloy took his hand and wrapped his fingers around the cup. “It’s just water,” she said as she took a seat on the hard ground beside him, her voice almost too soft to be heard among the din of cheers and laughter from the soldiers celebrating just beyond the ancient stone that separated the healers’ from the rest of the Maw. 

The dryness in his throat made itself known when he swallowed his regret at how he'd spoken to her. Sighing, he lifted the cup to his lips, downing the lukewarm water in one go. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was.

Kotallo set the cup on the ground, and brushed his knuckles up Aloy’s arm as he straightened. She looked sideways at him, her eyes soft. After a moment, she nodded and wrapped her arms around her knees.

He turned his head to look at the curtain of beads that hid the healers’ dwelling from view, intimately familiar with what was inside. He had visited the healer many times when he was still Hekarro’s Marshal for cuts, gashes, the odd broken finger. And that was where they took him when they cauterized the remains of his left arm, where he had last spoken to Dekka before he was taken away.

Now Dekka was the one inside, along with Atekka.

How could he have let this happen? How had he not foreseen this? 

“So what now?”

Kotallo took a deep breath before opening his eyes, readying himself for the verbal attack he was sure was coming, based on Drakka’s tone. “We plan our next steps. Focus on what we can do for now,” he said, looking across from him where the commander was perched on top of one of the bigger chunks of stone that had fallen from the ceiling during the battle. 

Drakka scoffed. He leaned back to glance to his left, at the rowdy soldiers chanting and dancing. “There’s nothing we can do. We lost,” he said, his teeth showing as he spoke. “And I don’t like lying to my people.”

“He didn’t lie,” Aloy pointed out, tensing as Drakka stepped closer to them. 

Clicking his tongue, Drakka placed his hands on his hips, widening his stance as he shot Aloy a glare before pointing a finger at Kotallo. “We may have taken the Grove, but how long is it gonna remain ours before Tekotteh comes back with his army?”

Kotallo shook his head. “Tekotteh is likely hiding within the Bulwark’s walls. He’s too much of a coward to leave it now.”

Drakka barked a laugh. “It’s too early to be even thinking about what we're gonna do about Tekotteh.” He pointed his thumb towards the curtain of beads. “You should start thinking about what we're gonna do if Atekka doesn't live through the night.”

Before Kotallo could speak, Drakka stepped back, running his palm over his slicked back hair. “I left Scalding Spear defenseless, and for what?” 

Kotallo closed his eyes, willing himself to slow his breathing as Drakka left in a huff, slamming his hand on the stone as he walked away. He needed to be calm. As much as he hated to admit it, Drakka was right. There was much to plan for in the event Atekka didn't survive. 

Drakka was still new to command and he was young. Unlike Atekka, whose actions were legendary across all clans, Drakka's influence was only notable within the Desert clan. 

Would the others follow Drakka if Kotallo asked the Desert Commander to lead them? Would he even make for a good chief?

Kotallo wracked his brain. But if not Drakka, who else? 

The one good thing about this was that Tekotteh could not order more Tenakth to be sacrificed to the Carja if two of the three clans were rebelling against him. But even that wasn’t sustainable. If they couldn’t get to Tekotteh, the Lowland and Desert clans would grow tired of waiting and would go back to their own settlements. Eventually they would start thinking only of themselves and their people.

Without a chief to lead them, the tribe would go back to warring against each other. It would be the Clan Wars all over again.

He couldn't let that happen.

Kotallo stood, knocking over the empty cup by his feet. Aloy looked up at him, her brows furrowed over her eyes. “Where are you going?”

He was eager to leave, to do something. “I need to find Tenallo. To see if his interrogations yielded results. I need to learn all that I can for—,” he closed his eyes briefly, “—for when the commander recovers.” 

“Okay,” Aloy said, then paused. But Kotallo didn’t invite her to come along with him. She sighed and nodded. “Go. I’ll be here.”

Kotallo lifted his hand to her cheek, his fingers carding through her hair. She leaned into his hand, the understanding in her eyes making them shine bright in the dimmed space.

“Thank you,” he said, before turning away.

It was as if all of their troops were gathered at the Maw. Kotallo squeezed through the laughing soldiers that formed a small circle where others danced to the beat of drums. Voices drifted from above him and he saw that there were soldiers on the many overlooks as well, grinning widely as they watched the performance below them. 

The sounds of merriment followed him all the way outside. He could still hear them when he reached the Grove’s courtyard. It was empty save for a few guards who stood at attention when he entered the space, interrupting them from their own cheerful conversations. 

Now that the fighting was done, Kotallo could see the jagged metal teeth surrounding the arch next to the first vision, painted with Sky colors. Beyond the arch, he found that the murals that had been there since he was a child had also been painted over. He had told himself that he would rectify this immediately once they took the Grove back, but what would be the point when Tekotteh was still chief?

Kotallo walked through the arch and into the hallway, nodding to the guards when something in the first great room caught his eye. 

The Sky Vision was just as he remembered it, still vibrant with its crackling message of outlasting any climb. But the pedestal where the Desert Vision was supposed to be was dark and silent. 

Anyone who stayed at the Grove for extended periods like the Marshals and the Chief’s guards knew how to turn the Visions on. Kotallo approached the pedestal and pressed the button. The Desert Vision glowed bright, its sound garbled for a few seconds before it too started its message of ripping enemy lines. 

There had always been fledgeling trainees with eager eyes and curious hands that turned Visions off by mistake. But when Kotallo returned to the hallway and walked further down, he realized that perhaps it was not by mistake or accident that he had found the Desert Vision as it was. Even from afar, he could see that the Lowland vision had been made silent as well. 

All soldiers would have visited the Memorial Grove at least twice in their life: the first time at a young age, but old enough to understand the Visions’ words. The second time was when they became full-fledged soldiers. The Memorial Grove and its Visions was sacred to all—at least, that’s what he thought.

It had not been enough to paint everyone in Sky colors, it had not been enough to destroy the throne, Tekotteh had to tamper with the sacred Visions as well. Kotallo scoffed as he turned the Lowland vision back on. The man thought himself a conqueror, not a chief. It seemed that his goal had always been to subdue the two other clans, not rule the tribe as one.

A heavy sigh had Kotallo turning his head, looking further in the room. Tenallo stood by Untalla’s hut. He was missing his helmet and had his palm placed on his chest. 

“I knew the Visions could be turned off, but nobody knew how to turn it back on,” he said as he walked closer, staring at the Lowland vision with a look of relief. “I hoped you’d be able to. Glad I was right.”

Kotallo stared up at the Lowland vision, too, at its image that flickered just like the rest. The two men listened to the message of the Ten protecting the jungle. Like the others, it was short and they watched silently as it looped three times. 

On the fourth, Tenallo gulped audibly and laid a heavy hand on Kotallo’s shoulder. “You’re not here to tell me she’s gone, are you?”

He shook his head. “She lives, still.”

“Thank the Ten,” Tenallo said, removing his hand on Kotallo’s shoulder to place it reverently atop the pedestal. “Guess you’re here to find out what I learned.”

“Yes. Did the prisoners give you any information?”

“I questioned half of them.” Tenallo finally turned around to face him, a thunderous look on his face. “None of them knew anything. They didn’t even know Tekotteh left during the attack! What kind of chief—,” he raised a shaking hand, curling his fingers into a fist as he gnashed his teeth. “You should have killed him back then.”

Kotallo blinked, still reeling, his mind slow to grasp what he had just heard. “I tried. I lost my arm in the attempt,” he rasped.

“Bastard,” Tenallo spat.

Tekotteh fled the Grove and left his soldiers here to die for him without even telling them. What lies did he tell them to get them to stay and fight? 

No, that couldn’t be right. Tekotteh wouldn’t have been able to set up a trap if none of them knew he would be gone. “What of the soldier from the throne room? Is he still alive?”

“Yeah, he’s back there with the others.”

“Have you questioned him?” Kotallo asked. Tenallo shook his head. “Take me to him.”

The pit master led him past Untalla’s hut straight into the large space surrounded by moss-covered walls. It was a dead end that had never found permanent use though in the past it had been a temporary storage for body bags.

Now it was where they housed the prisoners. They were sitting on the floor surrounded by rebel guards, their spears at the ready in case anyone planned to escape. All of the prisoners’ hands were tied behind them, but it seemed unnecessary to bind them or to guard them too closely. Bodies bent, heads bowed, and the light casting harsh shadows on their faces—they looked as if they had lost all will to fight.

They walked to the farthest corner where Kotallo finally saw the soldier that had survived in the throne room. His back was hunched like the rest, but more than half of his body was facing the wall. He hadn't noticed it earlier during the fight and through his hazy mind, but now that it had passed, he could see that the soldier was wearing Lowland armor that had been painted over with Sky colors.

Tenallo approached him and smacked the soldier’s head. The soldier winced at the impact, shooting the pit master a resentful look, but stayed silent. “Your turn, Etakk. The Marshal wants to speak to you.” He looked at Kotallo and jerked his head towards the soldier. “This traitor was born and raised in Thornmarsh.”

Etakk winced again, this time at the word ‘traitor’. He did not lash out nor did he defend himself, he just averted his eyes and looked down at his folded legs. 

If they ever won this war, anyone who had followed Tekotteh would be scorned. It would be a long time before that changed. Kotallo wondered how he could—

He almost snorted at his line of thought and banished it immediately. They did not even know if this war could still be won, and here he was already thinking about rehabilitation. 

“Who ordered you to set that trap in the throne room?” Kotallo asked.

Etakk chewed on his bottom lip, keeping his eyes lowered. “The chief did, the day before he left for the Bulwark.”

So he was right, the coward was hiding. 

Kotallo frowned. “The day before he left,” he repeated, shooting Tenallo a glance as the pit master rolled his shoulders, turning the words over in his mind. “Do you mean yesterday?”

“No,” Etakk said with a shake of his head. “Not yesterday. He left three—four days ago?”

“He wasn’t even here for the attack?” Tenallo said, the quickening of his breath making his chest rise and fall rapidly.

Etakk shook his head again. “No, he was—”

Tenallo grabbed a fistful of Etakk’s dark hair before Kotallo could stop him, pulling the man’s head back so hard that he cried out. “You dishonorable scab,” he snarled in Etakk’s ear. “You had all that time to change your mind and you didn’t! The commander is—”

“Let him go,” Kotallo said, pulling Tenallo by the shoulder, the spikes on the man’s pauldron digging painfully into his hand through the linen wrap.

Etakk whimpered but Tenallo didn’t budge. Kotallo bit back a growl. “Do not force me to reprimand you in front of an audience,” he said, lowering his voice to make sure only Tenallo heard him. 

Tenallo tightened his hold on Etakk’s hair, then let him go, shoving the man away. Breathing heavily, he turned from them, placing his hands on his hips.

“My sister,” Etakk sobbed, his tears leaving tracks on his painted face. “She was ill from the Blood Choke. I-I brought her here to be healed and the chief allowed it!”

“He said I owed him my loyalty,” he continued, leaning so far forward that his forehead was almost pressed to the ground. His body shook from the strength of the sobs leaving his mouth. “I had to. My sister.”

Allowed it? But everyone was free to come to the Grove, whether it was for healing or for anything else.

Horrified by what he had just learned, Kotallo faced away from Etakk as well and caught glimpses of the way the other prisoners stared at the weeping man behind him. There was no judgment in their stares, only pity. Perhaps he even saw regret on some of their’ faces, but Kotallo couldn’t be certain if he was just being hopeful that Tekotteh had even less of a hold on their people than he initially thought, or hopeful that these traitors truly regretted their actions.

He reminded himself that he wasn’t in the position to absolve them of their crimes, nor did he have the power to do so. No, that would be up to the commander if she wakes up. 

When. When she wakes up. 

“You think that excuses you from—”

“Enough,” Kotallo said, raising his palm towards Tenallo, stopping him from stepping closer to Etakk. Tenallo turned his angry expression towards him and he sighed, feeling more exhausted now than when he first woke up in the throne room. “That’s enough.”

He walked away from Tenallo and out back from where they came, sparing the man from asking to be dismissed like he seemed to want to. With most of the rebels still celebrating at the Maw, there was nothing else that he could do but wait. 

His sandals felt heavy as he walked down the hallway, empty except for him and the guards guarding the great rooms. But when he passed the throne room, he began to hear the sound of running footsteps thudding across the stone. 

Aloy appeared, her hair billowing behind her as she entered from the courtyard. She skidded to a stop as soon as she met his eyes from across the hallway.  

Kotallo’s shoulders sagged in relief as he walked towards her, offering thanks to the Ten when he read the assurance in her gaze. 

“Is she awake?” he asked, holding out his hand to Aloy.

She took it immediately, but shook her head. “But the healers say the danger has passed.”

“And Dekka?”

Aloy squeezed his hand. “She took the brunt of the blast,” she said with a weak shrug. “They’re doing the best they can.”

Kotallo nodded, squeezing her hand back. He had been spared from waiting, from spilling platitudes of hope to others when he felt none. But now there was hope for the commander, for the rebellion. And there was still hope for the chaplain. 

He turned towards the nearest guard. “Get me the Desert commander, Arokkeh, and Tenallo,” he ordered, already pulling Aloy past a crumbling wall at the end of the hallway until they reached the barracks the marshals used. 

By the linen underclothes Kotallo didn’t recognize hanging on the racks, he gathered that the room had been used and lived in since he was away. Aloy crouched in front of one of the open chests that had other linen garments spilling out of it, tilting her head at it. “Doesn’t look like anybody’s been in here for days.”

Kotallo grunted. Whoever had been staying here must have fled with Tekotteh to the Bulwark. Men and women seeking to elevate their status by clinging to a depraved man. 

But perhaps they were not self-serving cowards, but simply…afraid, much like Etakk was. The Carja were knocking on their door, and inside their homes their people were either dying of thirst or dying of sickness.

After Tekotteh, there were still other enemies to face. The Carja were next, perhaps, then their invisible enemies. At least the Desert clan had their Wound back, but the Blood Choke was going to prove more difficult to defeat.

Their tribe was suffering, and all Tekotteh could think about was himself. Kotallo didn’t understand how the man could still surprise him when he himself had been a victim of his selfishness and greed.

But no more. As soon as the commander was ready, they were going to take the fight to him. 

Tenallo was the first to arrive as he had been the closest. “Of course she’s gonna be okay,” he said when Kotallo broke the news, with a deceptively casual shrug. “I never doubted it.”

Arokkeh’s relief was much more evident. “Thank the Ten,” he muttered, canting his head toward the ceiling. 

Drakka arrived last, his face as stern as when they last spoke. He nodded when he heard the news and crossed his arms. “Good,” he said, lifting an expectant eyebrow at Kotallo. “Are we just going to wait here for her to fully heal?”

“What is our next step, Marshal?” Arokkeh asked, oblivious to the tension between Kotallo and Drakka. 

“Now that we know Commander Atekka will survive, we should put all of our efforts into preparing,” Kotallo said, then shook his head. “But we cannot leave Scalding Spear and Fall’s Edge undefended. We cannot give Tekotteh the opportunity to take the settlements back.”

He placed his hand on Arokkeh’s shoulder. “Send some of your squads back to Fall’s Edge. You should do the same, Commander,” he added, looking at Drakka. “But you must stay here.”

“To present a united front to our enemies?” Drakka said. 

Kotallo nodded. “And to our troops, as well. We cannot let them think that we have lost or that we have given up our cause.”

When Drakka’s expression did not change, Kotallo stepped closer to him. “This is a setback, yes, but one we can overcome,” he said firmly. “We just need to wait for Commander Atekka to recover.”

“But Tekotteh’s in the Bulwark,” Tenallo said, waving his hand high in the air. “And you said there was no way to get inside.”

“There has to be a way. We cannot give up now,” Kotallo insisted through his teeth, regretting that he had said those words back at Fall’s Edge with what they knew now. “Not when we are so close.”

But they looked unconvinced. Drakka even more so with eyebrows lifted, as if to challenge his statement. Even Arokkeh with all his earnestness remained silent.

Kotallo clenched his fist, fighting against the hopelessness that emanated from them. “Tekotteh didn’t just betray Hekarro that day, he betrayed us all. And betrayal demands justice.”

“Tekotteh must answer for his actions,” he continued, then pointed to the entrance of the barracks. “But more than that, look at where he is leading our tribe. He would undo Hekarro’s work, he would have our people resort to cowardly tactics—” he looked pointedly in Tenallo’s direction, being the only one apart from him who had heard Etakk’s testimony, “—and to fight without honor.”

Kotallo let his hand drop to his side. “I do not know yet how we can get into the Bulwark, or how to draw him out,” he said. Growing up within its walls, it really did seem impossible to get to Tekotteh. “But I will not surrender, I will not give up until justice is served. I will not give up fighting for our people.”

“And I will not give up fighting for the peace the Tenakth deserve—,” he raised his hand in front of him and curled it into a fist, “—even if I have to tear those walls down myself.”

Drakka grinned so suddenly that Kotallo recoiled. “Well,” he said, uncrossing his arms and placing his hands on his hips, his grin turning into a teasing smirk. “You’re gonna need another set of hands to help you.”

Tenallo snorted. Arokkeh shook his head and muttered, “Commander, that is…”

Kotallo sighed, his shoulders relaxing, grateful that he wouldn’t have to do this alone. Drakka clapped a hand on his arm below his pauldron.

“My blade is yours, brother.”

It was in the middle of the night of the sixth day when Kotallo was awoken with news that Atekka had finally opened her eyes. 

The situation eased after that first night, but the more days that passed that Atekka remained unconscious, the more that hopelessness began to creep its way back in. Still they prepared for the day she would wake.

Hope was renewed when Dekka was deemed officially in recovery, her burns were healing nicely the healers had said and would soon be on the mend. 

Morning, noon, and night Kotallo worked. If he was not hunting, he was training. If he was not training, he was planning with the others. If he wasn’t doing that, he was questioning Sky-born prisoners on possible entrances to the Bulwark—despite the niggling voice at the back of his mind that it was impossible to get past its impregnable walls. When he discovered that Tekotteh’s lieutenants, the ones that had been left behind, were still alive he had questioned them too.

It reminded him of the time he spent at the Shattered Kiln. The mission then had been no less urgent and high-risk, but it had been a simpler time in Kotallo’s mind. He had not been as invested in the lives of the people that seemed to look up to him. That had come much later.

It was similar but still vastly different from the situation he was in now, where Tenakth lives and Hekarro’s vision were at stake.

In the evenings when he could no longer move or think, he would retreat to the Marshal’s quarters with Aloy, relishing in the warmth and comfort of her presence and love. As he held her, his mind slowly drifting as it did before he fell asleep, the thought that he could never have managed this far without her always came to him.

“Marshal.”

His eyes opened immediately and he jolted at seeing a Sky-painted face above him, relaxing only when he realized that it was just Konakk. Aloy gasped beside himl, already reaching for her spear by the pallet before being stopped by Kotallo’s arm, still wrapped around her. 

“What is it?” Kotallo asked, sitting up. He swallowed, fearing for the worst. “Is the commander—”

“She’s awake, sir,” Konakk said. It was only then that Kotallo realized that he was panting. “I ran here as soon as I heard.”

Kotallo and Aloy stood from the pallet. “Fetch Drakka,” he said to Konakk as he slipped his pauldron on. “Inform him as well, and tell him to meet me at the healer’s.”

“She’s not there anymore, sir,” Konakk said, blocking his path. “The healers tried to stop her, but she walked out of the Maw before I found out. I don’t know where—”

“She might be in the throne room,” Kotallo interjected. “Come.”

The three of them rushed out of the barracks, their feet thudding noisily against the stone beneath them. When they finally reached the throne room, they stopped at the arch, spotting Atekka’s form immediately. 

Kotallo placed a hand on his stomach and sighed, before nodding to Konakk. “Fetch Drakka,” he repeated. 

“I’ll wait out here,” Aloy muttered next to him as Konakk ran , though he could see that she was eager to go inside, presumably to scan the ancient device underneath the throne again for what could have been the hundredth time. “Give you guys some privacy.”

He nodded his thanks and stepped inside.

They had cleared the throne room of most of the rubble at his insistence. No matter what anyone said, the Memorial Grove was the seat of power for the Tenakth. So they removed the debris, swept away the dust, and replaced the Wings of the Ten that had fallen behind the throne.

But even after everything was done, no one entered the throne room except to light the torches at night. It seemed wrong to use the space when the throne was empty. Even when he was meeting with Drakka and the others to plan their next steps, they used the Marshal’s quarters or some other corner of the Grove. 

Now Atekka was here, standing on her own just below the steps, staring into nothingness.

No, not nothingness. Kotallo followed her line of sight as he walked past the raised platform, and realized that that was what she was looking at.

The warm light from the torches painted her skin a healthy-looking color, but shadows formed beneath her sunken cheeks behind the thin layer of paint she put on. But though she still looked weak, she was at least standing straight. 

“Commander?” Kotallo said, stopping an arm’s length away from her. “I am glad that you are awake, but the more that you rest the faster you will recover from your wounds.”

And there were plenty, mostly on her bare arms, raw and pink. 

Atekka didn’t seem to have heard him and he wondered if the blast had somehow affected her hearing as well. “Commander?” he tried again.

“This was where I found him,” she said, still staring at the space above the platform. 

Kotallo frowned. “Who?”

“Hekarro,” she said, finally looking at him with tired eyes. “When the blue light struck the Grove, the Visions grew louder and brighter. The others dropped their weapons, dazzled by the lights. I worried for Hekarro, but he was alive when I found him.” 

Atekka waved her hand over her feet. “He was standing in this very spot, looking over there,” she said, looking back again at the platform. “That was when he told me about the Vision—the one only he witnessed.”

He had heard the story many times, of course, but never an accurate retelling. There were only a few people left in the world that could say they were present when Hekarro became chief. 

Kotallo waited for her to continue, curious to what she had to say but more impatient than anything. What the people needed now was for Atekka to rest so that she could rise strong. But when a minute passed and she still didn’t speak, Kotallo stepped forward, intending to herd her back to the healers’. 

“We have sent some squads back to Scalding Spear and Fall’s Edge,” he said to fill the silence, not knowing how to get the commander to go with him. “But it will be easy enough to recall them once we are ready as Drakka and Arokkeh have remained here. We’ve been preparing for the battle ahead. All that’s left is—”

“To defeat Tekotteh,” Atekka said, looking down at her arms. “Something that I cannot do in my present condition, even if I wanted to.”

Kotallo narrowed his eyes. “You will heal, Commander,” he said, hoping that it was the right thing to say. He seemed to always be grasping at words when talking to Atekka, ever since they saw what happened at Thornmarsh. “This is not the end.”

Still looking down, Atekka tilted her head, then looked at him. “Was Hekarro a good chief?”

“Yes,” he said instantly.

Atekka arched her brow at him. “Why? What was it that made him a good chief?”

“Hekarro was a good chief because he believed in unity,” Kotallo said, conviction hardening his tone. “He saw the tribe as one even before it was and fought for his vision despite our people’s doubts.”

She pursed her lips, looking unimpressed at his answer. Before Kotallo could say another word, she walked forward with a slight limp. Her pace was unhurried, but her destination obvious. He followed her silently, lagging close behind her in case she needed the assistance. 

Atekka stopped right in front of Hekarro’s spear and trailed her fingers along the shaft. “That day in Thornmarsh, when I saw—,” she began, her voice trembling with emotion, “I wanted to give up on the fight against Tekotteh. Put all of my efforts into saving my clan, instead.”

“And we will, Commander,” Kotallo said, unable to keep the rising panic from his voice. “We have not forgotten about Thornmarsh. But until—”

“I have thought of little else,” she interjected. “I have not spared a thought to the Desert clan’s plight, or to the people of the Sky clan trapped in the Bulwark with that coward.”

Kotallo opened his mouth, but Atekka interrupted him again. “I don’t suppose Hekarro told you about our conversation that day.”

He took a deep breath, helpless to the way she kept changing tack. “No, he did not.”

Atekka hummed thoughtfully. “I told him that we had won. That the Memorial Grove was now the Lowland clan’s and he said no. No, the Grove does not belong to the Lowland clan, and neither did he. Then he said that if he was to unite the tribe, he could not belong to any one clan alone.”

“That’s what made Hekarro a good chief,” Atekka continued, punctuating her statement with a piercing look she sent Kotallo’s way. “Though it seemed like an insurmountable task, I believed in his vision.” She closed her eyes and bowed her head, as if she was praying. “I still do.”

Her eyes were hard when they opened them again. “But I cannot be like him. I belong to the Lowland clan.” Removing her hand from Hekarro’s spear, she turned her body towards Kotallo, facing him straight on for the first time that night. “I cannot be chief.”

Kotallo’s mouth fell open. The bitter taste of failure was something he was intimately familiar with, as well as the tendency to wallow in self-pity. He had done that in the east after Hekarro’s death—the greatest failure of Kotallo’s life. 

But this hadn’t been Atekka’s greatest failure, not to her at least. No, her greatest failure was letting the Blood Choke fester and poison her people. 

He sighed. He had seen this coming, back at Fall’s Edge when they had returned from Thornmarsh, had seen the hollow look in her eyes. Kotallo knew then that it was pointless to try to convince her to change her mind. 

“Then,” he began, shrugging his shoulders. “Perhaps Drakka will assume the mantle.”

Drakka announced his presence with a loud scoff as he walked through the arch, his eyebrows raised. “Drakka will remain Desert commander,” he said, sharing a glance with Atekka. “I’m thinking of someone else that will be better for the job.”

Kotallo’s mouth fell open as both commanders turned their eyes on him. “What?” he hissed, gaping at the two of them as he took a step back. “No.”

Drakka jutted his chin over at Atekka. “She wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you,” he said in a loud voice. He raised a fist and began ticking off his fingers. “You saved our troops at Barren Light, led the fighting in Scalding Spear, took back Fall’s Edge—”

“No,” Kotallo said again, placing his hand on the top of his head. “That was—”

“—and now the Grove is ours, because of you. Haven’t you noticed? We’ve been following you all along, Kotallo,” Drakka finished, spreading his arms wide. “Question is, will you lead us to the very end?”

Kotallo dropped his hand, clenching his fist as he looked away from Drakka and locked eyes with Atekka. A gust of air left his lungs when she merely nodded.

They had gone mad!

“It cannot be me!” he shouted, pounding his fist against his chestplate. “I am m—,” Kotallo jolted at the feel of Atekka’s cool hand on his stump. He stared gormlessly at the way her pale fingers wrapped around the blue linen, her grip weak. 

“It is because of you that we are here today,” she said, her voice soft. Kotallo looked at her with wide eyes. “It is due to your strength that we have been victorious thus far. And you have not belonged to any clan since you became Hekarro’s sword.”

“You fought with courage and with honor—a true soldier of the Ten,” she continued. He couldn’t look away from her gaze. “It must be you.”

Kotallo closed his eyes. What they were asking of him was far more than what Dekka asked of him back then, when all she wanted was for him to rally the commanders. He had told her exactly what he had just said to Drakka and Atekka. All Tenakth respect strength, and what strength did a cripple possess to become chief?

Find the strength, he recalled Dekka saying, the strength to ensure Hekarro’s legacy.

Was there truly no other way?

“You honor me with your trust,” he said, smiling weakly. He lifted his stump. “But I doubt the rest of the tribe will be so accepting.”

Drakka waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t think you have to worry about that. And besides, the clans will follow their commanders’ example,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “Wasn’t that what you said?”

Kotallo huffed weakly as he glanced at the throne. “I was never interested in rising above my station,” he muttered. 

“We know. But you will not be doing it for yourself,” Atekka said, glancing at the throne as well. 

He didn’t know what to say, only continued staring at the throne. Though he could reach it with just a few steps, it seemed so far away. As far away as the Grove was from the Bulwark. As far away as they were from reaching Tekotteh. 

Atekka sighed. “I told Hekarro then that his was an impossible dream.”

Kotallo looked at her curiously. “I thought you said you believed in his vision.”

“Not at first,” she admitted, smiling for the first time in what seemed like an age. “I will tell you his words, the same ones he told me.”

“I know that you are afraid,” Atekka said, pausing to take a breath. “But true courage means facing those fears with conviction instead of cynicism.”

Drakka whistled. “Hekarro was always good with words.”

“He cannot truly take credit for that one,” she said, smiling again, jerking her head at the platform behind them. “He said he heard it from the Vision.”

Kotallo dragged in a breath as he looked at Hekarro’s spear. The platform meant nothing to him, he had never seen the vision Hekarro saw—none of them had. But he knew what his chief had believed in, what he had fought so hard for for so many years.

He didn’t know if could succeed, he doubted that he was strong enough to be chief. But if there truly was no one else—

I owe it to him to try.

Kotallo nodded at the two commanders. “For Hekarro,” he said, placing his fist on his chest. “For the Tenakth.”

Chapter Text

It was still a few hours before dawn. Everything was still dark when they arrived at the Bulwark. If it were not for the subtle orange glow of the torches that lined the wall above, flickering with the wind, it would seem that the wall stretched endlessly upwards towards the inky sky.

They went to the left side of the wall, then the right.

They found nothing. There were no hidden entrances, no other way up or through the wall.

Restless, Kotallo scooped up a bit of snow as he thought, but when he could only form a lump and not a ball with his one hand, he threw it away in frustration.

“They know we’re here,” Konakk muttered darkly as he parted the grass with his fingers. 

Aloy frowned at him as she took off her new headpiece, strands of her hair snagging on the sharp machine plates that looked like teeth. “Why isn’t Tekotteh doing anything then?”

Kotallo sighed as he stared up at the large boulders that made up the wall of the Bulwark. He had half-expected to see some part of it changed, just as Scalding Spear and Fall’s Edge had. But even in the dark, he could tell that everything remained the same. 

On the outside, anyway. The patterns of Sky paint adorning the front of the wall hadn’t changed, still the same sharp markings that decorated the ancient stone since he was a boy.

The torches in the crags littered at the front of the Bulwark had already been lit for the evening when they had arrived, so they had circled around, hiding in tall grass. But Kotallo, like all other Sky-born soldiers, had been stationed at the wall at least once during their career. He still remembered what it was like to gaze over the valley from the watchtowers on either side of the wall, his vision only slightly impeded by the sparse trees that speckled the snow below.

Konakk was right. It was impossible that they hadn’t already been spotted by the guards. 

“I grew up behind that wall,” Kotallo said softly, his mind supplying images from a past life. One full of triumphs, so different from the one he was leading now. 

He sighed. “It’s easy to have a false sense of safety there.”

Aloy glanced at him, her lips pursed. He imagined that she could already sense where his thoughts were going. 

“Wait here,” she said, jutting her chin over in the direction they just came from. “I want to get a closer look at that wall.”

“What? Why?” Kotallo said, just as Konakk hissed, “We already checked that side.”

But Aloy was already slinking away, disappearing into the next tall grass. 

Kotallo broke his gaze away from where Aloy might be to look at Konakk. The young soldier had released a heavy sigh, staring at the snow in front of them.

“What's on your mind?”

Konakk flattened his lips into a firm line. “You grew up at the Bulwark, didn't you sir?”

“Yes, I did,” Kotallo said. “You didn't.”

“No.”

“Where, then?”

“Stone Crest.”

Kotallo nodded absently as he turned to look up again at the Bulwark. But his attention fell back to Konakk when the other man chuckled. 

At Kotallo’s raised brow, Konakk shook his head. “Sorry, sir. I was just thinking about…” he trailed off, his smile fading a little. “Otta grew up at the Bulwark too.”

“I didn't know that,” Kotallo said with a tilt of his head, trying to remember Otta’s face. He and Konakk were much younger than him, and Tekotteh had kept him busy with training as soon as he saw Kotallo's skill with a blade.

“When we first met, I thought he would just be another arrogant scab from the capital,” Konakk continued with another chuckle. Then as if realizing his words, his smile dropped and he shot Kotallo a wary glance. “Not that you are an arrogant scab, sir.”

Kotallo didn’t respond. He knew well of the divide even within the Sky clan. Soldiers born and raised in the Bulwark were the best, others whispered, but only because the commander was stationed there. It meant that the best supplies were always delivered at the Bulwark. Not to mention the pit master was stationed at the capital, too, as well as the best healers.

Konakk reached up to rub the back of his neck, looking awkward as he cleared his throat to fill the silence. “Otta always said that growing up in the Bulwark was the best.” He pointed at the wall. “That standing on top of the wall felt like standing on top of the world.”

Kotallo hummed in agreement as he traced the wall with his eyes from the base all the way to as much as he could see of the top. “It did feel that way, yes.”

“The symbol of the Sky Clan’s greatness,” Konakk murmured. 

He scoffed then, recognizing the words drilled into all Sky soldiers. He believed them when he was younger, but his time as a marshal, roving the Clan Lands and visiting the other clan settlements, had changed his views on the Bulwark.

Konakk’s eyebrows rose. Kotallo pinned the younger man with his stare. “It is because of that wall that the Sky clan grows complacent,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “It is because of that wall that the comman—that Tekotteh grew blind to the needs of the other Sky settlements.”

The only reason Tekotteh had even decided to venture out from the Bulwark to fight the Carja was for glory.

He sighed, shaking his head. “On top of the world? More like kept us from it.”

“ Psst.”

He and Konakk turned at the sound, spotting Aloy’s face peeking through the grass across them. She waved them over before turning back around and disappearing.

Despite their suspicion that they had already been seen, they still crouched low to the ground, traveling from tall grass to tall grass. Soon they were back in front of the left side of the wall, near the small waterfall in between the rocks.

They were out in the open now, and Aloy was staring up at something at the wall, her finger hovering near her Focus. 

At the sound of their footsteps, she turned around and tapped it. “You said there’s no getting inside the Bulwark unless you go over the wall,” she said to Kotallo as soon as they neared.

He nodded. “Yes, the lift’s the only way inside.”

“Okay.” Without taking her eyes off him, she raised her hand and gestured towards the Bulwark. “What if we took it down?”

Kotallo's eyebrows leapt. Konakk blinked at Aloy, before turning his head to look at him. But he couldn't stop staring at Aloy as if she'd grown another head, looking expectantly back at him with twinkling eyes.

Konakk broke the silence first. “Take—take the wall down? You have got to be—”

“Did you hit your head on the way here?” Kotallo asked jokingly. Then he frowned. Now that he thought about it... “You do not seem to be injured.”

Aloy scowled. “I'm serious!” She turned away from them, pointing a finger at something above them next to the waterfall. But it was still too dark to see anything. “There’s something from the Old World stuck in there. And it has a power cell.”

She lowered her hand, turning back to Kotallo with eyebrows raised, her expression morphing into one he was very familiar with now.

Aloy was about to suggest something utterly ridiculous.

“I could blow it up,” she said, speaking slowly. “If I just penetrate the first layer of rock and metal—”

Konakk sliced the air with his hand. “Do you hear yourself?”

Kotallo interrupted Aloy before she could respond. “Even if what you were saying was true…” he trailed off, thinking of the times he had watched in awe as the Oseram at Pitchcliff handled explosives. The Oseram had discovered a way to detonate them from afar, but they had no time to figure out how to do it themselves.

He shook his head, saying the words before he could think better of them. “It would take a cannon to do that.”

Aloy’s eyes immediately widened and so did her lips, revealing white teeth as they stretched in a slow grin. Kotallo glared at her. Now was not the time for such nonsense!

Unaware of the silent argument between the two, Konakk scratched his head. “I believe there's a ravager near Sky’s Sentry.”

Kotallo pursed his lips, not taking his eyes off of Aloy’s. “Too short ranged,” he found himself saying.

Aloy’s grin grew even wider as she nodded. “We need something bigger.”

“Like—,” Konakk paused, thinking, “—like a tremortusk cannon?”

Aloy finally broke eye contact, her voice excited as she turned to Konakk and asked, “What's a tremortusk?”

Kotallo sighed. There was no swaying her from this. “Is there still one south of Sheerside Climb?”

“Yes, and northeast of Stone Crest.”

He hummed thoughtfully. Stone Crest was definitely closer. 

As soon as he thought it, he shook his head. He certainly hadn’t expected this when they set out from the Grove half a day before. He had thought that perhaps they would find a secret entrance, or come across a squad willing to work with them. But this…

This was madness!

“Sir?”

With another sigh, Kotallo turned and laid his hand on Konakk’s shoulder. “Go back to the Grove and have the commanders assemble their troops.”

“You can't take on a tremortusk with just the two of you,” Konakk hissed, then flinched, and lowered his eyes. “Uh, sir, it's never been done before.”

“It'll be like when we took out that behemoth,” Aloy said, still grinning.

Kotallo snorted. “The site we're going to has two tremortusks.”

But Aloy merely shrugged. “Then it'll be like the time we took the thunderjaw heart,” she said, her grin turning into a soft smile he couldn’t help but return. 

The sun peeked out from over the mountains, making the icy river sparkle as Kotallo and Aloy jumped over the small broken footbridge. 

What levity there was when they were discussing the plan in front of the Bulwark seemed to have dissipated. The farther away they traveled, the heavier the air between them became. 

Even when they were huddled close as they were now, hiding in tall grass from the lone clawstrider patrolling the middle of the path, it seemed as if there was a space between them that Kotallo couldn't cross. 

“C’mon,” Aloy whispered briskly as the clawstrider finally moved away. 

Kotallo followed in her footsteps, watching her long mane sway behind her. His own mind was full of thoughts, whispers of failure amplifying his fears of disappointing his people. But this fear was accompanied by another worry.

He would be foolish to feel confident, not after what happened at the Grove. But what if he did succeed?

They walked silently side-by-side, passing through snow-covered trees and rocks, until another footbridge came into view. Machines littered the other side, their blue lights still bright amidst the fading shadows.

Kotallo stowed his spear behind him and reached out to grip Aloy’s wrist before she could take another step. “Aloy, a moment,” he said, forcing her to stop to look at him, realizing that she had hardly done so since they left the Bulwark. 

Her face was golden under the rising sun. 

“Something wrong?” she asked.

He tilted his head, looking at her knowingly. “I should be asking you that.” Letting go of her wrist, he let his fingers trail up her arm, past the strap of her satchel, until he was touching her face. Her cheek was cool to the touch. “Won't you tell me what's on your mind?”

Aloy let out a heavy sigh, looking to the ground. “I'm sure you’ve got a lot on yours,” she murmured as she leaned into his hand. “Don't worry about me.”

Kotallo tipped her chin so that she was looking at him, their noses inches apart, then cupped her cheek again. “It seems that you are worried about me.” 

He stroked her bottom lip with his thumb, as if to coax out the words she kept locked behind her lips. “Aloy, tell me.”

Her jaw tightened beneath his fingers. He frowned but quickly replaced it with a smile. “Do you not believe I can do this?” he asked playfully, hoping to put her at ease. 

She bristled. “Of course you can do this,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve seen you fight. I’ve seen you lead. You’re a good man. You’ll be a great chief.”

Kotallo’s smile widened, his chest suffused with warmth, immensely touched by her words. But Aloy didn’t return his smile and only continued to stare hard at him. “If you believe that to be true, why do you still look worried?”

Her next words were delivered in a shaky voice. “Because bad things happen to good people all the time.”

He remembered how she looked when she told him about Rost for the first time, all those months ago by the river. Arms wrapped around her legs, cheek pressed on her knees, her eyes glazed over, lost in memory. 

If Kotallo fell today, it would be the second time Aloy would watch a man she loved die.

He leaned in to place a kiss on her forehead, but stopped when she cupped his cheek. “I'm going to be there. With you,” she said, her voice hard, as if she was making him a promise. 

“I know.”

“Nothing's going to happen to you,” Aloy insisted. 

“I—,” Kotallo stiffened. The meaning of her words struck him like a kick to the gut. “You cannot interfere, Aloy,” he said, shaking his head, the warning in his tone hardening his voice as well. “This has to happen the right way.”

“The right way could get you killed!”

“I will not be like him,” he said, removing his hand from her face to clench at his side. “If I die in combat, then so be it. At least my honor would be intact.”

Aloy looked away from him with a mirthless laugh. She curled her lip, her shoulders shaking as she folded her arms.

Kotallo should have been angry at her lack of faith in him. He wanted to be angry. But all he felt in that moment was the urge to hold her. 

Giving in to the urge, Kotallo reached out and wrapped his arm around Aloy’s bare waist, the fur-trim edges of her armor tickling his arm. She didn't look at him but let him pull her closer. 

“Listen to me,” he whispered against the side of her head, thankful that she had decided to discard her headpiece. “I will not fail.”

She uncrossed her arms and gripped his arm just below his pauldron with one hand while cradling the back of his neck with the other. “Can you promise me that?” she whispered back.

Kotallo shouldn't. Since losing his arm, he had faced and defeated others but there was still no guarantee that he could win against Tekotteh. 

The man had become commander of the Sky clan for a reason, and had even defended his position a few times before Kotallo was born.

He really shouldn't, but he still found himself saying, “I promise.”

Aloy leaned back, searching his face. He met her gaze unflinchingly. “I promise that I will not go down without a fight,” he said with a sigh. It would have to be enough. 

But she shook her head, pushing away from him. Kotallo’s arm didn't let her get very far. 

“There is too much at stake,” he said, tightening his hold on her. “The tribe needs me. But also—”

I want to be with you.

Kotallo pressed his tongue against his teeth, unwilling to say what he wanted to her now. It was not the time. His pledge would have to wait.

If he was going to be a good chief to the Tenakth, Atekka had said, he couldn’t belong to any one clan. 

Kotallo didn’t belong to a clan. He hadn’t belonged to a clan since becoming a marshal. But he belonged to Aloy. And if being chief meant that he could offer a home to her and bring peace to his people, then he would do everything that he could to succeed.

“I will not fail,” he said again. She lowered her eyes again, refusing to look at him even when he pressed their foreheads together. “Have faith in me. I won't leave you alone, Aloy.”

She looked at him then, her eyes shining. “I'll hold you to that.”

He couldn't help but chuckle at the threat in her tone. “I am a man of my word.”

“I know.” Aloy kissed him, a quick peck on the lips. Stroking the back of his head, she pressed their foreheads together again. “I know.”

They stayed there for a moment, just breathing each other in. Aloy pulled away first and Kotallo let his arm fall limp by his side before reaching for his spear. 

There were a number of shell-walkers and clawstriders patrolling the other side of the bridge, so they went under, dashing from one hiding spot to another. The machines’ lights remained blue, and he and Aloy snuck by without issue.

As they continued upwards, they reached a narrow passageway flanked by two tall crags. A scan of Aloy’s Focus told them that there were burrowers lurking above. There was no hiding from them and no other way but through the pass. They squared their shoulders and prepared for a fight, but the burrowers were no match for them.

Onwards they marched, their feet sinking into the soft snow as more fell from the sky. They were so high up the mountain now that the machines looked almost like tiny dots, scattered across the valley. 

When they neared a tall and steep rock face, Kotallo knew they were close. He could already see a little bit of the roof of the watchtower the Sky clan had abandoned when the tremortusks had appeared years ago, peeking out from above the cliff. 

“Not much further now,” Kotallo said.

Aloy frowned and tapped her Focus, scanning the surface. “No handholds.”

Kotallo shook his head and pointed his spear East. “We have to go a little further in order to get up there,” he explained, already walking in that direction.

It took them a few minutes to find handholds to get to the top of the cliff. The snow was much thicker here, reaching Aloy’s knees, and they trudged slowly through until they were walking through trees again. Soon, they reached the end of the cliff and the watchtower appeared.

And so did the tremortusks.  

Like the two thunderjaws back east, the tremortusks below were contained in a bowl-shaped valley, this time covered in snow and ice. Kotallo watched as they patrolled the area in separate circles, around large rocks that were nearly their size, almost never meeting in the middle. 

“I’ve never seen machines like these,” Aloy said softly, her voice full of awe.

“Are thunderjaws the largest ones in the east?”

She snorted as she tapped her Focus. “Sure, but I meant the armor. Do all tremortusks look like that?”

“No,” he said, tracing the black armor with his gaze and recalling the times he’d seen the lone tremortusk south of Sheerside Climb. The other tremortusk that he knew of patrolled the Stillsands, and that one too did not look like these. “These two are the only ones that have the black and gold plating.”

“They’ve got more weapons than thunderjaws.”

Kotallo huffed in amusement. Aloy sounded excited instead of apprehensive. He turned to look at her and found her already looking at him with her eyebrows raised and a close-lipped smile. “Nothing ever scares you,” he said fondly.

Her smile fell. She reached up and trailed her fingers along the scar above his stump. “Plenty of things scare me,” she whispered.

He faced her and reached up to grasp her hand. “We will see this through,” he said firmly, giving her hand a light squeeze. “Together.”

They stood on that cliff, their hands still touching, as they planned their approach. They noted the tall grass scattered in the area and the large rocks they could use to take cover. Eventually he had to let go of her hand, as he only had the one to use to point at the machines to explain the tremortusks’ attacks and weak points.

“Is it?” Kotallo asked, turning to Aloy in surprise. “We could use that.”

“The other tremortusks aren’t weak to shock?”

He shook his head. “Only if you expose and hit the sparkers on the side.”

“Okay, that’s good for us then,” Aloy said. She put her satchel on the snow-covered ground and began filling her quiver with shock and tearblast arrows. 

“Remember, do not use its cannon,” he said, following her example and taking out his javelins from his own satchel. “Plasma isn’t effective against it.”

“I won’t,” she assured him, taking out shock arrows next. “I might need all the ammo for the Bulwark, anyway.”

Kotallo paused, biting back a sigh. He still was not sure that Aloy’s plan would work, but it wouldn’t do him any good to think about it now. 

First they had to get that cannon. 

“Be careful,” he said, kissing the top of her head before crouching right at the edge of the cliff to jump down. 

“Hey.”

Kotallo turned and smiled at the teasing look Aloy gave him. “What is it?”

She grinned. “Try not to jump on top of it, alright? We don’t want a repeat of last time.”

He chuckled at the memory. “Thank you for the reminder.”

The snow cushioned his fall and he quickly darted to the nearest tall grass just as the first tremortusk turned and started walking in his direction. He knew the machine wouldn't spot him as long as he stayed in this position, but that knowledge didn't slow his heart.

The second tremortusk had its back turned, but then started moving as well, moving towards the end of the valley. 

Like all machines of this size, the tremortusks were slow and it took a bit of waiting for both of them to be at opposite ends of the valley. 

Kotallo gripped the javelin in his hand tightly, waiting for Aloy’s first arrow to land. 

A loud whirring groan echoed against the mountains that surrounded them and the first tremortusk’s lights turned red. 

Its antenna exploded and fell not far from its enormous feet.

Kotallo jumped up from the grass and sprinted towards the machine, sparing the second tremortusk a glance.

Its lights were still blue!

The first tremortusk began to turn, looking for the source of the attack. “Over here!” Kotallo shouted, throwing the javelin in his hand and quickly reaching behind him for another one.

The javelin hit the tremortusk right above its eye. But instead of sticking, the javelin merely bounced against it, the tip breaking off from the wood as it flew off the machine’s black plating. Unbothered, the tremortusk continued turning.

Kotallo clicked his tongue and ran closer then threw the next javelin. 

This time, sparks flew from where it struck the tremortusk’s flank. The machine stopped for a moment, before turning in Kotallo’s direction. 

His heart seized as the tremortusk's salvo cannon glowed bright, giving him just enough warning before he had to jump out of the way. Snow flew up from the ground behind him each time he dodged, and by the fourth he heard another groan from a second tearblast arrow. 

But when he straightened, the cannon was still attached.

The tremortusk was still looking his way. Slowly it leaned back, until it was standing on its hind legs. 

Here we go, Kotallo thought as he widened his stance. The tremortusk was behaving exactly as he had predicted. If they just followed the plan, they would be alright.

The ground shook even harder as the tremortusk slammed its feet back onto the ground. Blue light flashed, and crackling energy shot out from its feet in a ring. Kotallo was expecting it and jumped forward before it could hit him.

Another tearblast arrow, but the cannon stubbornly stayed put. 

“I need more time!” he heard Aloy yell, somewhere to his left. 

Between the first tremortusk and the way his body was vibrating with adrenaline, it felt like the whole world was shaking. It was difficult to tell if the second tremortusk was already circling around without glancing at it.

Its long trunk peeked out behind the rock. They might've gotten rid of the first tremortusk's antenna to keep it from calling reinforcements, but that wouldn't stop the second tremortusk from seeing what was happening.

“There's no time!” Kotallo yelled back, training his eyes on the tremortusk in front of him just as it fired its shock cannon. He snarled in frustration as the round homing projectiles slowly approached before he sprinted as fast as he could towards the machine. 

The tremortusk fell on its knees. Aloy had been hitting it with shock arrows, but the shock cannon had already been fired. The projectiles were still following him!

“Hit the blaze sac!”

“What?!”

Kotallo didn't know if killing the tremortusk while the cannon was still attached to its body would damage it to the point they couldn't use it. But at least if they killed this one, they'd only have one other tremortusk to worry about. 

“HIT THE BLAZE SAC!” he yelled again, just before sliding onto the ice, his skin prickling at the cold. The projectiles buzzed close behind him, then vanished with a hiss, disappearing harmlessly into the air.

Kotallo heard the thunk of two arrows, and then a loud fiery explosion that lit up the space with an orange glow. He jumped, then rolled to his feet, and turned around. The tremortusk roared one last time before falling, its whole body being eaten by fire.

Aloy crouched and started throwing snow onto the machine, putting out the flames. When they were mostly gone, she ran to it and started pulling on the cannon. 

She grunted when she finally wrenched it free, quickly tapping her Focus to give it a scan. “It’s still functional,” she said as Kotallo jogged up to her, shooting him a wry smile. “I'm not looking forward to hauling this all the way to the Bulwark.”

The ground started shaking again and they both looked to the side. The other tremortusk had moved past the rock and was starting to circle back around. 

There was no time to think of another way to transport the cannon. They should've thought of this before sending Konakk away, but they didn't have time for anything else then either. 

“Here,” Kotallo said, quickly falling to one knee and shrugging. “I may be maimed, but I've still got a strong back.”

Aloy growled low, but her words died in her throat when a mechanical roar rang out into the valley. Kotallo looped his arm under the cannon and lifted it onto his shoulder with a grunt. He jutted his chin. “Go. I will follow you.” 

They heard snow explode behind them four times, but they didn't look back. They just kept running.

When they were far enough away, back down near the sheer rock face they had stopped at before, Aloy stopped and laughed. 

“What?” Kotallo said, panting with effort as he adjusted his hold on the cannon.

“I've forgotten how fun it was to hunt machines with you,” she said, reaching up to help him. She sighed and stepped back. “Bet you’ll be too busy to go on hunts again, though, once you’re chief.”

Kotallo licked his lips, unable to look her in the eye in that moment. “I'll have time for at least one more,” he said vaguely as he started walking again. “When this is over and everything is settled, I will take us on another hunt.”

Aloy smiled, oblivious to the way his heart stuttered. “Looking forward to it.”

The clearing in front of the Bulwark had been empty when they had left it at dawn. Now the late afternoon sun shone on the hundreds of Tenakth rebels, all out in the open. They stood in front of the great wall, armed and ready for their orders. 

At their approach, their painted faces turned to them. Their eyes were trained on Kotallo, specifically on the cannon on his shoulder. Pain shot up his back, more pronounced than before, at the added weight of their stares. 

More than one soldier approached, their hands already reaching for the weapon, ready to relieve him of the burden. But pride made Kotallo lift his chin and shake his head. He would not show weakness in front of the tribe, not now when they’ve pinned their hopes on him. 

He looked at Aloy and jutted his chin as he adjusted his hold on the cannon. “Let’s go,” he said, before stepping forward to walk in the middle of the soldiers with Aloy falling into step beside him in silence.

Kotallo’s steps were heavy on the snow, and more than once he thought he would stumble. But he pressed forward, his heart thudding with anticipation as they marched to the front. Focusing on his breathing, he didn’t make eye contact with any of the soldiers that whispered around them, knowing that the doubt he would see in their eyes would only add to his own.

This plan was the only one they had. This was their one shot. 

“Is this going to work?” Drakka asked when they finally made their way to the front. He was standing with Atekka, both of them frowning at the cannon. 

“It has to,” Kotallo grunted as he set the cannon down on the remnants of an Old World metal contraption next to one of the crags that had been there for as long as he could remember. He rolled his shoulder and neck as he straightened.

He turned to Drakka and Atekka. “We have to be ready to charge as soon as the Bulwark falls.”

The two commanders glanced at the Bulwark, their eyes sweeping across the boulders as if trying to imagine them away. 

Atekka was the first to look back at Kotallo, her eyes determined as she nodded to him. “May the Ten guide your blade.”

Drakka barked a laugh as he waved one of his soldiers over. “We’ll see you up there,” he said, already turning away. “Can’t wait to see you gut the bastard.” 

They both walked away, going to the troops to give out orders. When they were out of earshot, Kotallo turned around and looked at the wall. Even he couldn’t imagine it falling to a single cannon. 

“We’re going to need a miracle,” he muttered.

“Coming right up,” Aloy said, taking her place behind the cannon. The weapon whirred to life under her hands as she directed it upwards and to the side. “Gotta blast away some rocks so I can expose the power cell.”

No movement over the walls, except for the guards that had already been stationed there when they had arrived. It was a clear message from Tekotteh.

Even with almost the entire tribe at his doorstep, they were not a threat. 

Plasma shot out from the cannon, hitting the wall with a purple glow. Some rocks fell from the blast, but—

“Nothing’s exploding,” Kotallo said, his heart in his throat. 

Aloy shook her head, shooting the wall again with plasma. “No, look, it’s working!”

More rocks fell, and now Kotallo could see the Old World contraption that she had talked about. It looked like one of those armored machinery depicted in some of the Visions at the Grove, the ones with the long metal piece jutting out from the front. 

But the Bulwark remained intact, mocking them with its strength.

A bitter huff escaped Kotallo’s lips. It was just another failure to add to his dismal track record. Did he really expect this to go differently? “This isn’t going to work,” he said. 

Aloy clicked her tongue. “I’m just getting started.”

Laughter filled the air, echoing throughout the clearing. Kotallo’s blood ran cold as he looked up again. He’d know that laugh anywhere.

Sure enough, Tekotteh appeared. He stepped onto the wooden platform of the watchtower just above the Old World contraption, unafraid of the cannon in Aloy’s hands.

And why would he be? Killing him with the weapon would only cause more problems.

Suddenly worried, Kotallo glanced at Aloy. But her finger was not on the trigger, and though she looked angry, her breathing was calm and steady.

“Well isn’t this impressive?” Tekotteh said, taking a leisurely moment to look at the full force of the rebellion. He turned to the soldier next to him. “I hope they haven’t hurt the Bulwark’s feelings.”

He turned back to them and waved his hand, shooing them away. “Come now, stop embarrassing yourselves and leave this poor mountain alone!”

Kotallo clenched his fist, despair giving way to the heat in his blood at the sight of Tekotteh. His shoulders shook from the force of the hatred rushing through his body. Or perhaps it was grief. 

He was going to kill Tekotteh. Nothing was going to stop him. If the Bulwark didn’t collapse, he was going to climb up there if he had to. 

Taking hold of his spear, he turned his back on the Bulwark and faced the rebels. “There has only been one other time that so many of us have gathered in one spot to defeat a common enemy!”

He lifted his spear, pointing it towards Tekotteh. “Do not forget that he is working with that enemy. But no more! Today is the day that stops, today is the day—the last day this traitor calls himself chief!”

“This is your last day today. You have it backwards!” Tekotteh shouted, all amusement gone from his voice. He pointed his finger at them. “Do not force me to spill Tenakth blood. Leave this place, all of you! And take this cripple with you!”

The cannon creaked from the force of Aloy’s grip. Teeth clenched, she turned to Kotallo and nodded. He dragged in a breath and returned her nod. 

“Be ready to charge!” he yelled as Aloy faced the Bulwark and adjusted her aim.

The cannon creaked again as she squeezed the trigger, shooting plasma directly onto the ancient contraption. The ground shook as the metal burst upon impact, fire lighting up the rocks that flew forcefully from it as the Old World machine exploded and shattered.

Kotallo held his breath. 

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then a loud crack reverberated through the air, just before the boulder the wooden platform was resting on began to crumble. Tekotteh and his soldiers shouted, pushing each other as they scrambled upwards, narrowly escaping the platform before it broke and joined the falling rocks. 

Dust billowed from the wall as other boulders below the first cracked as well, then the ones below that, until Kotallo was watching the whole left section of the wall collapse. 

It was as if time had slowed as the wall fell, then stopped when the rocks had finally ceased moving. Everything was still, quiet but for the howling wind. The fallen rocks had formed a series of jagged steps upwards, stopping below an enormous gap between the mountain and the larger boulders at the center of the wall. 

That was their way in.

Aloy did it!

“What have you done?!” Tekotteh cried.

But Kotallo ignored him and faced the rebels, holding his spear high above his head.

“CHARGE!”

The ground shook once more, this time from the rush of hundreds of feet rushing towards the Bulwark. Voices rose up behind him, the rebels’ battle cries mingling with his own.

Tekotteh had disappeared from the platform when they reached the base of the ruined wall. Kotallo let out a growl of frustration as he stowed his spear. He would need his hand to get up there.

Kotallo leaped and climbed over the rocks, harder and faster than any of the others. The sharp edges cut into the unprotected flesh of his hand and fingers, the tiny nicks fueling his anger. Tekotteh would not escape him this time!

The heads of several Sky clan soldiers peeked out through the gap above them, and in the middle was a familiar weathered face that took Kotallo a second to recognize as Chaplain Gerrah. “Hurry, Marshal!” she cried, waving her hand, beckoning him forward. “He’s getting away!”

Kotallo growled low in his throat as he climbed over another boulder. Nothing Tekotteh did would surprise him anymore. He was disgusted, but also grateful. He had expected to be pelted with arrows, but it seemed that whatever loyalty the Sky clan may have had left towards Tekotteh had crumbled along with the Bulwark. 

The others seemed to have realized it too. Amidst the chaos, Kotallo heard the clanging of metal against stone as the rebels left behind the machine plates they had used as shields when they assaulted the Grove. 

Kotallo tensed as hands closed around his wrist as soon as he reached the splintered remains of the watchtower. Gerrah’s hands, but then other hands joined hers, grabbing him by his arm and his shoulders. 

She and the other Sky soldiers pulled him up the rest of the way, then pushed him forward as soon as he found his footing. 

There was no time to linger, no time to thank them, and no time to think too deeply about what it all meant. 

Kotallo turned the corner, passing other Sky soldiers. They stood still, holding their weapons in their hands, pointing them towards the ground. He glimpsed their troubled expressions as he ran, and heard the plea beneath their murmured encouragement. 

The stillness in the settlement made it easy to spot Tekotteh. He was running up the stone steps, fleeing from the center, his panic making him oblivious to the glares his soldiers sent his way.

“Attack! Defend the Bulwark!” Tekotteh yelled as he pushed people out of his way. But one familiar soldier appeared in front of him and would not move, blocking his path even as he tried to step around her. 

Kotallo slammed the butt of his spear on the ground. “There's nowhere else to run, Tekotteh! Nowhere else you can hide!” He slowed his steps but didn’t stop until he was standing next to the melee pit. “Come and face me!”

At first, Tekotteh just stood there, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly. Then he turned, his face murderous as he slowly made his way down the steps. 

Rolling his shoulders, Kotallo waited until Tekotteh was halfway down before walking to the melee pit. The tip of his spear scratched the ground as he circled the pit, trying to remember the last time Tekotteh had granted his soldiers a demonstration. 

Even when he was younger, seeing the Commander train was rare. He might’ve watched Hekarro training more in the two years he was a marshal than witnessed Tekotteh holding a blade growing up. 

If Kotallo hadn't fought by Tekotteh’s side against the Carja a few years ago, he would've thought that the man had neglected his own training. That might have been the only time he had seen Tekotteh wielding any kind of weapon.

But when Tekotteh finally arrived at the pit, his sword in his hand, Kotallo grew pale as the memory of the last time he had seen it surged in his mind. Clenching his spear, he fought the urge to step back to put as much distance between himself and the blade that had taken his arm.

The sword glinted menacingly as Kotallo’s eyes traced the full length of it. His stump throbbed, as if it too was afraid.

The harsh lines on Tekotteh’s face twisted, his enraged expression transforming into a sneer. “Recognize this, do you?” he said, waving his sword in front of him. 

The melee pit was made smaller when shadows appeared on the ground. Sky soldiers and rebels watched the exchange, their heads blocking the afternoon sun. The walls seemed like they were closing in on Kotallo, trapping him inside with Tekotteh's sword.

Dust and dirt drifted from the edges of the pit from the force of their audience's rhythmic stomps. They began to chant, signifying the start of the trial-by-combat.

Tekotteh paused, his lips forming a smirk as his eyes trailed over Kotallo’s form. He raised his head to address the crowd that had formed above them. “You would have him lead you?” he yelled, pointing his sword towards Kotallo. The chants did not stop, only grew louder. “This is the chief you want? This cripple?”

“Better a cripple than a traitor,” Kotallo spat, still keeping his distance. “Better a cripple than a coward!”

Tekotteh's lip curled. The sudden downswing of his sword was Kotallo’s only warning as Tekotteh lunged at him.

Kotallo flinched back with a sharp intake of breath. The back of his armor brushed against the wall. Clicking his tongue, he forced himself to step forward. He couldn’t let himself be cornered.

Tekotteh barked a harsh laugh. “I'll let you live, but I'll take your other arm,” he taunted. “Perhaps I'll take your legs, too. Then you will wish I had killed you instead.”

His fear made way for the heat of rage. It coursed through his body as he rushed towards Tekotteh. The sounds faded in the background. His ears rang with the clang of steel against steel as his spear met Tekotteh's sword again and again.

Tekotteh’s eyes were wide as he frantically parried Kotallo’s blows. His focus entirely on the barrage of attacks, he stepped back, one foot after the other.

He yelped as Kotallo sliced the back of his hand, blood gushing out of the wound as his grip on his sword loosened until it fell on the ground. Tekotteh stepped back, then gasped when his back hit the wall.

Kotallo arm darted upwards, raising his spear above his head. But as he was about to drive his weapon into Tekotteh, a surge of pain throbbed in his shoulder. 

His hesitation cost him. Tekotteh punched him squarely in the face and scrambled away from him, picking up his sword on the ground as Kotallo’s vision swam. 

Kotallo wiped the blood trickling down from his nose with his knuckles. Despite the rage fueling his movements, he could feel fatigue slowly steal into his arm. His body was paying for the lack of rest between the battle against the tremortusk, carrying the massive cannon on his shoulder back to the Bulwark, and now. 

Gritting his teeth, he swung his spear around and hoped the gesture was enough to disguise that he was rolling his shoulder. He couldn't let Tekotteh know that he was in pain. 

Tekotteh kept his distance from him, holding his sword in front of him with both of his hands. Each step Kotallo took forward had the man stepping back. This went on for a few minutes, with them circling the pit and Kotallo unable to close the gap. 

Kotallo couldn't let Tekotteh drag this fight out. Any longer and he might not have enough strength left.

Shaking his head, Kotallo dragged in a breath. When he looked at Tekotteh again, he forced out a chuckle. “What's the matter?” he asked. “Still afraid of me, are you?”

Tekotteh bristled. “I have never been afraid of you!”

Kotallo feinted, lunging forward, and laughed when Tekotteh almost stumbled backwards. 

“You have always been afraid of me,” Kotallo said, shaking his head again. “You were afraid of me when I was just a young soldier, and you're afraid of me now.”

Tekotteh let out a roar before rushing him. His sword was heavy against Kotallo’s spear, and each parry brought a fresh wave of pain in his shoulder. 

Kotallo hissed as blood splattered from a slice to his arm just above his vambrace. Tekotteh grinned and swung his sword again. “Careful now, or you really will lose your other arm.”

A flash of worry made him gasp for air. “It’s only us in the pit,” he said, his voice a near-whisper. “You have no one to order to hold me down.”

The grip of fear on his heart loosened when he spoke the words. It was as if there had been a fog obscuring his memories, but now his mind was clear. 

“Do you really think you could have taken my arm on your own?” Kotallo continued, his voice growing louder. 

He parried Tekotteh’s attack. The strength of it made Tekotteh stumble sideways. 

“You are weak—you have always been weak!” Kotallo yelled. “Once a spineless commander, now an even more cowardly chief!”

For the second time, Kotallo let his rage fuel him. He traded blows with Tekotteh, and he didn't stop even when his shoulder throbbed. He didn't stop even when Tekotteh managed to nick his stomach or land another punch to the side of his jaw. 

Kotallo grunted against another stab of pain, his body lowering slightly when Tekotteh kicked his knee. He raised his arm instinctively as Tekotteh brought down his sword, the metal plating on his vambrace saving it from being sliced. 

He shifted his arm, pushing the sword away, then turned. Putting his entire weight on his next blow, he practically pushed his shoulder against the shaft of his spear as the tip sliced through Tekotteh's middle.

Tekotteh gasped, blood spilling from his mouth as he fell to his knees. Drops of crimson stained the ground and snow below as he clutched his stomach, forcing his flesh together with trembling fingers. He looked up at Kotallo, his face equal parts confusion and fear. 

Kotallo blinked dumbly at him, panting heavily as he straightened. He glanced at Tekotteh’s sword and kicked it away.

Tekotteh's eyes went round. “Wait,” he said as he attempted to stand, but he winced so hard that he fell to his side.

“This is the end,” Kotallo said, hardly believing it. 

“I’ll go away!” Tekotteh cried. He was squirming on the ground, pushing away from Kotallo with his feet, but he was so weak that he only managed to kick up dirt. “You’ll never see me again, I swear! I swear!”

Kotallo’s eyes blurred around the edges as he walked towards Tekotteh, his cheeks were damp and cold, and the end of his stump burned as though his arm was freshly cleaved. But whatever rage he had been feeling had thawed and all he could feel as he stared at the tears streaming down Tekotteh’s face was pity. 

When he was old and gray, would Kotallo remember this version of Tekotteh? Or would he remember the smiling man Tekotteh had been that had looked at Kotallo with pride?

He gripped the spear in his hand, his jaw clenched so tight that his teeth hurt. 

“No, plea—!”

With a loud cry, Kotallo plunged the tip of his spear past Tekotteh’s hand and into his gut. More blood spilled from Tekotteh’s mouth, his eyes so wide they looked as if they would pop from his head. 

Of all the things Kotallo wanted to say, nothing came out. There had been plenty that he had wanted to know. Why did Tekotteh do it? Why did this have to end this way? Why did he throw Kotallo away?

Instead he watched in silence, his face crumpling as he watched the life leave Tekotteh’s eyes, trying to make peace with the fact that his questions would forever remain unanswered.

Kotallo stepped back, leaving his spear in Tekotteh’s body as he looked up to search for Aloy’s face. But as soon as he did, screams filled the Bulwark, making him jolt. It took him a second to realize that they were not screams, but the sound of hundreds of Tenakth rejoicing. 

They were cheering. For him. 

Drakka jumped into the pit and ran towards him, grinning as his hand closed around Kotallo’s wrist. He raised their hands above their heads, just as Kotallo had done when Drakka had defeated Yarra. 

But whatever Drakka said was drowned out by the entire tribe, their voices merging as one.

“Chief Kotallo! Chief Kotallo! Chief Kotallo! Chief Kotallo! Chief Kotallo!”

Kotallo finally found Aloy in the middle of the crowd, her hand over her heart, wearing a smile that was both relieved and proud.

There, he thought, letting his head fall back. The last rays of the sun fell on his tear-streaked face, warming his skin. Despite his heavy armor, he felt weightless. 

Blood for blood.

Chapter Text

Kotallo felt the change in the air immediately. The linen under his armor no longer stuck to his skin, and his sweat cooled on his forehead. The others breathed a sigh of relief behind him, feeling the change too. 

After days spent in the jungle, they were finally in Sky territory.

They arrived earlier than Kotallo had expected they would. Snow fell gently from the top, but this side of the mountain was too far west and too close to the jungle to be completely covered by it. The afternoon sun was still behind the tall mountain, bathing the rocky cliff face above them in shadow. But even from this distance, it was easy to make out the Sky colors painted on the rocks and wood above them.

“Of course it would be atop a cliff.”

Kotallo arched his brow at Aloy. “You expected differently?”

She grimaced. “I shouldn't have. It's in the settlement’s name after all.”

They stepped on rocks to avoid trudging through the river, then climbed the mountain. Kotallo’s guards had looked at each other skeptically at first, but when they saw that he was climbing almost as fast as Aloy was, their eyes had widened in amazement. 

He supposed it was easy for other people to forget that he was the one that led his squad on that dangerous climb into the Daunt now that he only had one arm. But even with only one hand this climb was nowhere near as difficult as that, or even the treacherous mountain all Sky soldiers had to climb to complete the March of the Ten. 

Kotallo pulled himself up after Aloy, panting slightly, and spotted a familiar man approaching. He grinned and was about to spread his arm to hug the man, but stopped short when the man saluted him instead.

Ikkotah’s pale blue paint around his eyes crinkled at the uncomfortable expression on Kotallo’s face. “Chief,” he said, his smile both fond and proud. 

Kotallo sighed. “At ease,” he grumbled. 

The older man snorted as he lowered his arm. “Still not used to it, huh?”

“I do not believe I will ever get used to it,” he admitted.

Ikkotah shook his head in amusement before glancing down at Kotallo’s guards, still climbing up the mountain. Then he turned to Aloy and nodded to her in greeting, eyeing her red hair curiously. “Wall-breaker. Welcome to Cliffwatch.”

“Just Aloy,” she said just as Kotallo knew she would. 

Ikkotah nodded again. “I'm Ikkotah. I've known the Chief since he was a fledgeling soldier.”

Aloy’s eyebrows shot up, her interest piqued. “Oh?”

Kotallo snorted. He already knew which stories Ikkotah would tell her. 

It was then that his guards finally completed the climb, saving Kotallo from having to relive the embarrassing moments of his youth. Ikkotah gave them a moment to catch their breaths before gesturing towards the settlement. “Come, I'll show you where you'll be staying.”

Natikka stepped forward, dressed in her cropped desert armor. Though she put on a brave face, her body was rigid, arms tight against her sides. It was clear that the cold bothered her. “Only the Chief and the Champion will be staying. The rest of us will head back to the Grove before the sun sets,” she said, her voice shaking. Then she pursed her lips, glancing at Kotallo. “Though we would feel much better if we could accompany the Chief just a little further.”

Kotallo chuckled, but then stiffened when Aloy spoke. Natikka’s eyes widened infinitesimally, realizing her error. 

“I didn't know they weren't staying,” Aloy said with a tilt of her head. 

“They'll go on ahead to help with the preparations,” Kotallo said vaguely with a wave of his hand. 

“Okay,” Aloy said slowly, frowning at Natikka who was suddenly rummaging through her satchel. The other guards had turned away, pretending to point at something toward the settlement. She turned back to Kotallo. “And where are we going?”

Though it was cool, Kotallo’s palm began to sweat. He shrugged, hoping Aloy wouldn't catch on. “Onwards,” he said. But when Aloy narrowed her eyes, he added, “We still need to visit the other Sky settlements.”

Ikkotah saved Kotallo from having to think of more excuses by interrupting Aloy just as she was about to speak again. “While you are here, perhaps you could help me and the village,” he said to Aloy, his finger pointed in the direction they had come from. “In the forest to the west, our people have always found good salvage from shell-walkers and clamberjaw piles. But now, killer machines stalk the area.”

Aloy frowned. “Machines with the black armor?”

Ikkotah nodded. “Clawstriders, for certain. And I’ve heard rumors of something worse. In years past, I would have asked Marshal Chekkatah to help me clear out the threat but…” he trailed off, looking out into the forest below with sad eyes. Then he shrugged, turning back to Aloy with a pinched smile. “There aren’t enough soldiers to help. What do you say? Are you up for a hunt?”

Aloy glanced at Kotallo, sending him a look he knew meant that she hadn't forgotten what they had been talking about. But then she looked back at Ikkotah with a smile. “I just might be.”

Kotallo’s eyebrows leapt. He shook his head when Ikkotah looked at him in askance. Aloy couldn't have known without being told, and he certainly hadn't told her.

“Strange,” the man murmured, studying Aloy’s face. “Chekkatah used to use those same words in the same way. A good omen, I suppose.”

Ikkotah shot Kotallo with a knowing look that he pretended not to see, and he covered his nerves with a smile and a wave when Aloy narrowed her eyes again at him before leaving. 

When they were gone, he arched a brow at Natikka. She winced and ducked her head. “Sorry, Chief.”

Like in the Lowland settlements they had visited, Kotallo spent the rest of the day talking to the villagers while his guards restocked their supplies. Two of the villagers had been part of the rebel army, and they regaled the rest with stories of Kotallo's accomplishments starting from his return to Barren Light. 

Before his exile he would have puffed up his chest, pleased with the admiration others rained on him. Now he struggled to keep from feeling self-conscious. 

He bit back a smile as he thought about it. This was no doubt due to Aloy’s influence.

Cliffwatch’s leader arrived with a dead boar slung over his shoulders a few hours later. He was an older man with arms as wide as tree trunks and a countenance so cold it rivaled the Sheersides.

He had been there to see the Bulwark’s fall and had witnessed Tekotteh’s defeat. Kotallo was the rightful Chief he said, but he was still skeptical of Kotallo’s leadership.

Kotallo was neither surprised nor offended. Regardless of his achievements, it would take time for all of the Tenakth to fully accept a one-armed chief. It was simply their way, but that would change with time. At least he didn't need to worry about being stabbed in the back by this one, or by any of the leaders he had spoken to.

He readily shared his plans with Cliffwatch’s leader, and then his time in the east when the man showed interest. It turned out to be a good conversation, and ended with Kotallo defeating him in Strike three times out of five. 

“We're ready to head out, Chief,” Natikka said, still looking displeased, though it was perhaps more to do with the cold. His Desert-born and Lowland-born guards had done nothing to make themselves warmer, despite Kotallo’s assurances that he would not think them weak for it. 

Natikka crossed her arms. “Are you certain you don't want us to accompany you until Stone Crest, at least?”

Kotallo snorted. “And have you reveal my plans to Aloy?” he said with a smirk. “I think not.”

The other guards snickered. A bright flush crept up Natikka's unpainted neck as she ducked her head for the second time that day. “That was an accident,” she muttered.

The sun made its way west, painting the entire rock face a beautiful warm color. Kotallo kept an eye on the cliff, waiting for Aloy’s and Ikkotah’s return, his stomach grumbling at the savory scent of land and lake wafting through the settlement from the cook’s hut. 

They arrived just as the last rays of the sun disappeared into the horizon, looking victorious though a little worse for wear. The tassets of her Lowland armor were caked in dirt and there were leaves stuck to her boots. Some had even made their way to her hair. 

Aloy and Ikkotah parted, and Kotallo watched as she began to scan the settlement. He sighed as he leaned against the wall, feeling incredibly content with the knowledge that he was the one she was searching for. 

A panicked expression came over her face when soldiers began to flock to her, asking her questions and inviting her to spar. Chuckling to himself, he pushed against the wall, deciding to rescue her. 

When Aloy finally spotted him, her small frown morphed into a gentle smile.

“There you are,” she said as he approached, relief obvious in her tone. The soldiers’ heads snapped in his direction and thumped their fists on their chests, and though deference was clear on their faces, Kotallo recognized mischief in their grins. 

He cleared his throat. “The Champion just returned from a hunt,” he said, arching his brow at all of them. “Perhaps tomorrow she can spar with you before we depart.”

“Yes, Chief,” they said in unison. Whispers and glances were exchanged as soon as they retreated from the pair.

“I take it your hunt with Ikkotah went well?” Kotallo said quickly when Aloy turned her head, straining to listen. 

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” Aloy said, then shifted her body to show him part of her back. 

He tutted as he traced a finger along the slash right beneath her cropped armor. It was long with jagged edges, but not too deep. “Clawstrider tail?”

Aloy nodded. “Those things are fast.”

“Indeed. Why don’t you go to our quarters and change? I’ll get us food and I can help tend to your wounds.” Kotallo laid his hand on her shoulder and steered her towards a short path that led upwards into a small wooden deck built into the side of the mountain. “It’s that one over there. Our things are already inside.” 

Decorative machine plates painted in Sky colors adorned the arch above the doorway and the room was hidden by a thick canvas made with dark leather and fur. Upon seeing it, Aloy grinned at him.

“We haven’t had a room to ourselves since Tide’s Reach,” she said in a low voice.

He hummed in agreement, his body suddenly thrumming with anticipation. “No guards. No one listening in from just outside,” he said in a low voice. “You’ll be able to make as much noise as you like.”

But it had been the wrong thing to say. Aloy’s smile vanished and was replaced by an inquisitive look. “They left then? Natikka and the others?”

“Ah, yes they did. A few hours ago,” he said, pushing her now towards the stone steps. “Go on. I will be back with food.”

Aloy snorted, arching her brow at him. But to his relief, she went up without further comment. They still had three settlements to visit, three more leaders to speak to. But Kotallo knew that his people liked to talk, and he feared that any longer and Aloy would figure out where he was leading her. 

The room was sparse, but spacious and clean. Aloy had already doffed her chestplate when he arrived, balancing two bowls of land and lake on his arm. Her eyes widened in excitement as she stood there in the center of the room in her bandeau and her tassets, her eyes widening in excitement, oblivious to the way Kotallo’s eyes traced her bare skin.

“That smells great,” she said, reaching for the food once the bowls were on the small wooden table. 

Kotallo grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles, before making her yelp in surprise as he turned her around. “Let me tend to you first.”

There was bruising here and there, but the only wound that needed attention was the slash on her back. She couldn’t wait for him to finish so she ate as he worked, and fed him pieces of the fish from his bowl as she chewed. When he was done, Kotallo reached up and gathered as much of Aloy’s thick hair in his hand. Then he pushed it over her other shoulder. She took another bite of her fish and smiled at him, a knowing look in her eye. 

He tucked his face against the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin. Aloy let out a soft squeal around a mouthful of food as she tried to get away, but he wrapped his arm around her to keep her still. 

“You're interrupting my meal,” she said, lifting her hand to hover over his cheek, threatening to touch him with her sticky fingers.

Kotallo kissed her bare shoulder and leaned back. Reluctantly, he stood from the floor. “Go on, then,” he said as he unclipped his pauldron, arching his brow when Aloy looked up at him, her smile turning cheeky.

She watched him undress while chewing, making him feel a bit like he was putting on a show for her. Kotallo huffed in amusement, but stared straight at her as he began removing his cuirass.

The stitcher at the Grove had praised Aloy's handiwork when they had asked him to modify his armor. The clasps had been moved to the side and now Kotallo could don and doff his armor with ease. Which was just as well, he didn't want to ask anyone other than Aloy to help him do this. And with her leaving soon—

“What's wrong?” 

Kotallo’s hand twitched above his belt as he looked up. “What?”

Aloy frowned. “You looked like you were thinking hard about something.”

He dropped his belt and tassets on the floor next to the other pieces of his armor, leaving him in nothing but his shorts, greaves, and sandals. Feeling naked in more ways than one, he shrugged. “I was just thinking that we have not been away from each other since we met.”

Aloy washed her hands into a basin of water, silent for a moment, before looking up at him again. She tried for a smile. “There was that time I left you with Zo,” she reminded him, “right after I rescued you in Sunfall.”

Kotallo nodded as he bent down. “That's true.”

“Here, let me do that,” she said, scooting near him while still on the floor and pushing his hand away from his greaves. After a while she said, “I guess that was the only time.”

She hid her face from him as she focused on unclasping his sandals, but her voice had taken on such a sad note. 

He stepped out of his sandals and gently pulled her up by her wrist. “The days I spent with you have been the happiest days of my life,” he whispered.

“Mine too,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Pulling him closer, she stood on her toes and kissed him.

The insistent slide of her lips against his made him gasp, and she took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. His cock throbbed in anticipation and the skin on his neck tingled at the way Aloy’s hand traveled upwards towards his head. She tugged on the cord holding his hair back and his locks fell around his face softly.

Kotallo helped Aloy out of the rest of her armor, letting each piece fall, making a trail to the pile of furs by the wall as he led her there. They laughed together when she stumbled, almost slipping on the floor if not for his quick reflexes. She tugged his shorts down and he stepped out of them as she lifted her bandeau and tossed it aside. 

They held each other as they lay on the furs, their lips never straying far from the other as their hands wandered down the other’s body. 

Aloy whined against his lips as he palmed her breast, feeling her nipple harden against his hand. It was difficult in this position, with their bodies pressed so close, but he couldn’t bring himself to move back for the longing in his heart. And with how tightly Aloy’s hands were grasping his head as they kissed, she didn’t seem to want him far from her either. 

There had not been a lot of opportunities to be alone on their journey around the Clan Lands, not with Kotallo’s guards in tow. Even when they had stayed in the other settlements, the knowledge that there were guards waiting just outside whatever hut they were provided had made Aloy antsy. Their couplings then had been deeply satisfying, with both of them going hard at one another, but had always ended quickly.

But now they had privacy, and Kotallo was determined to take his time.

He gentled their kiss as he played with her nipples, keeping his fingers light and his touches almost fleeting. Instead of the impatience he was used to, Aloy sighed into his mouth and her body softened against him, seeming content with the slow pace he was setting.

The desperate desire to be touched was strong, the ache in his cock was becoming difficult to ignore. The feeling only worsened the more that it rubbed against Aloy’s smooth skin. 

As if she could read his thoughts, Aloy’s hand wandered lower, stroking his shoulders then trailing her fingers down his arm until her hand closed around his wrist. She removed his hand from her breast and led him further down her body without breaking the kiss. Her wordless demand made Kotallo’s blood sing. He dutifully cupped her sex, her slick immediately coating his fingers. 

Aloy moaned as she moved her hips back slightly, spreading her legs to give him room. Then she let go of his wrist and took his cock in her hand.

She kept her grip loose as she stroked him, still in that slow and leisurely pace, providing just enough friction to keep him hard but not enough for him to spill. Following her example, Kotallo traced around her clit with a light finger. 

With a whine, Aloy broke the kiss. Kotallo opened his eyes, drinking in the sight of the way pleasure and frustration danced across her face as he teased her. 

Aloy opened her eyes and he immediately saw the plea in them. She took her other hand and touched his bottom lip. “Kotallo,” she whispered, her hips moving restlessly.

He smiled, feeling happy and just a bit smug. “Do you want my mouth?”

Aloy pursed her lips. “I want to do what we did back in our room in Pitchcliff.”

“You will have to be more specific,” he said with a chuckle. They had done a great many things in that room after their first night together, eagerly exploring each other’s bodies, discovering what the other liked. 

She huffed, looking away for a moment. When she met his gaze again, her hand tightened on his cock and she gave him a firm stroke. A shiver went up his spine and his eyes fell closed. 

“Aloy,” he panted.

But before Kotallo could slip his finger inside her, Aloy pushed him back down onto the furs. Without letting go of his cock, she pulled her legs from under her and knelt by his head. His eyebrows leapt, surprised as he realized what she meant. She had been shy the first and only other time they had done this. But if this was what she wanted tonight, he would be happy to indulge her.

Kotallo settled back so that he was lying completely flat. As soon as he did, Aloy straddled his head and leaned forward, then licked his cock from root to tip without warning. He hissed in a breath at the pleasure that spiked through him, filling his senses with her intoxicating scent as he pulled her down his face by the hip. 

The deliciously slow pace from before promptly disappeared. It was as if Aloy was determined to make him come. She slid her lips over and around his cock, taking in as much as she could. When she had grown more comfortable, she started bobbing her head with a speed that made his thighs tense. 

Kotallo squeezed the cheek of her ass as he licked her clit and kissed her folds. He forced himself to relax, but couldn’t quite stop the way his toes curled. That and focusing on Aloy’s pleasure distracted him from the sensations she was subjecting him to with her mouth. 

He didn’t want to reach his peak without Aloy first reaching hers. Slipping two fingers inside her, he began to suck her clit, making her cry out around his cock. 

Aloy lifted her mouth, her lips making a popping sound as she released his cock to catch her breath. She tried taking him into her mouth again, but couldn’t keep it up for very long with the way she was panting. 

“Kotallo, I can’t—,” she broke off with a whine as he curled his fingers.

She cried out again, digging her nails into his thighs. Her own thighs were shaking on either side of his head. He lifted his face to press his lips more firmly around her clit, listening to her broken moans as she came. 

When her moans quieted and her trembling faded, Kotallo let his head fall back. He turned to the side, wiping his mouth against the side of her thigh while stroking her hip. 

“I can’t move my legs,” Aloy groaned as she lifted herself off his stomach.

He chuckled, gazing up at her sex, admiring the way it glistened in the light. “I don’t mind.”

Clicking her tongue, Aloy swung her leg and got off him. But instead of lying down, she faced him then straddled him again. “Could you sit up?”

Kotallo frowned, but pushed himself up with his hand until his chin was level with her chest. He reached up and stroked her arm as he looked up at her, reading the sadness in her eyes. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Aloy whispered, placing her hands on his shoulders. She lowered herself until Kotallo could feel the head of his cock brush against her folds. 

He squeezed her arm, his chest tightening with worry. “Aloy, wai—”

Kotallo let out a deep groan, his hand darting to her hip as she sank down on his cock. Aloy whimpered as she clutched his shoulders, taking him inside her. Then she stopped, looking at her knees and wiggling her hips.

“Don’t move,” she said, shifting her right leg so that her heel brushed against his lower back. Then she did the same with her other leg. 

Kotallo’s breath stuttered as he felt Aloy take in more of him until she was fully seated, her ass flush against the top of his thighs. It was impossible to wrangle his thoughts, they scrambled at the intense pleasure of being this deep inside the woman he loved. 

He leaned his forehead against her clavicle, hissing in a breath when Aloy crossed her ankles behind him and rocked her hips once. “Wait,” he rasped as he looked up at her, squeezing her hip. “Tell me what's wrong.” 

“Nothing’s wrong,” she insisted in a soft voice and pressed her forehead against his. “I just want you close.”

Aloy kissed him before he could say any more. He moaned against her mouth as she rocked her hips again. And with her weight on top of his legs, Kotallo was at her mercy. 

Surrendering himself to the feeling of being completely enveloped by her warmth, he let his hand wander from her hip to slide across her lithe back. He felt his climax simmer to the surface, but the slow, sensual grind of Aloy’s hips kept it at bay, tormenting him.

The slick slide of her sex and the whimpers that escaped her lips between kisses stoked his desire and his impatience. But through the cloud of lust muddling his thoughts, he saw the longing in her bright eyes.

Then her breath quickened as did the movement of her hips, distracting him from his worry. Her legs trembled around his waist and soon an impatient whine rose from her throat. 

“I can't—,” she broke off with another whine.

“Here. Allow me,” Kotallo said, leaning back on the furs and pulling her with him. Her breasts were soft pressed up against his chest, and he lifted Aloy’s hips before pulling up his knees and planting his feet firmly on the furs.

He started thrusting up into her, making her cry out in surprise and sending sparks of pleasure through his whole body. Gone was the slow, gentle lovemaking from before. In place was a desperation that had Kotallo groaning with a rawness that scraped his throat. 

Kotallo wrapped his arm around Aloy’s waist to keep her still and thrust harder, feeling both of their climaxes near. She chanted his name in his ear, her blunt nails pressing on his shoulders. 

“I love you,” Aloy sobbed, and his heart quailed at the tone of her voice. But when he slowed his thrusts and turned his head to get a look at her face, she let out another whine. “No, don't stop!”

With a growl, he pumped into her harder, his hips pistoning upwards with a speed that made him grunt with the effort. Aloy’s sex pulsed around his cock, tightening with each thrust until she tensed. Then she threw her head back. 

“Kotallo!” Aloy cried out, shuddering above him. 

Beautiful, he thought as he watched her face contort with intense pleasure. He was so close, and she felt incredible. 

She released one last shaky breath, her body settling limply against his, touching his face with trembling fingers. Reluctantly, Kotallo pulled out of her. “Please. I need you,” he groaned. “Your hand, Aloy.”

Understanding lit her eyes and she climbed off of him, then took his slicked cock in her hand. Kotallo flexed his hips, gasping as she stroked him. 

He came with a shout, his eyes closing automatically as he clutched the furs below. Pleasure surged through his cock, to his thighs, to his stomach, until he was gasping for air.

Kotallo slumped back after, his chest heaving, feeling as if he had sprinted for miles. When Aloy released his cock, he opened his eyes to find her staring at him. Her eyebrows were knitted, and her eyes blazed with an emotion he couldn’t name, looking at him as if she was committing his face to memory. All the worries that he had pushed away in the heat of their lovemaking returned to him. 

Realizing that Kotallo had caught her staring, Aloy averted her gaze and quickly stood. She walked to the basin of water and picked up a clean bandage cloth. 

“Let me,” he said, propping himself on his elbow. 

She shook her head, pushing his chest back down. “It’s okay,” she said as she wiped the wet cloth on his come-spattered stomach. “You do this for me all the time and I—well, it’s my turn.”

When Aloy was done, she set the cloth aside and lay down beside him, tucking her head into Kotallo’s outstretched arm. He rubbed her shoulder as she twined her leg around his and traced the tattoos on his chest. 

Her silence was telling. But he knew that pressuring her to speak before she was ready wouldn’t do him any good. So he would wait.

But Aloy didn't speak for a long time and he felt himself drifting off to sleep. His breaths deepened, and his eyelids were growing heavy, lulled by Aloy’s warmth and the way she was stroking his chest.

“—than friends.”

He opened one eye, then the other when he realized that he had dozed off without meaning to. “Hmm?”

Aloy shifted so that he could see her face. “Ikkotah and Chekkatah. They were more than friends.”

“Yes,” Kotallo said. This wasn’t what he had expected her to say. “They were mates.”

She hummed thoughtfully and leaned her head back on his chest. “But Chekkatah was a Marshal and Ikkotah was stationed here.”

He blinked hard, trying to keep himself awake long enough for them to have this conversation. His mind, begging for sleep, struggled to understand why this was bothering her. 

“It—,” Aloy sighed heavily, “it must've been tough for both of them. To be away from each other all the time.”

Kotallo kissed the top of her head and tightened his arm around her. “Marshal Chekkatah often visited,” he said, remembering all the times Chekkatah returned from leave time, happier and more prone to smiling. 

“Yeah, Ikkotah said that too.” Aloy sighed again, her breath tickling his skin. “And now Chekkatah’s gone.”

She didn't say any more and Kotallo, drowsy and confused, didn't push her to continue. Lost in their own thoughts, they held each other in silence until Kotallo fell asleep.

It grew colder the deeper into Sky territory they traveled. Aloy changed into the armor she had purchased from Cliffwatch before they left. But she kept her Lowlander boots on, eyeing his bare toes. 

“You’re going to lose those if you don’t cover them up,” she warned.

Kotallo scoffed. “You forget that I cut my teeth on these mountains.”

Sneaking around machines became easier without their entourage. They stopped by Sky’s Sentry first. It was a much smaller settlement and Kotallo finished his meeting with the settlement leader early enough that they both decided not to spend the night. It was a decision Aloy regretted immediately when he led her to the shelter just above the valley with the lone tremortusk.

“I wouldn’t call this a shelter.”

Kotallo chuckled as he unclipped his cuirass. “Take off your armor, Aloy.”

“Are you serious?” she asked, dodging his hand as he reached for her.

He took the opportunity to show her how serious he was and, by the end of the night, Aloy was perfectly warm and sleeping soundly against his bare chest. 

It was wonderful to be alone with her, to see her unabashed smiles, and to hear the sweet sound of her laughter. But the more they neared the destination Kotallo had in mind, the more anxious he became.

The Sheerside Climb was just as small as Sky’s Sentry, so they did not spend the night there either. Instead they journeyed on until they reached Stone’s Crest. The torches had already been lit when they arrived, but the settlement’s leader had no qualms discussing tribe business over a hearty meal. After their meeting, he and Aloy listened to the scout’s reports.

They looked at each other in surprise. 

“Konakk left?” Kotallo asked.

The scout nodded. “He left for the Grove a few days ago, sir.”

He smiled, a sense of pride filling his chest as he thanked the scout.

Aloy placed her hands on her hips as soon as they were alone again. “Well, you were right after all,” she said with a disappointed huff, having just lost their wager. “I guess we'll see him at the Grove…after wherever we're going to go that you won't tell me.”

Sensing her frustration, Kotallo wanted to laugh. Deciding to take pity on her, he brushed his knuckles against her arm. “Back at the tremortusk site, I promised to take you on another hunt.”

The expression on her face changed in the blink of an eye. “What kind of machine?”

“You'll see when we get there.” Kotallo chuckled when Aloy rolled her eyes. “I promise.” 

They spent the night in Stone Crest and continued on their journey the next day, walking along the path. The further they walked, the more that the two snow-capped mountains loomed over them. When Kotallo spotted the footbridge with Sky totems on either side from afar, he knew they were close.

“We've been here before,” Aloy said softly, almost like she was talking to herself. “This is the path we took on the way to the tremortusks.”

Kotallo nodded. “Yes. We're almost there.”

“Maybe now you can tell me what we're hunting?”

He looked at her from the corner of his eye and shot her a sly smile before jogging ahead. “Not just yet.”

“Someone’s being awfully mysterious,” he heard her mumble behind him.

“You took your sweet time telling me what you wanted to do to the Bulwark, and what you were doing in Pitchcliff hiding in our room for five days,” he said and shrugged. “Consider this my revenge.”

She clicked her tongue. “Fair enough.”

Kotallo slowed upon reaching the footbridge, his eyes quickly darting in all directions along the path on the other side, looking for any hint of the machine. He jutted his chin over towards a large rock just a little ways past it. 

“We're here,” he said, lowering to a crouch behind the rock.

Aloy did the same. “Alright. Talk to me, Kotallo.”

It was then that the scorcher appeared. Difficult to miss with its black armor, it was as large as a ravager and clanged noisily with each step it took. Embers dripped from its open mouth as it pawed the ground, sizzling once it hit the snow. 

“That’s what we’re hunting?” Aloy asked.

“Yes. I have heard reports that it has menaced the valley for some time. Killed more than a few of the Sky Clan.” Kotallo said, shaking his head. “But no longer.”

The tribe needed to learn how to take these killer machines down better. It would be one of the things he would focus on once they ended the Red Raids. 

Aloy turned to him with a smile. “I'm honored to help.” She pulled out her satchel and began filling her quiver with arrows tipped with purgewater.

He tensed as he watched her. When faced with a new machine, Aloy usually tapped her Focus and scanned it. But she didn’t do it now, almost as if—

“You've fought an apex scorcher before?” Kotallo asked.

“One jumped out when I was out hunting with Ikkotah,” she said, setting her satchel aside and taking out her bow. “It was tricky at first, but we got it.”

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as disappointment welled inside him. Had he thought to ask before, he would have brought Aloy to fight a different kind of machine. He knew of a slaughterspine that lurked deep in the mountains south of Sky’s Sentry. That would be a challenging fight for sure, and would provide a more satisfying win than defeating a machine that Aloy had already fought against before.

But they were already here. The apex scorcher was just a few feet away from them. And Kotallo couldn't spend any more time away from the Grove, not when there were still things he needed to do as Chief. 

“You could distract it from afar while I hit it with purgewater,” Aloy said, nocking three arrows. “Once it’s drenched, you can throw your javelins at it.”

“No,” Kotallo said as he straightened, in a brisk tone that had Aloy raising her eyebrows at him. He reached behind him for his spear, taking steadying breaths to quell his frustration.

Aloy stood, glancing at his spear before studying his face. “You sure you want to get close to that thing?”

Kotallo sighed. “I will be fine,” he said softly. “Let me get into position. Then attack.”

Without waiting for a response, he ducked into the nearest tall grass and waited for the scorcher to turn away before moving forward to the next, until he was close enough to feel the immense heat emanating from the machine. Snow melted on the ground it walked on and sweat started to form behind Kotallo’s headpiece. 

He was in position, but his thoughts were not in order. Any less than absolute focus and this hunt would not end well. It was bad enough that his plan was not going according to his specifications. 

Kotallo took another breath, closing his eyes for a moment. He could only hope that this hunt would be enough to show Aloy that they were a good match. 

Turning his head in Aloy’s direction, knowing that she would be able to see him with her Focus, he made a tapping motion in the air with his spear to signal that he was ready. Her arrows whizzed by a second later, cutting through the air like a butcher knife. The scorcher reared up its head at the sound, but before its lights could turn red, one of its canisters shattered.

The scorcher let out a deafening roar as bright blue liquid exploded and painted its side. Steam rose from its body as it shook its large head from side to side, trying to get rid of the substance. 

With a roar of his own, Kotallo burst from the grass, tossing his spear into the air and catching it to change his grip. The cool air was no match for the heat of adrenaline he felt spanning his body as he hurled his spear towards the machine, hitting its flank with a resounding thunk. 

Spotting him, the scorcher growled and lowered to the ground as Kotallo was rushing towards it. He slid on the ground just as the scorcher pounced, sharp claws missing his face by an inch as he passed under the machine’s underside. 

Bouncing on his heels, Kotallo quickly stood and sprinted towards it again before the scorcher could turn around. He grabbed his spear and yanked it from the machine’s side, then sliced its leg with the tip. 

The scorcher turned its glowing eyes in his direction as he rolled to the other side and sliced it again, but before it could attack Aloy’s voice rang in the clearing.

“Hey! Over here!”

Aloy jumped from one of the large rocks, loosing one arrow, then another, then a third. All three arrows hit their mark, and all landed before she hit the ground and rolled out of the way, the machine's claws swiping at the air.

Incredible woman.

Kotallo’s concerns about the hunt vanished as he grinned, his blood pumping in excitement and awe. But the steam that surrounded the scorcher was fading and most of the blue substance had dried up. 

Flames spewed from its rear. It lowered its body to the ground.

“Aim for the other canister!”

“I know!”

Kotallo nearly got the timing wrong, he felt as if the paint on the left side of his face had melted just from how close he was from being charged by the machine. But he dove to the side, his landing softened by snow. 

Arrows tinged with blue flew over his head, but the other purgewater canister remained intact. The scorcher moved quickly now that it was no longer drenched, making it hard to aim for something so small.

“New plan!”

He huffed in spite of the situation, amused at Aloy’s statement. They had never discussed an alternative plan, but it was just like her to change tactics, to quickly adapt. Now she was hitting the scorcher’s body with purgewater, no longer aiming at just the remaining canister on its side. 

It growled at her, getting ready to attack. Kotallo rushed towards it and jumped in the air to slash its rear. He ducked low as a fiery claw swept over his head and knew that he had to move farther away for the next three claw attacks.

But its other claw was without flames and it was slowly becoming drenched again as more and more of Aloy’s purgewater arrows found purchase on its body.

Emboldened by the lack of fire, Kotallo rushed towards it again with reckless abandon as steam rose up again from its body. They had to take out its mine launcher before the flames returned.

The scorcher let out a high pitched mechanical sound as it pawed the ground with its large metal paws, momentarily distracted by the blue liquid seeping into the cracks of its armor. Kotallo stabbed the mine launcher with his spear and lifted himself, planting his feet on the scorcher's side and pried the weapon off its back. 

The steam dissipated into the air, flames spouted from the scorcher's paws as it began to vibrate wildly on the spot. 

“Kotallo, watch out!”

He leapt behind a rock, but couldn't get away fast enough. The scorcher slammed the ground, fire exploding outwards from its paws, singeing parts of his thigh and leg. 

Kotallo hissed through his teeth, glancing at the burn. His leg throbbed but he sprung up from behind the rock, ready to attack the scorcher anew. Then his heart seized, his eyes widening as Aloy lifted the mine launcher from the ground.

He had to stop her! The parts—she could damage the heart!

“Aloy, wai—!”

But she squeezed the trigger and ten mines flew into an arc, then hovered around the scorcher. One by one the mines exploded, covering the machine in fire and smoke. Its black metal platings were even darker now, charred in places. 

It began to spew fire again from its rear, gearing up to charge at Aloy. In a fit of anger, Kotallo raised his spear over his head. 

“DIE ALREADY!”

He hurled his spear, hitting the component on its back above its hind legs. The air exploded with blue electricity, making the hairs on his body stand on end. The scorcher spasmed, sparks crackling all over it as it fell twitching on the ground.  

Aloy hurried towards the machine and stabbed it in its open maw with a cry. The lights in its eyes faded and its body stilled.

Kotallo pursed his lips, unable to keep his frustration off his face. But when Aloy stood and turned in his direction, his anxiety eased.

“You okay?” she asked, her chest heaving as she beamed at him. A pretty flush covered her face all the way down her neck, disappearing into her armor. Her hair swayed with the wind and she flicked it back with an impatient huff.

Beautiful.

A different kind of tension settled in his shoulders as he approached, though it pleased him that her bright smiles were just for him. “I will be alright with some salve.”

“I have some in my satchel over there. Why don't you get it? I'll see if there's still parts worth salvaging.”

But before Aloy could stab the chassis with her spear, Kotallo stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Wait,” he said, gently pulling her away from the downed scorcher. “Let me do that.”

She glanced down at his leg with a frown. “Doesn't that hurt?”

“It does, but I would like to do this.”

“We could both do it. It'll be faster.”

He shook his head and continued pulling her away from the machine. Aloy stubbornly dug her heels into the ground. “Kotallo, what's—”

“Let me harvest the parts, Aloy, and I promise to answer your questions after.”

Narrowing her eyes at him, Aloy turned around and located the nearest rock. Once she reached it, she took a seat. “Okay, I guess I'll…” She crossed her arms, looking awkward. “I'll just wait here.”

He nodded and turned back towards the scorcher. With a wince, he planted one foot on its leg and yanked his spear from the component it was lodged into, then wedged the tip into a crack near its chest. 

It was slow-going. This was an apex machine, its black armor was tougher than a normal scorcher’s, and he was doing this with only one arm. But his frustration towards the time it was taking him to harvest the part he needed paled in comparison to the nervous thudding in his chest. 

The metal screeched as Kotallo finally managed to pry the chassis open. He tossed it aside once it separated from the scorcher’s body and knelt beside it, peering underneath.

He gave a sigh of relief. The machine heart was still whole. 

It took him another few minutes to harvest it, taking great care to not do any further damage. But when he straightened and lifted it to his face, he found that not only was it whole, it was in perfect condition.

Thank the Ten.

Tentative footsteps approached and he turned around to find Aloy looking at him, concern written on her face. Kotallo stepped towards her, silently holding out the scorcher heart in front of him. 

She took it from him and  inspected it, turning it sideways in her hands. When she was done, she looked up at him, confusion written on her face. “What's going on?”

Kotallo glanced at the ground, rubbing his thumb across his knuckles as he gathered his courage. Then he lay his hand on top of the scorcher heart, starting intently at Aloy. 

“When I bared myself to you for the first time by the river,” he paused, taking a deep breath, “I told you that, to the right person, removing one’s paint is a kind of declaration. Do you remember?”

Aloy glanced at the heart in her hands and visibly swallowed before turning her gaze back to him. “I remember.”

“This—,” he looked meaningfully at the heart, “—is also a kind of declaration.”

Her eyes widened. “And what are you declaring, exactly?”

Kotallo traced one of the grooves on the heart with his thumb. “When I lost my arm, I thought that the only thing that I would be good for would be to die for my tribe. And I had accepted that fate.”

“But you saved me,” he continued, unable to keep from smiling as the memory of seeing her for the first time surged in his mind, her red hair whipping around her face as she defeated the prison guards. Fierce. Unstoppable. “You saved me from the Sun-Ring, yes, but also from myself.”

Aloy had let him fight beside her that very day. Uncertainty had bloomed in his heart after his maiming, but there had been none in her eyes when she had accepted his offer to fight with her. She had not known his history or his reputation. All she had seen that day was a one-armed exile, but that hadn't stopped her from seeing the strength he thought he had lost.

Then he began seeing himself as she saw him. 

“I am who I am now because of you.” His eyes began to prickle and he blinked away the tears before they fell. There was more he wanted to say, there was more that he wanted Aloy to hear. “You are the best person I know. The kindest. The strongest. You have no need for whatever strength I have, but I offer it all to you anyway.”

Her expression remained the same, she was still just staring up at him. But her eyes began to shine with unshed tears as well, and Kotallo could only hope that that was a good sign. 

“I wish to be yours. To be your mate. To pledge myself to you. To give—,” he said, unable to hide the way his voice trembled, “—whatever is left of my life. If you will have me.”

Kotallo took his hand from the scorcher heart to place it on Aloy’s cheek. Her eyes were still wide, but apart from surprise he couldn't tell what she was thinking. “Your enemies will be my enemies. And whatever trials you will face, you need only say the word and I will go with you. You will not have to face anything alone. Never again.”

She looked at him silently then pulled away from him, his hand cooling immediately without the warmth of her cheek. Kotallo’s heart sank as he watched her turn to the side to place the scorcher heart on the ground. 

He glanced up, closing his eyes. “I know that this war will keep us apart for some time and I understand if you’re hesitant to—”

Aloy grabbed his face and kissed him hard, cutting off his words. His mind blanked, but it was over before he could register what was happening.

“How do I accept?” Aloy said, her breath tickling his chin. 

“You—,” he let out a sound of disbelief. “You accept?”

“Well I can’t if you don’t tell me what I need to do!”

Kotallo couldn’t help but laugh, feeling breathless as he wrapped his arm around Aloy’s shoulders. “You will need to present the heart to a chaplain,” he said, smiling so wide he started to feel his paint crack around his mouth. “We will say the ritual words and the inker will give us our bond tattoos.”

“Any chaplain?” Aloy tilted her head to look past him down the path leading further west. “Gerrah’s still at the Bulwark, right?”

He laughed again. He couldn’t seem to stop laughing. “Dekka might feel slighted if she is not the one we choose to preside over the ritual.”

Aloy’s shoulder’s drooped. “Okay, so we go back to the Grove.”

Kotallo pulled her closer and nuzzled the top of her head, squeezing her tightly to him. “You honor me, Aloy.”

She looked up at him with a worried expression. “Are you sure about this? About me?”

“I have never been more—”

“Because after we help Avad,” she interjected, reaching up to touch his face, “I’m going to go back to the Sacred Lands. I—I need to know, Kotallo. I need to know what it was all for, why I was…”

Pain flashed across Aloy’s face as she trailed off, biting her lip. “But I’ll come back and you’ll…you’ll be here?”

He touched his forehead to hers, wishing his headpiece was not in the way. His heart ached for her. For the child she never had the chance to be and for all that she had lost. “No matter how long it takes, I will wait for you,” he promised, holding her gaze. 

Kotallo knew how difficult it must be for her to imagine having a place to come back to, so he made her another promise. “You will always have a home here with me, Aloy. For as long as you wish.”

Her breath hitched as tears began falling from her eyes. “A home,” she whispered. She smiled brightly through her tears as she circled her arms around his neck. 

Happiness swelled inside him, lodging itself in his throat as he returned her embrace. He felt Aloy smile against his cheek, her breaths tickling his ear.

“I like the sound of that.”

Chapter Text

Her footsteps were quiet compared to the thunderous noise outside, and for once she did not hear the clack of wood against the stone with each step. She passed few of her tribesmen as she trudged towards the throne room. Only the guards were left standing in the hall. 

Armed and stiff-backed, they nodded to her as she walked by. She looked them in the eye when they did, looking for any signs of contempt. A mixture of relief and confusion filled her chest when she found only the usual deference that came with her station. 

Perhaps it shouldn’t come as a surprise. These guards had been part of Kotallo’s rebellion. 

The throne room was empty when she finally arrived, and the noise was louder here than it was in the hall. This part of the Grove had always been large, but after the explosion it felt insurmountable. 

Her leg twinged at the memory. 

She had just passed the platform where Hekarro once witnessed Faraday’s Vision when Kotallo emerged from behind the throne, walking through the bright lights. A small frown appeared on his face as he met her halfway, the cape strapped to his shoulders swaying behind him by his ankles as he climbed down the steps.

Biting back a wince, she transferred her cane to her left hand when she reached him, and thumped her fist to her chest. “Chief,” she said.

“At ease, Chaplain,” Kotallo said with a sigh. His frown deepened as he watched her transfer the cane back to her right hand.

“Don’t say that I—”

“You should be resting.”

“The healers have deemed me fit enough to walk unaided,” Dekka said, her back straightening in defiance. 

Kotallo shot her a chiding look. “But they haven't cleared you for duty.” 

She shrugged, unsurprised that Kotallo seemed to know everything that went on at the Grove. “I was already on my way here when the runner arrived. It seemed unnecessary to have him come all the way. Cruel, too. He was eager to head to the Arena.”

“The Carja prince has formed an alliance with the Oseram freebooters. They will be ready to march for Meridian in two months’ time,” she continued, taking out a small piece of parchment from one of the leather pouches strapped to her belt. “This came with the report.”

Kotallo unfolded the parchment, letting Dekka glimpse the inside. He snorted as soon as he read the note. 

She recognized the writing to be Carja, but couldn't understand what it said. “Is it from Avad?”

“No, it is from the woman spy.”

“What does it say?”

“It says ‘Not exactly what I meant, but you will do’,” Kotallo said, shaking his head as he folded the note. He tucked it into one of his own leather pouches. “It is nothing—a story for another time perhaps. Have we heard from the Bulwark?” 

Dekka followed Kotallo as he walked up the stairs, noting that he did so slowly, making sure to stand on her left. His hand hung limply by his side, and he was looking ahead, but she knew he was getting ready to assist her if she stumbled. 

It stung her pride, but the healers had assured her this would only be temporary.

“The ritual is done and Commander Kivva is recovering from her wounds. She sends her regrets for not being able to attend today.”

“Kivva. Good,” Kotallo said with an approving nod. “She will make an excellent commander.”

Dekka’s shoulders slumped in relief as she climbed the last step. “I heard that Commander Atekka arrived yesterday.”

“She did. They've completed the expansion of Fall’s Edge and more Lowlanders are in recovery. The additional healers Drakka and Gerrah sent to aid them were invaluable.”

“And the Blood Choke?”

Kotallo shook his head. “They have yet to find the source, but they estimate that it will take another year or two before it reaches the other settlements.” He turned to her, his face determined. “We have time. We will find it.”

He led her around the raised platform where the throne sat, avoiding the additional steps. As they passed, she saw that the chamber beneath the throne was open. It was no secret that Aloy spent a lot of time down there, though no one knew what exactly she was doing, but what truly caught Dekka’s attention was the ornate chief’s headdress resting on the floor next to the entrance to the chamber. 

It had been Hekarro’s, just as the cape strapped to Kotallo’s shoulders had been. Dekka had been ordered to dispose of both when Tekotteh had taken the throne, but she had hidden them away instead, just like Hekarro’s tags. 

Only when she had awoken and heard the news of Kotallo’s victory did she order her grandson to fetch them from her hiding place to be repaired and repainted for the new chief.

That the headdress was on the ground and not on Kotallo’s head was perplexing. Dekka frowned at him and found that he had seen what it was she had been looking at.

He sighed and bent down to pick the headdress up from the ground. He pursed his lips and hefted it in his hand. Sighing again, he placed it on his head, though it tilted to one side when he let it go.

“What is it?”

“It—,” he visibly swallowed. “It is heavier than it looks.”

Dekka softened. He looked just like he did when he had been sent away from the Bulwark to participate in the Kulrut. Young and lost. It seemed so long ago that Kotallo had first come to them, his eyes cold and full of hurt, still wearing the colors of his birth clan. 

She reached up and straightened Kotallo’s headdress, waiting for him to meet her eyes. “You wear it well, Chief,” she said with a firm nod when he finally did.

He huffed, the corners of his mouth lifting. “Thank you, Chaplain.”

The noise outside grew louder, as sudden as an explosion, startling them both. Aloy’s face peeked out from the chamber a moment later. “Is it time?”

“Yes. It seems they are ready,” Dekka said as they watched her climb out. She was wearing the new armor Kotallo had commissioned for her. The bright blue paint made her hair look even redder. 

Her hand reached under her chestplate as she walked towards them and Dekka had the sudden urge to slap it away. She tutted instead. “You will ruin the inker’s hard work.” 

“I don't know how you can stand it,” Aloy said, looking sheepish. But she took her hand out from under her armor and tugged the linen around her chestplate restlessly instead. 

Kotallo smiled fondly at her. “The itching will fade soon.”

Dekka smiled as well, her heart swelling with affection for this young man. She had not known what to make of the blood-haired warrior he had brought with him from the east. But Aloy had fit right in, and her deeds during the rebellion had endeared her to the tribe. 

But as she watched the two smile and laugh together, Dekka realized she would have loved Aloy even if she hadn’t restored the water in the Wound in the Sand or destroyed the Bulwark. 

It was good to see Kotallo happy. And It had been an honor to preside over their bonding ritual.

Even with Aloy leaving ahead soon to be Kotallo’s voice to the east for the war, she knew that the two would be alright. 

As they walked out together, appearing before the hundreds of Tenakth gathered in the Arena, Dekka stared at their new chief from the corner of her eye then glanced at the clear blue sky above them.

Your legacy lives on, Hekarro.

Three clawstriders, two grimhorns, and a leaplasher.

Konakk closed his eyes in an attempt to center himself, but it was impossible. He couldn't even hear himself think over the cheers and shouts. Many had come to witness the Kulrut. The force of their joy and excitement shook the Arena.

The identities of the challengers were no secret. They had all been eager to declare their intention to participate, grinning and boasting. Not Konakk. The other challengers might have seen this as a chance to prove themselves to their tribe, but this was more to him than that. 

Movement caught his eye from above. The chief stepped out, his arm raised high above him.

One arm. The arm that he and others held as Tekotteh took the other. The arm that he and Otta had tied to his waist as they dragged him, wounded and defeated, to Barren Light.

The moment the man had spared his life in that Ten-forsaken place was the moment Konakk had sworn to follow him for the rest of his life. He had originally planned to pledge his blade to the Chief’s Guard, but when the chief called for a Kulrut—

“Tenakth!” 

The noise quieted some as the chief’s voice echoed throughout the Arena. He stood tall on the overlook, looking larger than life itself as he swept his gaze over his people. Konakk found himself holding his breath.

“The Kulrut is upon us! The time to march to Meridian draws near and I call for blades to stand with mine—for new leaders to help clear the path to victory!”

The chief looked to the side and nodded. “Release the quarry!”

Flame-tipped arrows flew from all sides of the Arena, hitting the thick ropes that tied the machines to the ground. The machines quickly scattered, looking up with their glowing red eyes and screeching at the audience above them.

“Challengers, approach!”

Konakk took a deep breath, watching the machines as he weaved his way through the crowd until he was standing side by side with his fellow challengers on one of the smaller overlooks. 

Six machines. Ten challengers. 

“All who take down a machine shall be named Marshal! Remember the Ten!” his chief roared, looking this way—was he looking at Konakk?

“Strike from the air as they did—”

Konakk gripped his spear tightly, standing straighter, bouncing on the balls of his feet. After today, his chief would have his marshals, and by the Ten he was going to be one of them.

“—and seize your glory!”

THE END.