Purge this miserable village! Burn it all to the ground! I want to see every soul in this wretched place removed from the world of the living!... What is it now? Hush child, keep back your tears... Hmm? I'm sorry. Perhaps I should have been a bit more specific. As far as your fate is concerned, little one, how about I show you to your new home…

. . .

Thirteen and a half years have gone since the beginning of the Great Monster Assaults, two since my home was destroyed. That had left over eleven years for me to dread when the creatures would finally come, and when those dreads became reality, I was both lucky and unlucky enough to have not been there. Nothing was left-not a living person (save for me, as I had hidden among the pungent deku bushes when I saw the smoke), not one home, not even the tiniest scrap of food remained when I finally brought myself to the wreckage. That was two weeks after the smoke faded away.

It would be foolish to call this a war. Wars are two-sided, aren't they? This isn't war, it's massacre. Fortunately, I'm more than familiar enough with the Woods of the South Plains thanks to my dad's map. In addition, my father was a tradesman who knew the land well and taught me everything I know now about survival, in case I ever got stranded. Even still, I never could've imagined that my stranded days would be the days I had no home to go back to.

My seventeenth birthday was just a couple months ago. I didn't bother celebrating it. There was nothing to celebrate. It was simply another day running from signs of potential attack, trying and failing to find villages, and occasionally staring at the Southern Plains of Hyrule Field through the tree line. I want to cross. I've been meaning to cross over to Hyrule Castle ever since I reached the edge of the forests. But unless some miraculous dust storm or blizzard or fairy-that-carries-nothing-but-invisibility-dust decides to stop on by, venturing out is complete suicide with the ragnaroks flying overhead and the other plethora of beasts waiting for the next unlucky body.

Their goal seems to be revolved only around destroying everything. To make matters worse, these creatures are more vicious and more powerful than anything seen in the history of Hyrule. It's not like we were unprepared. We had our walls and our archer's posts and our soldiers and our catapults and what-have-you to defend ourselves against all the scary things in the world. Nothing could stand up to what we heard so much about, and eventually saw for ourselves.

For the first time in centuries, the monsters we'd become so accustomed to have evolved. Among the new breeds, the "wingless-dragon", the drakalfos, make the lizalfos and dinolfos look like geckos. According to the books, the average dinolfos stood only a couple feet taller than a grown man at most. Although they were notoriously quick and spry, they fought more or less like we did, and with a variety of weapons. The average drakalfos however, is as massive as a grown horse at least, with front limbs that can tear apart a man like paper. They fight on two legs like lumbering giants and spew pillars of embers and glaring orange flame from their jaws. They run on all fours like animals, matched in their speed only by the luckiest of lucky calvary men.

Other breeds came in their wake, and history's stronger and rarer monsters have become more and more common. We were prepared for what history had to offer, not these abominations. We have been forced from our homes, ripped to shreds, burned alive, eaten alive, crushed, mutilated, and all but completely wiped out.

We… we have no idea what to do.

Hylians once thrived. They tried fight, they tried to run, and now they are slowly dying. I'm surprised I haven't just given up on trying to make it out of these woods alive. I guess that's my dad talking.

Speaking of, I am a strong believer in the idea the dead live on in their loved ones. And now, two years since the fires, I've decided-in a sense-that I'm going to do what the dead do: live on. Not as my father or as anyone else, but as the girl my father raised me to be; I'm going to live on as Inasa.

. . .

Second only to the Lost Woods, the Woods of the South Plains is the largest woodland area in Hyrule. I've been fortunate enough to have found a steady supply of food and water, but I've become so… lonely. I've had no contact with any other Hyruleans, or even any humans since I started living in the wilderness. Only occasionally have I been forced into a last-second hiding spot by one of the new behemoths. I hardly even count the lesser monsters as monsters anymore. Deku scrubs are nothing more than pea-shooting bushes at this point. I even fashioned one into a mask, carving little designs into my new headpiece with a knife made of bone and flint.

If there is something I'm grateful for though, it's my magic adventurer's pouch. Neither my mom nor dad let me leave the house without it ever. I must admit, it's incredibly convenient being able to fit an entire food supply and more into a chunk of leather the size of a skipping stone. That being said, not only does it hold my afore-mentioned food supply, but it also keeps the little carvings and toys I've been able to whittle out so far. I even figured out how to make a flute! I swear though, I play this one tune and it always starts raining. You can imagine how often I play that song nowadays.

Sometimes though, I wonder if dying would've been the better option, given my circumstances. I wouldn't have to worry about trying to move on. I wouldn't have to be so afraid.

I beat my head on the nearest tree. What are you thinking?! My parents and friends would've given their lives for me if it had come down to that choice. The least I can do for them now is live since they can't anymore. I have food, and I have water. I have deku seeds infused with enough spores to blind a monster at close range. Most people don't even have the luxury of being able to defend themselves against the common thief!

I run my gloved hands wearily down my face and slump into the itty-bitty hollow that I dug out of a tree trunk some time ago. After reaching into my pouch, I pull out my knife and a half-finished carving of a horse. Well, I say carving. If I'm truly honest with myself, it's more of an act of vandalism against an innocent chunk of wood.

The number of hours I've spent in here with only my knife and a piece of bark is beyond what even I want to imagine. Sometimes I just sit and think. Occasionally I think about more serious topics, like my village. Other times I dream up these childish fantasies; fantasies like seeing all the little carvings I've made just spring up and fly into the trees. Of course, then there's everyone's childhood dream: making it to Hyrule Castle and meeting the royal family. The first part of that dream has become more of an ideal solution to my problems than ever, given how immensely fortified the place must be. The insanity of my fantasy comes in when I try to think of ways to get there.

The land from here to the castle is completely open field, and any towns or cities along the way have likely been leveled by now. Even if I worked up the nerve to venture out there, I have no means of quick transportation (in other words, if I'm caught, I'm dead), no legitimate or lethal means of defense (also in other words, if I'm caught, I'm dead), and no clue as to where in the world the Farore-forsaken castle is (so if I'm caught, I'm most likely lost, and most definitely dead).

But it's only a fantasy. That's the whole point of fantasy, right? Aren't fantasies just daydreamt impossibilities that we like to put hope in anyway? Perhaps I need to simply stop doing that. I should just stop putting hope in something so foolish. It's like I said before: I have plenty of means to keep surviving here. Why should I even think about leaving?

My reason comes to me a few weeks later, on the sound of trotting hoof steps and decrepit wooden wheels.