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Ring ring…
…ring ring
Ring ring…
The darkness of Aloy’s eyelids gave way to the darkness of her room as she opened her eyes slowly to the sound of the phone’s ring echoing through the otherwise quiet house. It wasn’t her phone ringing, it sat dark on the nightstand next to her bed until she picked it up to check the time.
3:35 am.
It wasn’t her father’s phone. She knew his ringtone well, having been the one to set it years ago. He wasn’t as good at technology, and hadn’t been able to figure out how to change it.
Ring ring…
…ring ring
Ring ring…
Rost insisted on keeping a landline even if they were more or less obsolete. Few people called it nowadays, but it was still active. Left collecting dust on the kitchen counter with no calls to be answered. Until recently, that was.
Who the hell would be calling at this hour?
She had half a mind to let it ring and ring until it went to voicemail. It was likely some solicitor; another corporate conglomerate trying to buy the ranch for less than it was worth, or yet another call about their car's extended warranty.
The phone stopped ringing. Aloy closed her eyes.
Ring ring…
…ring ring
Ring ring…
The bastards were persistent, she would give them that much.
With a heavy sigh, Aloy swung her legs off her bed and got to her feet, using one hand to balance herself and the other to rub the sleep out of her eyes. She needed to be up in two and a half hours to get to the morning routine, but she wasn’t getting back to sleep so long as the phone kept ringing. Might as well answer only to tell the caller to shove off.
Aloy stumbled from her room, checking the door frame with her hip before she fully righted herself, before her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She knew the house better than the back of her hand, navigating it in the dark was no problem. If she turned on any lights, she might wake the rest of the household.
The phone was still ringing by the time she reached the kitchen, so with an eyeroll of annoyance she snatched it off the cradle and kept walking to fix herself a glass of water.
“Outcast Ranch,” she croaked into the receiver, holding the phone between her ear and shoulder. “Aloy Wilder speaking.”
“Apologies for calling so late,” said an unfamiliar voice into the phone. “Is Rost Wilder available?”
Aloy filled her glass with tap water and took a swig before answering. “No, he’s asleep.” She glanced at the clock on the oven. “It is almost four am, after all. I swear to God, if you're about to bring up my car-"
“No, no,” the caller interrupted. “It’s about your mother.”
Dread settled like stones in Aloy’s stomach. “My mother?”
Elisabet Sobeck. A woman she knew only by name.
She and Rost had been married several years ago, even having two children: twins. Not long after their birth did the couple separate, Elisabet realized that she was gay. By all accounts it was an amicable divorce. Each parent took one child. Out there in the world was a twin Aloy didn’t know. A stranger with her face.
It wasn’t like Rost had intentionally cut Elisabet out of Aloy’s life. He didn’t talk about her often, sure, and there were very few pictures of her around the house, but he never had anything bad to say either. No ill will towards his ex-wife. Instead it was Elisabet who cut Aloy off. She… didn’t know her mother at all.
“Really, I should speak to Mr. Wilder-” the caller began.
Aloy leaned back against the counter, bracing one hand against the tile and using the other to support the phone properly. “You’ll have to wait,” she glanced at the oven clock. “Two hours for him to wake up then.”
“It’s urgent.”
“Leave a message?” Aloy suggested, then she sighed. “Whatever you have to say to him, you should say to me. I’ll hear about it either way.”
“But-”
“What?”
The caller heaved a sigh so heavy she could easily picture the movement that accompanied it: a weary expression coupled with a hand run through greying hair. “There’s no easy way to say this.”
She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. “Just say it.”
“Your mother, Elisabet Sobeck… has passed away.”
For a moment, time froze. Aloy inhaled sharply and the breath froze in her lungs. Her grip tightened on the counter. It was too early in the morning to learn such terrible news. Her only thought was one of understanding, now keenly aware of the reason why the caller would rather speak with her father. Perhaps Aloy shouldn’t have insisted. Or maybe the caller should have stood their ground.
Elisabet Sobeck was a stranger. Someone who existed only in memories and blurry pictures. Despite this, Aloy had always been comforted by her presence in the world; she knew her mother was out there, somewhere, doing good, simply… existing. Now she wasn’t.
Something like emptiness settled in her chest.
“...Ms. Wilder?”
Aloy began to breathe again. She didn’t cry. Time began to move. “Aloy, please,” she corrected, like that was what mattered here.
“Aloy,” said the caller. “...Are you okay?”
“Of course I’m not! I just learned my mother died.” Idiot.
Another sigh, this one softer. What time was it over there? Seven am? Eight? Too early to deal with a grieving teenager. Would she even be able to attend her mother’s funeral?
Did she want to?
“How… Did it happen?” She asked slowly.
There was a long pause. The caller thought over their explanation carefully. “It was a tragic accident.”
The caller did not elaborate. She… wasn’t sure she even wanted them to. Instead, the caller launched into a spiel about the important details: the funeral date, the will reading, and so forth.
“And, there is one more thing.”
“...What’s that?”
She did not want any more bad news.
“Dr. Sobeck had sole custody of her daughter Elisabeta. As she is still a minor, she needs to be placed with a new guardian, which would be her father.”
Elisabeta. Beta. A name Aloy hadn’t heard in a very long time. If her mother was a stranger, then Beta was something else entirely. Aloy had no pictures of her except for a few from when they were both infants. She didn’t know anything about her, who she was or what she looked like.
Aloy closed her eyes for a few long moments, tilting her head far back. In another hour, the sun would begin to rise. In two, so too would the ranch. She and her father would wake up and begin the morning routine: release the chickens from the coops, feed and water the horses, clean stalls… Life would go on. The world would move without Elisabet Sobeck in it. Aloy couldn’t even pretend she still existed.
“Wait here,” was all she said to the caller before she set the phone face down on the counter and walked down the hallway to wake Rost.
“Come on Beta, it can’t be that bad.”
Alva’s famous last words to her, a phrase Beta did not entirely understand. Her mom was dead, and because Beta was still a minor she was being shipped across the country to stay with her next living relatives: a father and twin sister she had never met before. The pair lived on a ranch just outside of a small town, but that was as much as she knew.
She and Alva had, in their limited time, tried to find information on the ranch, but neither Rost nor Aloy had any sort of social media presence (“Are they even real?” Alva asked). However, Alva, budding historian that she was, had managed to dig up some articles that were older than even Beta. Things about the ranch’s participation in and sponsorship of various rodeos both state and national; smaller mentions of sale ads for horses… None of it made sense to her. She didn’t even like horses.
Then one year it just… stopped. There was no indication of why, but this small ranch fell out of the eye of the rodeo world.
For reasons she couldn’t quite explain, this unnerved Beta rather deeply.
But she had other things to worry about at the present: such as where the hell was her ride? Rost was supposed to pick her up from the air port, and she had been waiting for twenty minutes now with absolutely no sign of him. She was certain that if he didn’t arrive soon she would shake herself apart like a rickety machine.
Currently, she was sitting on her sturdier suitcase with her hands balled into fists on her lap, squeezing the fabric of her pants. If she had nails, she would’ve been biting them, but unfortunately the past two weeks had been hell on her and thus on her fingernails, which she had chewed until they went ragged.
Beta began to rock, but the suitcase beneath her rocked with her, causing her to abruptly stop. She did not need to fall over in the middle of the airport and cause a scene; she wouldn't be able to handle having to deal with anyone who might stop to ask if she was okay. There was already a nearby security guard who kept glancing at her. Did he think she was lost or something? Probably.
Unable to rock, she instead began to drum her fingers on her thighs. Her full body was shaking which was normal, but she couldn't tell if it was from hunger or anxiety. Both, probably. She hadn't eaten on the plane at all, too nauseous to even entertain the thought of food.
She wanted to go home, but home wasn't an option. What were her options? Wait? She could go buy an overpriced airport snack. Did she even have money with her? No, she felt too sick to eat; her roiling stomach would likely reject anything she tried to eat and throwing up in an airport was not high on her to-do list. What else was there? It was far too late at night for her to call Alva, though her friend's rambling voice would be far easier to listen to than the flight announcements read over the too loud, tinny speakers.
Closing her eyes, Beta took a deep breath in an effort to soothe herself. It was fine. There was no way Rost forgot to pick up the child he hadn't bothered to acknowledge for seventeen years. No, surely he had run into traffic, or gotten lost, or something.
When she reopened her eyes, her gaze immediately caught on a somewhat familiar face.
He looked older than he did in the few pictures Beta had seen of him; gray hairs laced his braided beard and hair, more wrinkles lined his eyes, and his shoulders slumped slightly as if weighted down.
Rost.
Her father.
Thy stare at each other for what feels like forever but is more likely only thirty seconds. Maybe a minute. She is struck by silence yet finds herself hyperaware of her surroundings, her skin sensitive to the chill air. She doesn't speak. Should she speak? What is there to say? Her grip tightens around the handle of her suitcase.
Finally, Rost asks, "Elisabeta?" As if he isn't sure he found the right copy of his dead ex-wife.
"Beta," she corrects. Her full name only a letter off from her mother's, one too painful to speak right now. "Hi."
"Right, Beta," He replies, like that was something he should've known. She doesn't blame him. They've never met before. "How was your flight?"
She shrugs. "It was fine. Long."
Rost nods in understanding. "Are you ready to go?"
Beta has never been more ready to leave. Her destination, known as Outcast Ranch, is not her home and will not be her home, but it is far better than the airport and the strangers and she is so, so tired. Their walk out of the airport is filled with silence, Beta keeps her arms tucked closely to her sides and clutches tightly the handle of her suitcase as if it would runaway if she were to relax. Used to be she was enamoured with airports, all the little model planes, all the lights, all the people. She got to travel with her mom occasionally, attending various science conferences as Elisabet's mini-me, witness to iconic airport decorations, like Blucifer.
Here and now she was alone and what awaited her was not a conference of the world's brightest minds, stuffy and boring to any child who was not born to one of said world's brightest minds. No, instead she was headed to a ranch in what might have been the middle of nowhere, some small town in the country to live with family members she had never met. As far as vacations went, it was not her favourite.
The parking garage smelled like car exhaust and concrete and dust. Almost like the city back home. Rost brought her to a beat up red pickup truck and was kind enough to load her luggage for her while she climbed into the passenger seat. They spoke briefly, awkwardly exchanging pleasantries as Beta picked at the hem of her shirt, her fingers, anything to keep her busy. Eventually, silence wins again as she is too tired to keep up conversation much less keep her eyes open, and as she leans on the door to stare out the window, the rumble of the truck's engine lulls her to bumpy sleep.
When Beta finally woke up she was no longer in the truck; instead, she was in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room.
The walls were off-white in color with dark wooden moulding. Her bed was in a back corner, facing the bedroom door, and next to the door was a closet with dark wooden slatted doors, the kind that folded open. Her luggage sat in front of the closet. Next to her was a nightstand that matches the rest of the wood, on which sat a small digital clock (the face read 6:05am), and her phone. There was a desk against the opposite wall with a chair, and two tall bookcases. The floor was carpeted.
But aside from the furniture, the room was empty. There were no pictures or paintings, no books on the shelves, nothing to personalize it. She wondered if she might be allowed to decorate, but quickly tamped the thought down. She would not be staying long enough to get attached. As soon as she turned eighteen she intended to leave.
For now, Beta had more immediate things to focus on; such as navigating her stay with her family.
She could hear noises outside of her room. Dishes clanking, the scrape of cutlery across ceramic, glasses being moved… There were footsteps, too. The scrape of a chair… then:
"Did you get any sleep at all, old man?" A girl's voice asked,
Aloy. It had to be Aloy. She spoke loud enough that Beta could hear her clearly from... wherever she was in the house.
Whatever the response was, Beta couldn't hear it; Rost spoken more softly than Aloy. It must have been funny, because she laughed.
Then, Aloy asked in a lower yet still discernible tone: "What is she like?"
Beta wondered how all thirty minutes of her conscious moments with Rost would be described. She sat up and leaned forward, straining her ears to hear his response but couldn't pick up any clear words. More concerning, she couldn't hear Aloy's reply.
Would now be a good time to haul herself out of the warm sheets and introduce herself? She would have to get up eventually, best to make it sooner rather than later. Yet an anxious hollow in her stomach kept her from moving, and the thought of opening the bedroom door which seemed so far away made her breath quicken.
Her hands, no, her full body trembled. It would be better to get up now. She didn't know if someone would come to check on her if she stayed too long. Getting caught unawares, rumpled and wearing the same clothes she wore yesterday, would be far worse. Beta needed to greet them on her own terms; make a good first impression. That was easier said than done.
First, Beta grabbed her phone from the nightstand and scrolled through all forty-seven messages from Alva. These ranged from concerned requests to know if Beta was alive, to general life updates.
Beta replied: "I'm here and I'm alive."
To which a typing indicator immediately appeared. Moments later, a reply followed inquiring about Aloy. Beta sent back that they hadn't met yet, and Alva asked her to call later so they could catch up.
With that out of the way, she finally swung her legs over the edge of the bed and got up. Beta padded over to her luggage, got dressed, and raked her fingers through her short hair in the hopes that she would look somewhat decent. Lacking a mirror, she had no way of knowing. She wanted to splash some water on her face, but she wasn't about to go opening random doors until she managed to find a bathroom.
Beta took a step closer to the looming door, now faced with the inevitable. She pocketed her phone, then quickly changed her mind and brought it back into her hand. Like a life-line, something to keep her hands busy and her mind grounded.
Opening the door, as it turned out, was not all that scary. It led into a very normal hallway with a wooden floor and a colorful woven runner up the middle. There were more closed doors, a couple pictures and paintings… really, what had she been expecting? A monster? Beta shook her head at the notion and padded towards the open end of the hall. This let out into a well-furnished living room, decorated with a worn couch, more wooden furniture, bookcases and a coffee table and a TV stand with an old looking TV.
She was briefly distracted by a console table to her side, just next to the hallway entrance. This was covered in picture frames and above it hung more on the wall, there were ribbons too. The photos varied, most of them with different people with horses. Some showed horses without people, and a couple of a little girl who had to be Aloy. One in particular caught her eye: a standing frame tucked in the back and dusty. This held a picture of two infants resting next to each other, both tightly swaddled.
Beta knew this picture. She had one just like it back home. It was one of the only pictures of her and Aloy together. For a brief moment, she rested a finger on top of it, an emotion she couldn't quite place stirring in her chest. She was touched that they had kept any pictures of her at all. Maybe she hadn't been forgotten.
After pulling her eyes and thoughts away she continued on. The kitchen sounds were louder now which made sense given that the kitchen was just across from the living room, though up a couple of steps up on a more elevated floor. She could see figures moving, but it seemed they hadn't noticed her yet, and so quietly she made her way up the stairs and let herself into the kitchen.
Looking at Aloy was like looking in a mirror.
Beta knew her immediately. She had lived with that same face for seventeen years, both her own and her mother's. Aloy's hair was much longer, decorated with a couple small braids and lightened by the sun. Her face was more freckled and her skin less pale, she also had more muscle definition than Beta, from a life spent on a farm and not behind a computer. Aloy was also a little shorter, maybe by an inch or two.
Media depicted twins reuniting as some joyous, tearful thing. The fictional twins talked about finding the missing part of themselves, like their hearts and souls had been made whole. Media depictions were wrong. Beta felt like a deer in the headlights, frozen under the scrutiny.
What did Aloy think of her? Was Beta what she imagined as a twin? Did she meet expectations, or fail them?
Did Aloy meet her expectations?
The air is tense and uncomfortable and Beta can feel the silence under her skin. She is a stranger standing in a stranger's kitchen, entirely out of her depth. She doesn't know what to say because every greeting feels too small to match the weight of the moment.
Whatever Aloy was expecting, Beta isn’t it. Where Aloy is well-muscled and tanned from a life spent outdoors, Beta is thin and pale. They're the same height, she wagers, but Aloy stands tall while Beta's shoulders hunch. She's loud and outgoing, but Beta looks like she's perpetually waiting for the other shoe to drop. They wear the same face, sure, identical twins, eerily similar to their mother, but they wear it differently.
"Good morning," Rost says to Beta, "Did you sleep well?"
Standing awkwardly in the doorway, Beta says, "Yes, thank you," and stares at the ground, stealing glances at Aloy that she does not pretend to not notice.
Aloy is not a coward and thus openly stares at her twin. Like a funhouse mirror, a reflection that isn't quite right. It's... disconcerting. She imagines Beta feels much the same. Worse, even, given the situation.
She tries, "It's, Beta, right? I'm Aloy."
Beta looks up, eyes briefly wide, as though shocked that Aloy acknowledged her. Or spoke. Something like that. "Hi," She says timidly. "You..." Her head tilts. "You like just like her. Mom, I mean. It's weird."
"...Thanks."
Rost stands, eager to free himself from the awkward tension that has fallen over the room. "I'm sure you two have a lot to talk about. I'll leave you to it," He says right before heading towards the back door, disappearing out into the yard.
They both watch him leave but their attention returns to each other as soon as he's gone. "Have a seat," Aloy says, nodding towards the dining table. "Are you hungry?"
Beta sits. She does not sit still. Her fingers drum against the table as she looks around the room, taking in every detail. Her focus rests on the fridge, covered in magnets and pictures and ancient drawings from Aloy's childhood.
“How do you like your eggs?” Aloy asks.
"Scrambled," comes the quiet reply.
Aloy is already in motion, plucking two eggs from the carton with ease. "Have you ever had fresh eggs before? These are from our own chickens, far better than anything bought from a store." She's talking only to fill the silence, but also because she's proud of her pet hens. Beta doesn't respond, which isn't surprising, and so as she heats the stove and cracks eggs into the pan, Aloy asks the question that's been on her mind since she was old enough to think it:
“What was Elisabet like?”
She glances over her shoulder in time to see Beta sit up.
“Um,” Beta begins, nervously twisting her fingers. “She is- was, a genius. A leader in her fields. She cared very deeply for this world and everyone on it, and wanted to make life better for everyone,” her voice warms with pride. “She dedicated her whole life to this, to making technology to save lives… And she was so proud that I was following in her footsteps.”
The last line is delivered hesitantly, as if Beta is unsure of its validity.
“What about Rost?” Beta asked. “What has life been like … here?”
Aloy finishes her cooking and grabs a new plate to put the eggs on. It isn’t her turn to do dishes tonight, so she isn’t worried about the extra work. “Good,” she says finally as she slides the plate across the table. Is there a better word for it? She’s always been happy, Rost has taught her everything she knows even if most of those lessons came from the experience of getting thrown off the back of a horse.
“He’s always so serious, but he’s been there when I needed him,” she continues. Maybe a subtle jab, though it’s impolite to speak ill of the dead. Maybe Aloy’s a little bitter, but at least she’s always had one parent to care about her.
Beta only nods and picks at her food.
She stands there for a moment, feeling awkward about staring blankly, but Beta isn’t giving her much to work with. Eventually, her hands shift to her hips. “When you’re done eating I can give you a tour.”
“Okay.” There’s a pause, then added quietly: “I’d like that.”
By the time they get outside, it's still a bit chilly as the sun crests over the distant mountains, casting pale light across the ranch. Beta is far from an expert on ranches, what they should be, what a good ranch looks like, the average size of them, but this one is several acres at least; and just from the back porch she can make out a barn and several paddocks, though most are oddly devoid of horses or other typical ranch animals. It occurs to her only now that she didn't ask about what kind of animals they keep here. Aloy proceeds onwards, leading Beta onto the property with a slight spring in her step. She's in her element here. Beta has never felt more out of place in her life.
They wander for some time, Aloy points out everything: a large chicken coop surrounded by chickens sqawking grumpily, the occasional barn cats seen only from the corners of her eyes, the handful of goats in one enclosure, so on. In a nearby pasture, a couple of horses crowd the fence, staring towards Aloy expectantly. When she gestures to them on the tour, she explains that they're waiting for breakfast.
But something else catches Beta's eye entirely as they approach the barn.
In a distant pasture, out past the barn, stands a single horse majestically silhouetted by the sun. At first she assumes that its horse-friends are somewhere close behind, but further inspection reveals that, as far as she can see, there are no other horses.
"Who is that?" Beta asks, pointing.
Aloy turns to follow her finger, then shakes her head. "Oh, just ignore him."
"...Why?"
"He's feral and will bite you if you get to close. Come meet my horses instead, they're much friendlier."
Though Beta enjoys not being bitten by horses, something about the lone horse keeps her attention for a few moments longer before she follows her sister into the barn. It's a large structure, ten stalls maybe, with separate grain and tack rooms and even a hayloft, the kind of barn one might see on tv; yet it only houses two horses, stalled side by side. One is light brown and introduced as Dawn, the other is much darker brown and called West. Each horse hangs their head over their gates for attention, eyeing the pair with dark, intelligent eyes. Dawn stretches her nose forward and Aloy moves closer to meet her, petting her long muzzle.
"She thinks you have treats," Aloy explained.
Beta resisted the urge to pat her own pockets. "I don't."
"Dawn doesn't know that. Would you like to give her a treat?"
She considers the offer, watches how the horses watch her, thinks about what she knows about horse teeth. "No, thank you."
Aloy shrugs and fishes something out of her pocket to feed to Dawn, who eagerly accepts the treat and crunches down on it. West curiously reaches out to nuzzle Aloy until she turns and gives him a treat as well. Though she is the one feeding them, she still shakes her head and mutters something about them being spoiled.
Both of the horses are massive creatures. These being the first horses Beta had ever seen in the flesh. They scare her, a little. There's so much on the internet about horses being soulless finger-eaters who think nothing of violence. But, really, they seem like big dogs. Big dogs that are capable of breaking bones. So, normal big dogs really. She is out of her element, equal parts fascinated and afraid. All of this is a lot to take in and she's still jetlagged from her flight.
"I've never seen a real horse before," Beta admits quietly, taking a shy step forward towards her sister and the horses. Flicked ears are the only acknowledgement she gets until she cautiously extends a hand, fingers splayed. Do horses need to sniff your hand before you pet them? Dawn extends her muzzle to Beta's hand, pushing her velvety nose against her palm. Dawn's upper lip wiggles and her mouth parts, still looking for treats. Horse spit is decidedly gross and Beta's only a little afraid to lose her fingers, so she quickly withdraws her hand, nose wrinkling as she shakes it.
She must have been making some kind of face, because Aloy laughs, then digs around in her pocket again to pull out another treat, leaving Beta to wonder just how many she had, and when she had the time to stow them away. Skillfully keeping it out of reach of grabbing horses, she steps forward and offers it to Beta. "Here, just try it."
The horses watch with interest as the treat exchanges hands.
It smells vaguely like apples.
Beta takes the proffered treat tentatively, then stares at Aloy, entirely unsure of what she was meant to do with it. Smart enough to know that she wasn't meant to eat it. Not smart enough to know what else it was for.
"Give it to one of them," Aloy says when Beta doesn't move. "They won't bite. Here, like this." She holds her hand out in example, and slowly Beta mirrors her until she nods approvingly. "Hand flat, you don't want your fingers in the way."
"You said they won't bite."
"Intentionally."
She blinks, and looks at the horses. The horses look at her. She takes another step forward, past Aloy, and offers her hand and the treat to West. He extends his head to meet her and lips at her palm until he successfully finds the treat. Horse spit is still gross. Beta again pulls her hand back and shakes it again in another attempt to have less horse spit on her hand.
"He likes you," Aloy observes, resting her hands on her hips.
"Gross," Beta replies.
"You'll get used to it."
"I... Don't think I would like to."
To this, Aloy only shrugs.
The tour resumes around the barn: first stop, the hose, so that Beta can rinse the horse slime off of her hands. Afterwards she trails after Aloy as she explains the morning routine, feeding the horses, putting on flymasks, filling waters... Aloy talks, mostly to herself just to fill the silence. It's an odd habit, but one they have in common; a habit shared despite the distance between them. Outside, the temperature rises and Beta begins to cook in the heat. She doesn't often spend this much time outdoors, preferring her room above anything.
While Aloy does... Whatever, Beta entertains herself with the barn cats. Skittish things who dart in and out of the doors and hide behind the saddles and grain bins and actively avoid her. She's content to watch them: Aloy calls out names occasionally. The large black cat with torn ears is Hades, there's a brown and white tabby called Gaia, and a solid grey cat named Eleutheia. Of the cats she sees, Gaia seems to be the friendliest, at least daring to approach Beta's outstretched hand, while Hades only contented himself to glare balefully from around corners.
After forever, or maybe a few hours, it's finally time to head back inside. A call Beta is all too happy about. She was raised with manners, and is far too polite to complain, but she's sweating out of her skin as they walk back inside.
Days passed. Beta adjusted to her new situation at a snail's pace. Aloy was nice, but loud, far more outgoing than Beta had ever been. She wasn't around too often; spending her days going out riding with her friends, people Beta was content with not meeting. She did not want to deal with other strangers. However, that did mean she spent most of her time inside. Of course she would end up hiding indoors on her packed along laptop while surrounded by nature, she had never been an outdoorsy person to begin with.
It quickly became a lonely existence, though. Though she and Alva stayed in contact, they were separated by timezones and Alva's busy schedule, limiting their time. Beta couldn't get comfortable, a stranger in someone else's home. Someone else's skin. She was more than used to quiet homes, her apartment in the city had been empty more often than not, but usually she had the sound of the neighbors and traffic. Here it was... quiet. Peaceful. She almost hated it.
Grief lurked in the darker corners of her mind; she hadn't had a lot of time to fully process Elisabet's death. The funeral and this move had all happened so rapidly. She didn't want to think about it.
She couldn't hide inside forever though, and boredom (along with the basic human need for sunlight) eventually drove her outside. Beta wandered the ranch with no goal in mind, absently poking around for cats. Alva had demanded pictures, and she intended to deliver. There were, however, no cats to be found. They hid in places she was too afraid to venture into, like the ramshackle toolshed that only scared her a little bit and earned a wide berth.
Eventually, her nonspecific wandering brought her where she wasn't meant to be, exactly. The far pasture where the lone horse lived. He who bites. She stopped at the fence to stare at him.
And he lifted his head and stared back.
The horse was... filthy. Covered in shaggy white fur which was stained with grass and mud and who knew what else; his mane and tail were both long and tangled. He looked nothing like those fancy wild stallions you saw in the movies, all sleek and well groomed for the cameras. He looked feral. Yet as she stood there and stared, he didn't make any attempts to be aggressive. He just flicked his tail and lowered his head to return to grazing.
Beta took a picture. She should've left, she felt like she was breaking some sort of rule, but she didn't feel like she was in danger of losing any fingers or flesh.
"Hi," she said, to the horse, who did not respond. She looked around but didn't see any other horses. Was he lonely out here by himself? Did horses experience loneliness? "Do you have a name?"
He still did not respond. Typical.
Why was he out there? What had he done to be isolated?
"What are you doing?" asked a familiar voice.
She winced and spun around to face Aloy, who had somehow managed to sneak up on her while leading a fully tacked horse. Her sister stood, hip cocked and eyebrows raised questioningly.
"I uh, was looking for cats," Beta explained. "Not that I've been successful."
"They don't like people. But it looks like you've made a different friend." Aloy nodded to something behind Beta, and she turned to see the white horse standing behind her, a few feet away from the fence but still a lot closer than he had been before. Beta took a step forward.
Aloy lifted her free hand to beckon Beta forward. "We should move before he gets angry, come on. Mind West's feet."
Beta minded West's feet as he turned, and followed Aloy towards the barn. "Why is he out there by himself?"
"He's feral. No one can get near him."
"...Is that it? Does he have a name?"
She shrugged. "No. He bred to be a bronc- a bucking horse for rodeos, and born right around the time dad shut down the business. I guess he got overlooked, no one bought him, so he ended up on his own."
That was... Kind of sad. Beta glanced over her shoulder towards the horse, who hadn't moved. "Huh."
Aloy glanced at her. "Why do you care so much?"
"I'm curious, I suppose." Even she wasn't sure, but something about the horse interested her. Poor thing looked like he could use a good bath. Maybe a hair cut.
Together they walked back to the barn. Though she didn't need to stick around, Beta found herself hovering nearby to watch Aloy as she went through the motions of grooming her horse: West was tied between two posts, apparently called a cross tie, untacked, and, because it had been a particularly strenuous ride, rinsed down with the hose. As she worked, Aloy talked about her day. She had gone on a ride with her friend Talanah, which took up most of the day. Apparently it had been a good ride.
By the time Aloy finished putting West away, Beta had been outside for much longer than she would prefer, yet even as her sister walked towards the house, she hung back. She glanced towards the lone horse once more before finally going in.