Tempest Bound: I'm going to do it, guys. I'm going to do it!

BlueboxTimeParadox: Do what? You're going to do what?

My Inner Life

Thank you for reading my story. As you know—*record scratch*

Tempest Bound: ...You didn't really think I'd do that to you guys, did you? I'm hurt, really, I am. That wouldn't be horrible—it'd be inhumane. Which is why I, you know, read it. *shudders*

Anyway, what I'm actually serving up is...quite related. What do I mean by that? Well, I think you'll understand by the end of this chapter.

I mean, prologue.

Thing.

Whatever.

Enjoy! (Or not, 'cause, you know, it's your choice in the end).

BlueboxTimeParadox: My Inner Life? You told me your kind doesn't speak of that tale. Is it that bad? I hope not. That scared me a little. Nice touch with the record scratch, by the way.

Tempest Bound: Shush.

To Salvage a Ruin

It all ends in fire.

Or what I can remember, at least. Are they even memories? Sometime I'm sure they're just dreams, nightmares, really, but of course it wouldn't be so...easy.

The screams are horrible. I'm screaming, too, in the half-remembered dreams, or maybe I'm crying, which would make more sense. I mean, I was only, what, three? Four? I must have been older, because I remember those screams. And the fire. Can't forget the fire—at least, I can't.

It's a wonder no one found me sooner, what with all the screaming and crying I was doing. Maybe they couldn't hear me over the roar of the flames, because when someone did find me, I was ash-covered and—they try to tell me this isn't true, but it's one of the only things I remember clearly—blood-splattered. All that red, red blood.

The red, red blood of my parents.

Mom couldn't put out the fire—I remember that, too, even though she always could. She once saved a too dry forest that had had the misfortune of being struck by lightning. A few warbling notes, that's all it took. She would sing and then there'd be rain, just like that. Was it Dad that said it was as if she had magic smoked into her throat? Must have been, because I don't think anyone else knew besides us three and the forest.

Dad was angry, too, angry with the fire, or I thought so, in my tiny child-head. He could've been angry with me; I can't remember.

And then, quite literally, everything goes up in smoke.

Not all my memories are so fiery. I've had good and nice ones, just like everyone else, but none involve my parents—my birth parents, rather. The woman who found me took me to an orphanage after seeing the bones, and there I stayed until I was old enough.

I was adopted by a merchant, a man by the name of Shae who was getting on in years, who I worked for as soon as I was able, and who needed help with unloading and beating off thieves.

I didn't learn about the second part until it was too late to say 'no'. By then, there was a man on horseback right behind our wagon, drawing his sword. Old man Shae pulled out his own weapon, but it was obvious he wouldn't be able to do much. I threw a rock and surprisingly, it hit the man hard enough—or in the right place—that it scared the horse and he spilled onto the dirt road.

Old man Shae was kind enough to give me a bow for the next time, though.

The old man had also, apparently, developed a reputation because, while he didn't sell wondrous or extravagant merchandise, he was honest and always gave you a good price. I wasn't completely unaware of this fact, even if I was always stuck in the back, firing arrow after arrow into a ruined piece of wood I found on the side of the road when I was fifteen.

One of my favorite memories, though, has to be when I was twelve and still getting used to traveling so much. I was green in the face after eating something I shouldn't have had the previous night at the inn, and I had to stand by the money box while the old man went to answer nature's call.

I was thinking about how great—and by great, I mean somewhere between feeling relieved and feeling disgusted—it would be throw up right then when chattering from up the road caught my attention. The crowd was swelling and talking, shrinking back suddenly as if to avoid touching someone.

And from the midst of the sea of bodies walked a girl my age, followed by at least five fully-armed soldiers. Everyone was bowing and the girl continued to walk, smiling at people and greeting others. I didn't know what was going on.

The girl obviously could tell. She stopped directly in front of me, the stall's table between us. "Hello," she said, smiling sweetly.

I managed a stuttered response.

"My name's Zelda. What's yours?"

"A-Ara," I said, then added hastily, "miss," because I didn't know who this girl was and I had to cover all my bases, at least.

"Nice to meet you, Ara," Zelda said. "I hope to see you again!"

Not entirely sure of what the appropriate response would be, I replied, "Can't wait!"

She just smiled and, with the train of soldiers following, she continued down the street. I don't know why she didn't say anything about how rude I was being. She could.

She's the princess, so of course she could.

When Old man Shae got back, though, I went running because the food finally decided to come back up. And I never had the chance to ask him about the girl.

BlueboxTimeParadox: So, humans, what do you think? Pretty interesting, eh? You can thank Ms. Tempest Bound for that one. Her writing never ceases to amaze me, and you're all lucky that she's representing you!

Tempest Bound: As you guys can probably guess, this will be co-written with Mr. BlueboxTimeParadox here. It's his turn next, actually. Can we get some encouragement, folks? Anyways, yes, this is a redo of sorts of the infamous My Inner Life. Ara is our replacement for Jenna, because Jenna isn't really a LoZ name, is it? Please do not kill me if you did not like it. I have future plans that require my ability to breathe, thank you.

BlueboxTimeParadox: You heard the lady! Don't kill her… yet! Like she said, I will be writing the next chapter, so make sure you're prepared!