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"Aloy."
Rost looks down at her—his burning spark of a child—slumped against the wall, her energy sapped out of her like the last embers within the ash of a fire. An arrow is still clutched within her hand, a stack of supplies scattered on the ground beside her.
A crease pulls across Rost's brow even as he crouches beside her, one hand reaching out to nudge at her gently. "Aloy, wake up."
Fourteen years now and relentless in all things. Not that he ever should have been surprised, she had always been relentless. If there was anything she had truly desired, she had worked towards it with a single-minded focus.
Rost could only hope to train her into perfection, that she might be able to withstand whatever might lie between her and her deepest hopes in the future.
But now…
A gentle tap of his knuckles against her jaw. "Aloy. Wake up, child."
A low groan, a dip of her head. "M not a child, Rost," she slurs out, her eyes not even opening.
Another fond smile, one that slips from his lips as tilts her face away from him. "I know, Aloy," he says quietly, rising to stand. "Come. Follow."
Her head jerks upwards, her eyes blinking repeatedly. "What? Where are we going? Are we night hunting again?"
She scrambles up from her spot on the floor, the arrows scattering around and she stumbles as she turns, hoping to avoid stepping on any of her craft. "Rost!" Aloy calls out, scooping up her bow and tossing it over her shoulder.
He is already past the doorway, past the courtyard and beyond, and that same warmth pulls upon his lips as he hears her movements to catch up with him, the cut of her breath against the warmed summer air.
The night is dark upon him as he climbs up the holds to the overlook, and something rolls itself through his muscles. A complaint—and a reminder that he will not be able to do this forever.
Still, he settles himself and waits, looking around at the few preparations he had set in place before waking Aloy. The lay of pelts upon the stone, and a set-aside portion of food, since Aloy had dozed through the entirety of his cooking, and further beyond even.
He couldn't bring himself to wake her before. Not when so many of her days are now spent in relentless training, outpacing even his own plans for her at times. He had allowed her even a few short hours more of rest, when she so rarely allowed it to herself.
"Are we hunting?" Aloy calls out again, hauling herself over the edge of the overlook, her eyes catching the glint of the moonlight.
"Sit," Rost says instead, tilting his head down to the pelts set beside his own.
Aloy blinks at him, and the hands that had been halfway through readjusting her quiver suddenly halt. "We aren't… training?"
"Your food." Rost leans back against the stone of the mountain, letting his gaze travel to the darkness of the valley below them. Lights flicker and cast smudges of color amidst the shadows, and something tugs in his heart at the faintest mark of Mother's Heart in the distance. "Before any training, you must be ready. Eat."
Without a word, Aloy settles beside him, and he can feel the uncertainty in her gaze as she begins to eat. Rost accepts her silence, as at ease with it as he always is, but the longer it draws upon them, the more Aloy's own quiet seems as if a challenge, daring him to speak before her. His lip twitches in mild amusement, waiting for the break of her patience.
That would surely be the next element he focused on in their next day out to hunt.
Aloy sets down the wooden bowl with a clunk, then stands up, swiping her palms across her legs. "Alright," she says. "I ate. Are we going hunting now?"
"Sit back down."
She blinks at him again, and Rost turns his face fully towars her, waiting.
A sigh puffs from her, and she settles at his side once more. "If we're not going hunting, why are we out here so late at night?"
"Look at the stars." He raises his hand, gesturing to the sky above them. "What do you see?"
"Stars," Aloy says flatly, and he can already feel the threads of her annoyance cutting loose.
Rost allows himself an amused huff of breath. "I see the history of the Nora written there, high above us. Etched upon the sky, cut into the horizon. Those are the generations past and to come, Aloy."
She shrugs, looking away. "Still just look like stars to me, Rost."
A sharp cut of breath. "Listen, Aloy. Even if you think nothing more of my words than of stories, listen to me, Child. These very stars could one day guide you."
She sighs, then shuffles closer to him, resting her head on her shoulder as she turns her gaze to the sky as well. "Ok, Rost. Teach me about the stars."
A smile upon his lips, and Rost begins, his fingers tracing along invisible lines, structures and shapes that had once led his steps far beyond these lands.
And it was these very stars that had carried him back home.
-
"Corvus," Aloy mumbles, staring up at the splay of stars above her. "Kalon. Mother's ladle."
The crow stares down at her, matched by the set of dancers. Constellations that Rost had taught her once, and the tiredness within his own voice had set her into vowing each one into memory. She had stayed up for so many nights after that, tracing each cluster of stars, drawing out sketches on her focus to overlay the sky when she looked up.
And one night… she had drawn Rost out to sit at her side, and her words and hands had woven her own stories of the night sky, the two of them lying upon the ground as they looked up to the stars.
"The mountain," Aloy croaks, blinking against the hot of tears that burn in the edges of her vision.
Rost is no longer by her side.
But these stars will carry her always.