Chapter Ten: Awake

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"Orea."

Clothes drenched, and fingers chilled to the bone, Orea gasped for breath, straining to lift herself from the sand, to find the one calling out to her. She'd never felt this tired before, this spent. Next to her, Aloy stirred as well, hands darting out to grasp handfuls of dirt.

"Orea," the voice repeated, hauntingly familiar. With the last dredges of her strength, the Seeker managed to pull herself up onto her knees, eyes widening as she beheld the face before her.

Rost.

There he was, standing-as if he'd never left. As if he'd never-

"Orea," he called, a single hand outstretched. Orea could've sobbed, if she'd had the energy: what she wouldn't give to have Rost back, to hear his voice one more time.

"Rost," she croaked, reaching her hand out in return. Father. Rost said nothing, gazing at her with the same silent kindness-the same unspoken care-she had taken for granted in the Embrace. "Rost please, I can't do this without you." The only father she'd ever had took a step forward, kneeling down beside her. He said nothing, only placed a weathered hand on her shoulder, the same way he had the first and last time he'd said he loved her-the day he died.

"Rost," she cried, tears pooling in her eyes. "Don't go." Rost shook his head, lips stretching in a smile. He tapped his chest-directly above his heart-before pointing to the same spot near Orea's. I will always be with you.

Orea opened her mouth to reply, but in a flash, Rost was gone, Varl in his place. The Nora was gripping her shoulders and uttering words she could no longer understand. Whatever threads of strength she had left were gone, and the huntress could only stare as her limbs gave out and she went under, the image of Rost still branded firmly in her mind.

. . .

Orea's limbs burned as she awoke, body shooting upwards in a flash, rewarded by a swift stab of pain. Stifling a groan, she clutched at her left arm, silently assessing the damage the machine shot had caused. To her surprise, she found the wound expertly bandaged and coated in a sticky salve of some sort. Where am I?

The huntress studied her surroundings, the memory of her father appearing-and then Varl running to her-rushing forth to the forefront of her mind. Somehow, Varl had tracked them down, and Orea had to admit, he couldn't have found them at a better time.

Now the huntress was in a hut of some kind, lying on a soft mattress crafted from hundreds of interwoven leaves, her sister still asleep opposite her. Judging by the steady stream of light filtering into the shack, it was daytime, and Orea could faintly make out the telltale buzz of chatter. Wherever Varl had taken them, it was decently populated: maybe a village of some sort? But which tribe? The design of the hut didn't seem to scream Tenakth based on the aesthetic Orea had observed in Regalla's camps, nor was it any recognizable Carja or Oseram design. Maybe the Utaru? It was a valid guess, giving the almost excessive amount of plant life used in the structure.

Satisfied that she at least possessed a basic knowledge of where she was, Orea scooted back to lean against the wall, mind filled with images of the fight at Latopolis. Who were the people that had attacked them? They were unlike anything Orea had ever seen, far more technologically advanced than any tribe she had encountered thus far. Even more than that, they had seemed so...merciless. Death seemed little more than entertainment to them, if their absolute willingness to dispose of Aloy and her was anything to go by. I hate to admit it, but if we'd had to fight that Erik guy any longer, we would've died. We were lucky to escape with our lives.

Most terrifyingly of all however, they'd had another clone of Elisabet Sobeck, a genetic sister to Aloy. How their attackers had gained Sobeck's DNA, Orea had no idea; she couldn't even begin to guess. If they have Sobeck's DNA, they can rebuild GAIA-but I doubt they want to use her for anything good. Orea had a feeling the battle at Latopolis wasn't the last time her sister and she would face off against the intruders, not by a long shot.

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