The Other Huntress (Kotallo/OC)

Chapter Seven: Welcome to the West

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Orea stifled a cough as the putrid scent of decaying flesh burned through her nose. Even with her face covered by a handkerchief generously borrowed to her from Aloy-Orea's had gone off into the unknown with the Tenakth Marshall Kotallo-the rising stench of death was overwhelming. The huntress had stood vigil with death enough to know the odor would not quickly fade: it would linger, like jagged scars upon the earth. The sun had fallen and risen again over the coarse sands where so much Carja and Tenakth blood had been spilled, and cleanup efforts were now well underway. Orea and Aloy had stayed behind to help tend to Varl, before turning their attention to the dead who now needed burying. The sisters had helped the soldiers of Barren Light identify and load the fallen onto individual carts, which would return the bodies to their homes and families, for them to be properly cleaned and put to rest.

Orea was now helping to gather a few rebel bodies, Regalla's forces having not bothered to retrieve their dead. In the process, she came across Tekka and Grudda's corpses, still face-down in the shifting sands. A blue glint from Tekka's cadaver caught the huntress's attention, Orea bending down to find Tekka's Shieldwing (that seemed an appropriate name for the tool) still attached to her wrist. Orea carefully removed the item, powering it on for herself. A faint glow overcame her face, the Shieldwing still operational, albeit damaged. I don't think this thing can take any more punishment, but it'll make a good glider. Deciding to claim the item for herself-after all, it wasn't as though its previous owner could protest the exchange-Orea turned off the ancient mechanism and stored it on her gauntlet, ready for a moment's use. After briefly looting the identical component off Grudda, Orea made her way toward Barren Light, where most of the bodies were gathered.

One in particular snagged Orea's gaze as she made to pass through the gates. It was Fashav, his eyes closed peacefully and a hand laid against his chest. A chest that was moving!

"What the-?" Brows furrowed, Orea examined the Marshall, her ear to his heart. A steady thump answered her silent question, Orea shooting back in surprise. Fashav was alive?! But how? And why was he on a transportation cart? Shouldn't he be with the healers? Even if Fashav had survived, Orea had seen the blow struck against him-it had not been a frivolous attack.

"Excuse me!" Orea called, waving a pair of guards over to her. "What's this man doing here? He's still alive, why is he among the dead?"

"He's alive, yes, but he's in the death sleep," one of the guards answered.

"The death sleep?"

"A rare occurrence, but those within the death sleep breathe, but do not wake. While he is alive now, he will not awaken and eventually will wither away. He is to be delivered in Meridian for a royal burial." The death sleep? I've never heard of that-wait, do they mean a coma? Thanks to data from the Old World, Orea had discovered that wounded warriors occasionally went into a trance called a coma-their bodies shutting down all unnecessary functions to focus on healing itself. While there were accounts of some coma patients never waking, many datapoints had revealed that those within a coma could survive, and stir from their slumber. If Fashav really was underneath the coma's spell...then there's a chance he'll survive.