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i. come in from the cold
To say Aloy’s journey back from the desert has been eventful would be an understatement. Between the broken pullcaster (and subsequent bruising), the Thunderjaw terrorizing Salt Bite, and the bandit raid on Bleeding Mark, the past few days have generally been a bad time.
So much so that when Kotallo calls to tell her there’s a heating malfunction at the Base, she can’t keep the resignation from her voice. He doesn’t ask about it, thankfully, but he does tell her she shouldn’t worry herself about it, that Beta and GAIA are working out a solution as they speak.
On the plus side, his journey to the Lowlands was fruitful, he says, so at least Aloy has that thought to cheer her up as she begins her ascent to the Base’s western entrance.
By the time she scales the last cliff—no thanks to that stupid broken pullcaster—her fingers are stiff and her face is numb. And the Base won’t even be able to warm her up.
She sighs. The universe is obviously conspiring against her.
But then the doors slide open before she even reaches them, and there Kotallo stands, and any additional uncharitable thoughts she’d been thinking about the cosmic order of things promptly vanish.
“Aloy. Here,” he says, placing a mug of something hot into her hands and guiding her inside with a gentle hand on her back. When he drapes a blanket over her shoulders, all she wants is to lean into him and share in his warmth.
Her face heats up at the thought. Where on earth had that come from?
He doesn’t seem to notice her flush, thankfully—probably because the chill has already brought the rosiness to her cheeks—but she takes a sip of the drink to cover it up anyway, and very nearly melts into the couch cushions.
Whatever it is, it’s smooth and rich, sweet but not cloying, with the barest hint of tempered bitterness. And it is delicious.
“What is this?” she asks, glancing at him over the rim of the mug and humming with contentment as it warms her from the inside out.
His proud smile lights up his face. “It’s a beverage made with something called ‘chocolate,’” he says, his voice taking on that utterly charming inflection it gets when he’s excited to share something he’s learned. “Which is made from the interior pit of the fruit of a cacao tree. I read about it in your data files, and heard about the trees from one of Beta’s holo shows. I remembered seeing them growing in the Lowlands and retrieved some while I was there.”
“It’s so good,” Aloy murmurs, suddenly feeling shy and averting her gaze as he smiles fondly.
“I am glad.”
And, that? Aloy’s heart has no idea what to do about that. “So,” she says, taking a loud sip and not even feeling self-conscious about it. “Watching holos with Beta in your free time, huh?”
“I thought it would be a good idea to get to know her better, since she is your sister.”
“That’s really sweet, Kotallo.”
When his smile deepens, it’s not only the chocolate that’s going to have her melting into the cushions. “I have my moments,” he says.
ii. rime & reason
Two days into the heating crisis, Aloy drags her fingers through the frost riming the workbench surface and frowns. Beta had rigged up a temporary fix and then left with Alva to find parts, but it quit not long after they left.
At least it’s not windy in here.
For the first time in her memory, Aloy is alone inside the base. Zo is in Plainsong for a winter festival, Erend is on his way back from his trip to Meridian, Sylens is off doing whatever Sylens does, and Kotallo is up top, fighting Sunwings despite the frigid temperatures.
Or he had been, just a few moments ago. The doors open, and Kotallo strides in along with a gust of cold air that gives Aloy goosebumps.
“Aloy,” he says, stopping short at the door to the workshop like he’s startled to see her. “I didn’t realize you were still around.”
“Just fixing this,” she says, holding up the broken pullcaster. “And I’m taking a few days off traveling.”
“Good,” Kotallo says with a resolute nod, taking off his metal arm and setting it on the counter next to him. “This cold is much easier to tolerate with you here.”
Aloy nearly fumbles her screwdriver. “Um,” she says, intelligently. She should be used to his casual compliments, but lately, they’ve done nothing but fluster her.
She must be staring—he takes a half-step back. “You’re busy. I’ll come back later.”
“No!” she blurts out, and this time, the screwdriver nearly goes flying across the room. She sets it down. “No. Here.” She scoots her things to the side and steps away with a flourish. “All yours. I’ll finish with this tonight.”
“If you’re sure…?”
“Yeah,” she says hastily. “I’m sure. I’ll, um, work on some things at the fabrication terminal. If you don’t mind the company.”
He quirks an eyebrow at her, half-incredulous and half-amused. “I never mind your company.”
“Right,” she breathes, and promptly sequesters herself with her project so she doesn’t have to think about why her stomach is twisting in knots.
He catches her looking at him once or twice, but merely smiles and returns to his own tinkering, and by the time he finishes whatever he’s doing half an hour later, her heart rate has mostly settled down. Mostly.
“Would you mind helping me with this?” he says from way closer than she’s expecting.
She spins on her heel to find him holding some kind of leather… thing.
“It’s to cushion my skin against the metal,” he explains as she takes it and stares at it. “It gets cold.”
“Sounds like an understatement,” she says, trying to work out how to orient the thing. It appears to have an intricate tie system to hold it in place. “Will this be practical? If you’re out there by yourself, I mean.”
“I’ll build a more efficient brace later. First, I want to test that it does the job.”
Seems reasonable. When she finally figures out which way the brace goes, she looks up to find him watching her expectantly. Right. She’s gotta help him put it on.
Swallowing thickly, she steps into his space and fits it over his left shoulder, about where the metal would be resting against his skin. Somehow, despite the chill in the Base, he’s so… warm. “Like this?” she asks at length when she realizes he’s watching her.
“Yes,” he says. “Hold it there.” His right arm brushes hers as he fits the prosthetic into place, the simple touch jolting through her like a zap of static, except a lot more confusing. “Perfect.” Then, a few moments later, “Thank you, Aloy.”
She snatches her hand away and offers him a tight but genuine smile. “Happy to help. Any time.”
And there’s that same smile of his again, the one that makes her knees weak and makes her feel like she’s about to melt onto the floor.
“I’ll take you up on that,” he says.
“Promise?” she says before she can think better of it. If her heart had calmed down before, now it hammers like it’s threatening to escape her ribcage. She laughs it off, but the way his eyes stay on her as she turns back to her work…
Well, she’s certainly not getting any work done while he’s around, that’s for sure. “I’m… going to go check over the guest quarters, make sure everything’s in order for our… guests,” she says after staring at override data for all of five minutes.
Morlund had contacted her via Focus a few days ago—Hidden Ember is undergoing repairs after Delah and Boomer’s latest mishap, he’d said, and Stemmur wants to chat with the delvers in Camp Nowhere. “Always in search of a good story, that man,” the tinker had said with a fond chuckle. And, he’d added, they’ve been wanting to see the Base, and would Aloy have room to put up three Showmen for a few days? They’ll even put on a show for her and the crew.
Of course she’d said yes.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Kotallo replies without looking up from where he’s making some adjustments to the arm.
She won’t, but she appreciates the gesture anyway.
iii. full of sound and flurries
“And so the spear-maiden greeted the weary travelers from atop her lofty abode,” Stemmur says as he lugs the cart up the last part of the hill, eyes sparkling as he shields them from falling snow.
“You made it!” Aloy calls, grinning, from the top of the cliff outside the Base.
“And in one piece, miraculously,” Abadund says.
“That means safe travels, I hope?”
“Ahhh, nothing we couldn’t handle,” Morlund says, putting down his kit and scaling the cliff with ease. He lies flat on his belly to reach for the first of the boxes from their cart as Stemmur passes it up to him. “No more Tiderippers in the desert, thankfully.”
Aloy laughs. “Yeah, I’m hoping that was a one-time deal.” She takes the box and sets it by the door while Abadund climbs up to assist.
“This place could really use a pulley system,” he mutters. “Or stairs.”
With a great heave, Morlund swings one of the boxes up onto the ledge, using his elbows as a fulcrum. “And are you offering to build it for her?”
Abadund rolls his eyes. “Don’t put words in my mouth,” he says. “That’s Stemmur’s job.”
“I’m just giving him a break. The man is tired, didn’t you hear him?”
“We’re all tired.”
The banter continues as they get the rest of their gear up top, with Stemmur leaving his cart with the hunter at the nearby campfire before returning to them.
“They’re here,” Aloy calls down the hall as they enter the base. She turns back to them. “Your timing’s impeccable—my sister just got the heating working again this morning. Might still be a little cold in there, though.”
“The Showmen would not be deterred from their visit by a mere chill,” Stemmur says. “Especially when it would be a relief after the scorching desert heat and dusty winds.”
Once they’ve had a bite to eat and a chance to rest, Aloy shows the three of them up to the command center so they can set up their show with Kotallo’s help. Erend should be arriving any moment now—with Talanah in tow, apparently.
Zo will be sad she missed this, but the boys might do an encore when she arrives in a couple nights’ time, if Aloy asks really nicely.
The rest of the crew arrives piecemeal: Beta and Alva from downstairs, Erend and Talanah from the east entrance, and even Sylens, though he sequesters himself in the workshop. Big surprise.
“Psst, Aloy, can you dim the lights?” Morlund whispers via Focus from the other side of a makeshift curtain.
The lights go down—that’ll be GAIA—and Kotallo slides into the open spot next to Aloy.
He leans in. “This should be interesting,” he murmurs as the curtain rises and Morlund strides out into the center of the makeshift stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he bellows, “showgoers of all persuasions, it is my pleasure to present to you… The Showmen: Journey through the Desert.” He shuffles offstage as the lights go dark, and then a spotlight clicks on to illuminate Stemmur standing center stage.
“I helped with that,” Kotallo whispers as Stemmur dramatically saunters forward. “Connected them to the Base’s power grid. The excitable one was…”
“Excited?”
“Mm.”
Their attention snaps forward as Stemmur weaves together the first strands of his tale, accompanied by Morlund’s lightshow. The wordsmith details the sisters’ fateful experiment that had temporarily put them all out of a home, and somehow, manages to make the uneventful first day of their trek sound captivating.
Aloy almost forgets anyone else is in the room, leaning forward on the edge of her seat when the Showmen-in-tale are ambushed by a Skydrifter and find themselves standing off against it and the Bristlebacks that come to investigate. She cheers with the rest of her friends as the Showmen come out the victors, feels a pang of sadness when the storyteller laments the loss of Morlund’s latest prototype—which he’d been excited to show off on this very evening—to a nasty sand vortex.
When they reach Camp Nowhere, the lights come up and Stemmur announces a short ale intermission while the spectacles are prepared.
“I’ll be right back,” Kotallo murmurs, placing a hand on Aloy’s shoulder gently. He smiles when she looks up at him, nodding toward the curtain. Right. Of course he’d been recruited to help with the second act, too.
When everyone settles back into their seats and the lights once again go dim, Kotallo returns with a blanket draped over his arm and two mugs of Delver’s Ruin, a light and incredibly drinkable ale (hence the name) Erend had brought back from his trip.
“Here,” Kotallo says, handing her the mugs and spreading the blanket out over their laps. “I’ve been told a wordsmith’s story is best enjoyed in warmth, ale, and good company. And now I have all three.”
Aloy’s cheeks flood with heat again, her plight worsened when Morlund catches her eye from the stage and gives her a wink and a thumbs-up. “Thanks,” she breathes, gaze sliding back to Kotallo. “This is… nice.”
Kotallo’s eyes crinkle with contentment and he settles back against the cushions, close enough that Aloy can feel the warmth of his proximity.
It is getting cold in here, but if she happens to tuck her legs under herself in a way that makes her lean against him? Total coincidence. Nothing more.
iv. ignorance is blizzard
“I think my ears might be ringing still,” Aloy says as she and Kotallo trudge up a mountain on their way to Stone Crest.
Turns out Abadund really did plan on building a rope and pulley system for the Base. One message to Camp Nowhere later and a whole crew had arrived, hammers in hand and ready to be pointed at the nearest project.
Even Kotallo couldn’t escape the noise, the rhythmic clanging of hammers ringing clear and crisp in the air all the way up to the Sunwing nest. He’d arrived at her bedroom on the morning of day three with an invitation to go machine hunting with him. She’d have accepted even if there weren’t two dozen Oseram making a racket, but it was nice to have an excuse to spend time with Kotallo.
When the two of them left, bright scaffolding lined the cliff and one of the new winches was already in operation. At this rate, they’ll be done by the time she and Kotallo return.
An especially chilly gust of wind has Aloy wrapping herself even tighter in her furs. It won’t be long before they’ll walk through the first skiffs of snow at the lower edges of the snow caps on the peaks, but it’s been cold a lot longer than that.
She manages to keep a lid on her discomfort until they’re ankle-deep in snow, with more falling all around them. She gives in and tucks her fingers under her armpits. Maybe they’ll thaw out a little that way; it wouldn’t do her any good trying to take down machines with stiff fingers.
“Here,” Kotallo says, holding out a packet wrapped neatly in a piece of scrap fabric and tied with hemp cord.
“What’s this?”
“Something I think you could use right about now,” he says with a cryptic arch of an eyebrow as he keeps walking.
She jogs to catch up, pulling at the cord. She isn’t one for gifts, but Kotallo has the same practical sense as she does and she is delighted to find a beautiful pair of fur-lined, tanned leather gloves inside. They aren’t of Tenakth make; Kotallo must have traded for them. Aloy wastes no time putting them on.
Kotallo’s own hand is clad in a glove of similar make, she realizes. “How do they fit?” he asks.
“Like a… well, like a glove,” Aloy laughs. “They’re so flexible, I think I might even be able to use my bow with them on.”
A quietly satisfied smile settles on his face. “That was the idea.”
“Thank you, Kotallo. That’s really thoughtful.”
“I’ve come to appreciate the value of good protection from the cold.” They both look at the leather brace under his prosthetic. “I noticed your old gloves had worn out.”
Aloy nearly stops in her tracks. Kotallo says it so calmly, like it’s no big deal that he would remember such a minor detail and then go out of his way to remedy it like that. And to him, it probably isn’t. So she keeps pace with him into the depths of the snow.
They’re not far from Snow Crest when they lose sight of each other in the heavy snowfall. Thank goodness for GAIA’s ability to locate each of their crew anywhere on the globe if need be; Aloy lets the AI guide her footsteps to Kotallo’s position further up the trail.
“Here. Strap this to your wrist,” Kotallo says, handing her one end of a length of cord he has already tightened around his own wrist. “So we don’t get separated again while we look for shelter.”
He’d used one of the shorter pieces in his kit, one that wouldn’t give them much leeway to wander more than a couple feet away, if that. He loops the slack around his arm as they walk until, at last, they reach a shelter.
The sharply angled roof barely peeks out over the snow drifts. More than a little buried, then. They work up a good sweat by the time they clear the snow enough to tumble inside. Vents along the underside of the cover allow just enough airflow for it not to be stuffy, but those might soon be buried with the way the snow’s falling.
“There was a blizzard like this when Penttoh did the March of the Ten. I glided from the peak and couldn’t see anything most of the way down.”
“It is a treacherous climb,” Kotallo agrees. “Which makes it the perfect rite of passage for Sky Clan soldiers.”
Aloy slides the gloves off but keeps them in her lap. “Face the March and you can face anything, is that it?”
“Indeed.”
The space is small and cozy, with just enough room for the two of them to spread out their bedrolls and lie down, should they decide to stick around. GAIA informs them the blizzard won’t be particularly long or treacherous according to AETHER’s forecast, but that it would still be a good idea to lie low until it passes.
GAIA hasn’t steered her wrong yet, so Aloy opts to follow that advice, and Kotallo, of course, follows his commander’s lead.
“What other rituals does the Sky Clan have?” Aloy asks as they break into their trail rations. “Like, the Desert and Lowland Tenakth have their own rites of passage, but they also have protocols for choosing new commanders.”
“Tekotteh has been commander my entire life, but it is similar. A command hopeful must defeat any and all challengers in single combat, and if the current commander is still alive, they will face them last.”
“When the commander is strong and the challenger is weak and tired?”
“Yes.”
“So it’s a test of endurance.”
“Essentially.” Kotallo hands her a slice of the jerky she likes and she takes it, gnawing it thoughtfully. “Aside from that, courtship rituals tend to be a big deal toward the end of the summer months.”
Aloy definitely does not choke on her jerky. She even manages to make an interested noise that happens to cover any sounds that might be construed as coughing or sputtering. “That’s usually when the Nora have theirs, too, or so I heard. I… never got to see anything when I was among the tribe. What do the Sky Tenakth do?”
“Usually it involves an interested person performing acts of service for the person they are interested in. They often spar or go on hunts together, give gifts.” Kotallo pauses. “Of course, in the past, those gifts would often be the heads of the recipient’s enemies.”
Yeah, that tracks. “And now?” she asks.
“Something practical, usually, though in some settlements the gifts include things like jewelry and murals boasting their accomplishments. But usually it’ll be a garment, custom armour, a weapon.”
Aloy smiles to herself. She has been gifted all of those things in one form or another, but none of it was for courtship reasons. Well, Avad’s might have been a little, but he had other reasons, too. But that was about it.
“There’s usually a public declaration of acceptance at some point, if the person reciprocates.”
It’s hard to tell in the dark, but it feels like Kotallo’s looking at her. She tucks her knees up under her chin and runs her thumb along the soft fur on the cuff of the glove, trying to figure out why her face feels so warm all of a sudden.
v. cracked and crushed, frozen and flushed
It’s not like Aloy doesn’t know how to dress for the cold. She has furs, she has layers. She even has a nice new pair of gloves thanks to Kotallo. She’s wearing them right now, even, and she carries them with her all the time when it’s not cold.
So, no, it’s not that she doesn’t have the right gear, as Zo seems to be insinuating via Focus call from her plush, cozy little apartment in Plainsong.
“I’m from the mountains, Zo. I grew up with this sort of weather. It’s just that this cold feels extra harsh because of all the wind up here.”
It is a particularly windy day, too. Puffs of snow keep flying off the top of drifts. Loose hair keeps whipping around her face. She’s lost feeling in her cheeks.
“I wish I could help, Aloy. Maybe you can pick up some balm from the healer next time you stop by?”
“Yeah, I’ll have to do that.” Whenever that’ll be, Aloy guiltily thinks. It’s been a while since she last visited Zo in her own home. Hell, she hasn’t even stopped back at the Base in ages. It’s been at least a month now. After returning from her hunt with Kotallo, Sylens had sent her out on what had felt like a wild goose chase for the first week and a half: Apparently he’d found the location of an Old Ones fabrication plant that would allow them to make more Focuses.
The prospect of not having to ration the stash she got from ELEUTHIA-9 was too appealing to pass up.
Unfortunately, the journey had taken her through some of the worst geography the west had to offer. Hence the bitter cold, and all.
She does eventually find it, but it’s buried so deep within its home ruin that it’ll take a whole team of Oseram weeks to dig it out. Erend tells her he’s on it before she can even ask, so that’s nice, at least. When she asks him how he’s paying all these workers for everything they’ve done, including the sophisticated pulley system at the Base, he deflects.
“It’s Avad, isn’t it,” she deadpans.
“He told me not to tell you, so you absolutely didn’t hear it from me,” Erend replies. “But the Sun Court’s coffers are overflowing these days without a war to bleed off the excess, so he’s happy to do it. For the greater good and for you.”
“At least he’s doing it for mostly the right reasons.”
“What can I say? You inspire loyalty in people. Speaking of, you planning on coming back to the Base any time soon?”
“...Why do you ask.”
“Oh, no reason in particular. Just that Kotallo’s been…” There’s a muffled thumping sound.
“He’s been what? …Erend?” The line hasn’t gone dead, but Aloy is beginning to doubt that fact when her friend finally speaks again.
“Sorry, sorry,” he says, voice strained. “As I was saying, no reason in particular. We just miss your face, that’s all.”
“Are you okay? You sound like you’re in pain.”
“I, uh, knocked something off the table. Yeah. Onto my foot. You know me, big klutz. Ha.”
Had Kotallo overheard the conversation? What was Erend about to say? Whatever it was, she wasn’t going to find out until later.
“Right. Well. Until this thing gets dug out, there’s nothing I can do with it. I can come home for a bit.”
“Great! We’ll, ya know, lay out the welcome mat. Make sure it’s nice ‘n’ warm in here for ya.”
“Thanks, Erend.”
By the time Aloy makes it back to the Base, her face has long since gained feeling again. But her skin is dry and cracked, her lips chapped, and there’s maaaybe a small touch of sunburn on her cheeks. It might have been windy, but the sun had been shining and reflecting off the snow. (Fine, maybe Zo had been right; she could probably use some sort of face covering next time she was out like this. Consider it duly noted.)
Everyone greets her with varying levels of enthusiasm as she enters. That’s not to say that any of them are less than enthusiastic; some of them are simply engrossed in their work (namely, Beta and Alva, who do emerge from the data room later on to give her a proper hello). As for the guys, Erend picks Aloy up in a great big hug and excitedly tells her that he finally won a game of Machine Strike against Kotallo, and Kotallo, who had been sitting and staring at the board with consternation, instantly lights up when she rounds the corner and sees him.
“Sylens wouldn’t tell us where you were going, at first,” Erend says. “You shoulda seen it. Kotallo almost pinned him to the wall to get the answer from him. The bastard was sarcastic as usual, but I could tell he was sweating a little.”
“I did not almost pin him to the wall,” Kotallo says as he settles back into his spot around the board, scooting over to offer Aloy a place to sit. “I simply implied I could sharpen my blade enough to pierce both clothing and metal. He did not remain smug for long when I proved this to be the case.”
Aloy shook her head fondly. “You know, you could have just asked me. In fact, I’m not sure why neither of you mentioned it all those times we spoke while I was gone.”
“Oh, we already knew where you were going,” Erend says. “GAIA told us.”
“You guys are mean,” Aloy says, her words belied by a huge grin.
Erend snorts. “Maybe. But you can’t say he doesn’t deserve it.”
Later, once Erend wanders off to give Avad another update via Focus, Kotallo beckons for Aloy to follow him to the dorms.
“I visited Plainsong while you were away. Zo sent this for you.” He rummages in his supply bag and produces a small jar of balm held between his fingers. Thumbing open the lid, he searches her face and tilts his head. “May I?”
“Sure,” she breathes.
Placing the open jar on the shelf next to them, he dips in his thumb and brings it to Aloy’s mouth. “Open a little,” he murmurs, and she does.
She contains her gasp—barely—when he swipes the balm over her lower lip, his fingers curved under her chin to hold her steady. His eyes never leave hers. She swallows thickly. Her gaze drops to his mouth, flicks back up to his eyes, and widens as he traces her top lip with his finger.
“There,” he says, leaning back just as Aloy thinks she might lean in and kiss him. “Zo said morning and night would be best.” He closes the lid, places the jar in her hand.
Her heart hammers in her chest. “Thank you,” she says, catching the brief-but-noticeable way his eyes fall to her mouth too. Should she…? Of course, that’s the moment her sister and Alva choose to burst in to the (open) dorms and give her that proper hello they’d promised earlier.
But it hadn’t been her imagination, had it? That Kotallo had leaned in too? No, of course it was.
She doesn’t find out one way or the other; he dismisses himself back to the common room and leaves the three women to catch up after Aloy’s almost two months away.
vi. blade in the snow
“Those gloves are nice. Where’d you get them?” Kivva asks as she and Aloy sit on a rocky outcrop overlooking the Bulwark.
“Oh, um. Kotallo gave them to me when my old pair wore out.”
“Kotallo gave them to you?”
Aloy finishes working the knot on her bowstring into place and tests the tension. “Why’s that such a surprise?”
“Huh. He didn’t tell me it was you he was courting.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Kivva’s eyebrows nearly reach her hairline. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”
“Kivva. What are you talking about? What do you mean, ‘courting?’”
“He never was very good at being direct,” Kivva sighs with an exaggerated shake of her head. She takes a deep breath and turns back to Aloy. “You’re an outlander, so obviously you wouldn’t know our customs, but yes, Kotallo is courting you.”
“I—he, um, he did tell me about the, uh, Sky Clan courting traditions, actually,” Aloy says, intensely interested in her bow all of a sudden as the realization finally clicks into place: Kotallo has been courting her all this time. It’s so obvious now that she thinks about it—the hot chocolate, the way he sits so close to her. The machine hunt. The lip balm. She’s just been too dense to figure it out. She hides her face from Kivva’s amusement. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize it,” she groans into her hands.
“Do you need a moment?”
“No,” Aloy says, also into her hands. She drops them from her face and blows out a cloud of vapour. “Maybe. Um. He mentioned something about a public declaration…?”
***
Aloy flexes her gloved fingers around the handle of her blade. Kotallo will arrive soon for his ‘hunt’ with Kivva and a few other Bulwark soldiers; all she has left to do is wait.
“Are you nervous?” asks Gerrah, who, along with Kivva, had gleefully conspired with Aloy to make this happen. She and Aloy have been waiting in her quarters for the last hour while Aloy goes over the customs again and again. They’re not complex by any stretch of the imagination, but she wants to get it right. She wants Kotallo to understand that she knows exactly what she’s doing.
“Wouldn’t you be?”
Gerrah shrugs. “At least you didn’t have to initiate this courtship.”
Before Aloy can reply, a soldier pokes his head in and announces, “He’s here.”
So the Chaplain leads Aloy out, their arrival masked by the hunting party at the base of the elevator greeting their old comrade. Tekotteh had taken his entourage out on a machine hunt at Gerrah’s suggestion so his scoffing presence wouldn’t be here to ruin the occasion. (Aloy had been surprised that it worked; Gerrah countered by telling her that Tekotteh needs little convincing to take leisure time these days.)
Only Kivva and Gerrah know the real reason for asking Kotallo here. The rest of the soldiers are just happy at the prospect of hunting with their friend. Nonetheless, the small crowd parts as Aloy glides down on her shieldwing, blade in hand.
“Commander,” Kotallo says, confusion and delight both vying for their place in his expression.
Okay, Aloy. Deep breath. You can do this.
She thrusts out her blade blade-down, and meets his eyes.
Kotallo stares. And stares. And keeps staring until Aloy’s hand trembles with the strain of holding up the weapon. “Aloy, are you…?”
“Yes,” she says breathlessly, and drives it into the snow between them. “I accept.”
If the sun weren’t already up, he’d light the entire settlement with the glow of his happiness.
Heedless of their audience, as small as it is, Kotallo pulls Aloy to him and kisses her right then and there.
Aloy ignores the cheering and melts into his touch.
***
“I’ve been craving this ever since the weather got cold again,” Beta says, excitedly taking the steaming mug of hot chocolate from her sister.
Aloy settles next to her mate and rests her head on his shoulder. “We’ll have to pick up some more cacao pods. Zo will be here with Vala soon, and you know how much she loves it.
“Indeed,” Kotallo says, wrapping his arm around her. “We’ll get some when we take the latest batch of Focuses there.”
“Yeah?” Aloy smiles. “It’s a date.”
“Really, guys? Right in front of my hot chocolate?” Beta mutters, though she smiles into her drink as she takes the first sip. Her eyes close and she sighs with delight. “Yeah, that’s really good. Perfect for a cold day.”
Taking a sip from her own mug, Aloy hums. “You know what? I couldn’t agree more.”