The Sweet Escape |Part 1| The Carja

Chapter 1 - Arrival

Aloy had forgotten how scalding Hidden Ember could be.

A few nights ago, she and Beta had cross-referenced their maps, trying to teach Beta the lay of the land as it was, and not her outdated Old World maps. So much had changed since they were drawn. Lakes of yore had dried up. Deserts had sprung into oases. Sand had covered up entire villages.

In order for Beta to understand Aloy's maps, she had made reference points, telling little tid-bits of trivia as they talked. As it turns out, Hidden Ember and what used to be Las Vegas had been situated right on the cusp of an area that lit up:

Death Valley.

A very ominous name. When Aloy's eyes had widened when reading it. Beta had explained its origin: ancient settlers had died there, of the unparalleled scorching temperatures, of huge boulders that left tracks across the cracked crust of the earth as they seemed to move on their own, and of the singing sands as the dunes moved.

No water. No trees to give you a shadowy reprieve from the unrelenting sun. Blazing days and freezing nights on the sandy crust of the desert grounds.

That there had been holy texts back then, wherein a prayer mentioned "the valley of the shadow of death," which the survivors of the desert had taken to heart.

Aloy hadn't believed Beta; thought she'd been telling tales. Found the prayer prose very similar to the holy scripture of the Sun-Priests. The deserts were hot, but surely not that hot. Aloy had been there! Several times!

She'd been mistaken. She'd been there earlier in the year.

It was high summer now, the days stretched almost impossibly long, and she rode her Sunwing under an unrelenting sun. The wind as she flew tempered her some; cool caresses across her reddened, exposed skin. But she was still flying directly under the sun, with no shade. She'd used up all of Zo's skin ointment which soothed sunburn.

Eventually, even the metal chassis of her machine mount became so scalding hot, her hands ached. She had prepared enough to travel with plenty of water, but water only kept her alive. It didn't stop her from feeling like she was cooking under her armor.

But then she saw the dancing lights of her destination, hazy like a mirage in the distance, and swooped lower, spurring the mount on. She longed for cool shadow, for the humid chill in the vast chambers under the Tower of Tears, to bathe and swim in the waters there and soothe her skin, which felt blistering and pulled dry and tight after her journey. To wash the sand out of her hair and the nooks of her body and her gear. She wanted to drink cold water and not the lukewarm, stale contents of her flask.

Curse Beta for planting the name Death Valley in her mind. She'd have much rather called this desert Singing Sands. She'd heard it, the ominous bass hum as the sands shifted. Desert music in the wind, ever shifting sands wandering the expanses.

At least that name gave a nod to the astounding beauty of the harsh landscape. Made you feel like you could conquer it.

Death Valley sounded like an Oseram name. They liked their ill-boding place names... Evocative enough, but didn't always sound like places you wanted to visit; the Gravehoard came to mind.

Speaking of Oseram...

"Aloy! Sparks to steel!" Erend's loud and joyful voice rang clear across the small square which had formed between the Tower of Tears and Morlund's Orb, "You should have called ahead, I'd have cleaned up a bit!"

Before she had the time to answer, his arms circled around Aloy's middle and hoisted her up like she weighed nothing, swinging her around. Surprised, Aloy braced against his shoulders with a small 'whoop' as he sat her back down.