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The Drift
“So what’s next for Erend Vanguardsman?”
He was surprised she asked. The great Annointed one, the savior of Meridian, wants to know what he’ll be doing? He didn’t let the moment pass, and gave her a soft smile. She’d already warmed him up with her encouraging words, and for a moment he almost forgot he was itching to drop by Dervahl’s cell and pay him a visit. “I’ll be heading back to the Claim,” he told her, decisively. Ersa took priority. “I’ll get in touch with my clan, we’ll put Ersa to rest properly. Like how she would have wanted. And by that I mean less chit-chat, more drinking.” He knew she disliked the concept of drinking, but it was the truth.
For a moment they stood in silence, and he tried to break it by emitting a sniff. “Well,” Aloy breathed. He knew she was about to leave. His chest ached at the thought of not seeing her again. She’d become such a welcome sight around the city, and he could remember just how happy he was to see her when she arrived in Meridian for the first time. Now, she was leaving again, off to do greater things than talk to him.
“Yeah, I know. You’ve got to go. Killers to track, machines to master – all before breakfast.” He took a deep breath, putting together his confession before it hit his lips. He felt he owed her almost an apology for the way he spoke when they first met, back at the Proving, when he called her home a “backwater”. “You know what? When we first met, I thought I was a big shot talking to a pretty girl hidden away in the middle of nowhere. Now I see that I was just lucky to get a minute of your time.” He chuckled at himself, at the almost painful truth. “Try not to forget about me while you’re out saving the world.”
She didn’t miss a beat, staring up at him, her eyes wide. He loved how open she always looked, as if not a single person in her life had ever lied to her. “I’ll always have a minute for you, Erend.” Did he catch a blush? “Maybe even two?”
He barked a laugh, a mixture of surprise and pleasure. “Two! Ha, she likes me,” he said fondly. She turned away then, as if he’d caught her in something. “Aloy. If… if you end up heading that way, drop by. We’ll be heading Northwest. It’ll be cold this time of year but… I think…” He rubbed the back of his head. She’d stopped, watching him intently, waiting for him to ask. “Well. I never got to introduce you to Ersa, but at her funeral will be plenty of stories. It’ll be the next best thing…”
She cracked a smile. “I’ll try my best,” she promised. Then she was off like a bird who’d stopped briefly on the balcony and stayed long enough to be admired before fluttering off. He watched her go, he couldn’t help it. He could feel reality begin to creep in, as if she were a light holding the shadows at bay. Ersa was dead, and her killer was only yards away. The leather of Erend’s glove creaked when he tightened his grip on his hammer. It was time to pay him a visit.
Meridian was nice, but the snow reminded him of home. His Vanguard had been somewhat envious of his journey, and he wasn’t able to drag any of them back to the Claim with him. They remained with Avad, where they belonged. Besides, he needed the alone time to think.
He wasn’t truly alone, after all. The wagon he drew behind him held the body of his sister, ceremoniously garbed by the Carja priests, but ensconced in a wooden box for the pyre at the Claim. She would have missed seeing the snow, Erend knew. She always said it cooled her fire. He and Ersa had made this trip many times, though the conversation was usually less one-sided. He told her about Aloy, about all the things he felt he needed to, about what horrible things were going to happen to Dervahl for his deeds.
Three days into the journey, and he had to scrape snow from the casket and wagon. It was getting harder to see, but he knew the landmarks. He was thankful for his armor, though it was less fun to deal with the melted snow in the leather at night, it kept him warm during the day. He knew how to use the campfires to his advantage, making sure everything was dry before the next morning.
It was rather boring, slow going, until the Claim was within a day’s walk. He decided to make camp one more time, though his pace quickened at the thought of a roof over his head and friendly faces to talk to. He selected a spot in the lee of a large boulder, or perhaps a remnant of ruin, it was so hard to see in the darkening light. He checked the canvas over Ersa’s wagon, setting up his tent in a lean-to configuration in order to start a fire beneath it. He tugged tinder and dry wood from where he’d kept it hidden under the tarp and got a merry blaze alight. He sighed as he watched the snowflakes that were blown in fizzle in the heat.
He saw the blue light before he dozed off, his hand creeping towards his hammer as soon as it flashed across his face. If he held still, the machines usually didn’t bother him, but those who did he had no trouble dispatching. So when the light came closer, a beeline for his tent, his curiosity was piqued.
“Erend?” He heard a familiar voice call. It explained everything. His heart leapt into his throat as he dropped his hammer, surging out of the tent and into the crisp, prickling snow.
“Aloy! You came!”
She leapt down off of the Strider she was using for transport, leaving it to wander aimlessly nearby. Bedecked in her Banuk furs, she looked like a silvery vixen padding through the snow towards him. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He wanted to hug her, but she stopped only a few feet from him, pulling down her scarf to eyeball him critically. Suddenly he was all too aware that his armor was drying inside of his tent and the wind whipped his light cotton undershirt around his rapidly cooling form.
“Can we talk in the tent? You might freeze,” she teased, and he gestured her inside. It was a little cramped, but he dismantled the setup of sticks he used to dry out his armor on, giving her more room. She sighed with relief, taking off her gloves and putting them up to thaw near the fire. She shrugged off her overcoat, and he smiled as he watched the snowflakes melt in her hair.
She shifted uncomfortably. “You’re staring,” she observed in a small voice.
He immediately looked away, raking a hand through his wet hair. “Sorry. Just been a few days since I’ve seen another person. Everyone’s taking shelter from the storm. There’s no emergency right? Everyone’s okay?”
The Nora lifted a shoulder and shrugged. “I was headed this way, then I ran across your tracks. You’re… alone again.” He remembered how surprised she was when he wanted to meet her alone to track down the men who’d ambushed Ersa. He smiled a little wistfully.
“Yeah. Just me and Ersa. And… well... you, now.” A thought suddenly came to him. “Oh, hey. You hungry?” He didn’t wait for an answer, digging through his pack. He’d brought plenty of food, and with the Claim so close he was happy to dig into his stores. “I got cheese, hard Oseram bread, carrots, jerky…” When he looked back, she was shrugging out of another layer of clothes. She had barely spoken since she’d arrived, but he hoped she was just cold. “Here.” He placed the food on the blanket next to her and took her hands, rubbing them in his own. “See? Not so bad.”
She immediately jerked her hands away from his, her face red. He held his up in defense, sobering. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Eat, please. It’s just good to see you.”
He turned from her then, cursing at himself mentally. She was barely a woman, fresh out of the wilderness, barely touched by anyone not trying to kill her. He busied himself with rearranging his armor, testing the more damp spots. It’d be cold to wear tomorrow, but refreshing at least.
She was sitting with her arms around her knees, watching him. “I want to come to Ersa’s funeral,” she finally said, eye flickering to the fire. He nodded, trying not to let it be obvious how happy he was to hear that. “But…”
“The Claim’s just another day or so walk, if the storm lets up,” he promised her. “Though you could probably ride ahead, get there a lot faster.”
“I can’t. I have to meet someone to the west. There’s no time.” His heart fell, but he kept his disappointment out of his voice.
“Yes… of course. I’ll miss you there. Oseram funerals aren’t a thing to forget. That’s the point.” He saw she wasn’t eating, so he helped himself to some of the bread and cheese. “Do you have a tent? I can help you set it up. Just let me get my armor back on.”
He saw her glance back out into the cold. “I…” She quickly looked around. “I’m sorry. Can I stay here? I don’t take up much space.”
He snorted with laughter. The savior of the world was shy. Instantly, she clammed up again, and he held up a hand. “Yes… yes you can stay. I’ll even give you the bedroll. I’ll even shut up. Deal?” He scooted around the fire, away from the bedroll. She even chuckled, and he was glad to hear she was beginning to relax. He arranged his armor to form a pillow, something he was used to doing, and stretched out on his back, leaving her to her own devices.
He heard her rummage for a few minutes and was satisfied to hear her chewing on the jerky he’d given her. It was so quiet… he wondered if it was something she preferred, traveling alone so often. He ached to talk, to hear her talk, but at the same time the crackling of the fire dampened by the heavy snow seemed more right. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
He had begun dozing off when she spoke. The voice came from low on the ground: she was laying down. “Tell me more about Ersa,” she said quietly. He masked his surprise at her desire for conversation, instead focusing on his memories. He didn’t open his eyes while he told the story of his sister.
He spoke late into the night, sure the droning of his voice had already lulled his tent partner to sleep, but he kept remembering more and more stories. Funny ones, sad ones, reasons why Ersa was so loved. It was when he realized he was about to tell the same story over that he paused, his voice having dropped to a murmur anyway. The fire had banked itself, and the snow had built up around the tent enough to make it comfortably warm. It was so peaceful. Was this Ersa’s gift to him? Peace?
He jerked when he felt a hand on his, eyes snapping open to make out Aloy’s figure in the dark. She was wrapped in his blanket, which she opened and threw over him. Without a word she curled up at his side, her arm spanning his chest, and with all her strength she squeezed him in a hug. His breath hitched with a lump in his throat... he hadn’t realized just how little he reminisced about Ersa, not while sober at least. It was unfair to the woman, and he was glad Aloy gave him a chance to get it out.
He heaved a mighty sigh to lessen the pain, to dampen the pinpricks he felt in his eyes. “Thanks,” he told her.
“For what?” she asked him, resting her cheek on his chest, as if she were listening to his heartbeat.
“For stopping. For seeing me. For being here,” he told her. “Sometimes I dunno how you do it. You must not get lonely.”
It was her time to chuckle. “You have no idea. I lost the closest thing I had to family thanks to my desire to not be lonely, to be part of something bigger. Sometimes… it’s for the best.”
He reached up, experimentally dragging a hand through her hair. “I don’t think so,” he told her. “After all, you did ride through a snowstorm just to see me.”
She pinched him for teasing her, and he twitched away with a wince for her benefit. “Be nice, or I’ll banish you back to the bedroll,” he threatened. Not a chance in the world, he knew.
She sighed and placed her head back on his chest, but then seemed uncomfortable and twisted away from him, resting her back against his side. She used his arm for a pillow, sharing the blanket with him, and he itched to curl up behind her, her back against his chest. That would be risky, he concluded, and decided that whatever contact she wanted with him, she would decide. She was like a wild animal who had never seen a human before, and it intrigued him. He just didn’t want her to leave.
She slept there, next to him, while he remained awake, cursing the sun as it began to rise, willing it to disappear once more. He allowed himself to doze, on the edge of sleep, aware of every movement Aloy made. She didn’t move much, despite the fact she would have to be a light sleeper, but when the sun hit them, she finally stirred.
He watched her, basking in all the details he’d missed in the darkness the night before. Her freckles, the sun turning her hair gold, the gentle arch of her eyebrows as she looked at him, seeing him already awake. She sat up, almost apologetically.
“Can you still feel your arm?” She asked, swiping her hair back from her face.
“No,” he admitted. “But that’s alright. I have another.” He smiled, as if hoping his humor could somehow change her mind about leaving.
“Thank you for letting me stay. I… I’ve gotta go.” She moved quickly, gathering her things and shrugging on her heavy fur layers. He watched her, grinding his teeth.
“Will I ever see you again?” His voice was low, melancholy. He feared the answer.
She began to duck out of the tent, letting in a shaft of sunlight, the harsh glare of it on white snow. The even harsher reality that she was leaving the comfortable, warm dream that was inside his tent. But she smiled, and it warmed him.
“I promised,” she reminded him. “I’ll always have time for you.”
And then she was gone.