Excerpts From Books I'll Never Write

Excerpt Sixteen (Horizon Zero Dawn)

She spoke with a voice of song, quiet and hushed, knowing of the gift that silence brought. A whisper into the heat of the sand, lost to its winds and wings. "I'm so sorry, Talanah."

How frivolous a thing to accept the apology of one that shone more light on her than even her Sun could testify. The Sunhawk smiled. A wicked simper that didn't reach her eyes and melted away without resolve. "Don't be. You're doing what you think is right."

Aloy flinched as if stricken by fist, but it was words that dug deepest. Those left unsaid wounded worst. She wanted to explain. Give reason to the paths she took and the mountains she endured that led her farther and farther away. The Hunters' Lodge had only ever been a stopping point on her road to identity.

And yet, as she stood before this woman that had fought tooth and nail for all the wrongs of tradition to be rectified, she found any excuse to be unwelcome. Talanah was the sort of person that made each setback, each debilitating account, each heart wrenching discovery mean something great.

She was also the sort of person Aloy could see herself loving. But only ever in another life. Only ever in a world where Outcast and Anointed meant nothing.

She steeled herself. Ground her teeth until their roots burned and she tasted copper. As familiar as metal smelled. "You have to understand, if I thought it a viable option I'd beg for you to come with me. But your place is here. You already have a life."

"And so do you!" It's bitter and fast, slices like the ice off a glinkhawk. Leaves ruthless etches across both their skin. "You're Meridian's hero. With Hades gone-." Her voice wavers and trails off, leaves a well beaten path for the barren truth of reality.

It doesn't matter. Aloy is Aloy. Will leave for good now that the immediate threat has been vanquished. She is a woman of all and none simultaneously. Takes to tribes like both a thank you and a curse. Leaves just the same.

So Talanah swallows her argument and instead turns away. Grabs at her armor as if it could protect her from more than the physicality of war. When she finds her voice again, it is a broken thread that follows her back to the city as she walks away for the last time.

"Good luck, Aloy, despite the Nora."

And in the midday sun, with heart and pride lying shattered across the cracking clay, Aloy whistles. Wipes at her face to banish the hurt and reaches for the Strider that comes to her. Digs her heels into its sides and rides into the direction of the sun. Direction of answers.

Away from home.