And another hand pulls him out—calloused in the way you’d expect an archer’s hand to be calloused. Aloy, fresh from her own grave and still shaking the dirt from her hair, yanks this whole person out of the ground with a quiet curse.

“You all right there?” she asks, looking the kid up and down. That…is not exactly the flashiest outfit she’s ever seen so far, but it’s definitely somewhere up there. She pulls her waterskin off her belt and offers it to him, saying, “I’ve got some water left, if you need it.” Not much left, but Aloy’s had her fill and she figures she can find a source around here quick enough. This is a farm, after all.

“Any idea where we are?” she asks, with the tone of someone who doesn’t really expect him to know.