"Colin, get me my sword!" The boy, more a man than a boy now, hurries to obey the hissed orders, scurrying back into the house, eyes still blurry with the grime of sleep. The house is near silent save for the soft breath of his mother and sister; the latter is asleep in one of the chairs by the fire, her feet curled up under a blanket and slack hands just barely clutching a doll. Careful not to wake her, he snatches the sword from atop the cabinet where it lay safely out of the reach of small hands and darts back outside.

Whatever it was his father had confronted, it appears not to be Ordonian, or even Hylian. From beneath the heavy silken hood of its cloak – the garment is beautiful, with bright blue patterns lacing along it like cracks in ice – its eyes burn with a bright light, orange amber circles with bright blue at their center. Its teeth, just barely visible between its parted lips, are not quite sharp as needles, but certainly appeared intimidating, giving off a soft glow like the glimmer of a dragonfly. In its hand is a bow, and though not nocked, arrows notched with blue feathers and tipped in black stone just barely poke over the edge of its shoulder.

"What do you want, stranger?" Rusl strides down the soft grass of the hilly yard, sword now latched about his hip, a hand on the hilt. Though he is not overtly threatening, Colin knows his father has come to be suspicious of people, whether human or not, wandering into town after dark. Especially if said wanderer was carrying a bow oiled and primed to shoot.

The stranger pauses, his oddly double colored eyes narrowing and widening, as though he could not see properly. Colin decides that it is a he, with wideness in the shoulders and the narrowness of the hips. But the stranger is awfully short, shorter even than him, and as much as he has grown, Colin is no giant.

"I said, what are you doing all the way out in here in Ordon?" His father tightens his grip on the hilt of his sword, just barely lifting it from its sheath. The stranger pauses, eyes darting to the sword slowly emerging from its leather casing. He sees the danger in Rusl's movement, but he still remains silent. The rustling of bushes in the night breezes is the only sound for several moments, when suddenly the stranger whips an arrow from his quiver and nocks it. The blue feathers leave streaks of light in the air for a few seconds before they fade to blackness.

The arrow soars just over Rusl's shoulder and both he and his son dive out of the way, crashing into the dust beside the path to the forest. Rusl bellows with fury as he struggles to his feet, sword completely free from its sheath. He charges at the stranger, swinging the blade with a good amount of strength. The stranger just manages to dodge the sharp edge, stumbling backwards as his feet hit the ground. The expression on his near hidden features are not vicious, however, only confused and dazed, as though he has received several blows in the past few moments.

"I will not take monsters wandering into my town and threatening our safety!" Rusl surges forward again, this time thrusting the blade in a stab. This time, the blade grazes the stranger's side, and he releases a very loud hissing gasp. The sword tears the gorgeous silk garment and draws blood, red as any human's, and he tumbles backward to the grass, clutching the wound as crimson stains his skin.
Rusl moves to deal the finishing blow, but the stranger seems to be two steps ahead of him. He pulls something from the grass besides him and puts it to his lips. A few soft notes sound out and suddenly a bird calls in the distance, despite the time of night. A hawk, talons black as the sky, lands on the stranger's outstretched arm and takes off again just as quickly as the stranger directs it at Rusl. The bird screeches as it digs its talons into the man's flesh, and he drops the sword.

"Farore, Nayru, and Din!" The cry echoed loud enough to turn lights in some houses, and Colin scuttles to his father's side to pull the creature off of him. It is big enough to give him trouble, but he pries the bird's claws from Rusl's shoulder, who rolls to his feet as soon as the hawk has flown off. "Where did he get to? Is he still here?"

The only remnant of the stranger is a stain of red on the ground, and Colin shrugs. "I think you scared him off, Pa. It's lucky you only got some bird claws in you. That arrow near shot your ear off."

"Yeah, he was fast." Rusl wipes his blade on the grass and sheathes it. "I think we'll have to have patrols again. I know the problems in Hyrule don't usually spread this far, but it's just like seven years ago."

Colin nods noncommittally, glancing off in the direction of the forest. Why only one, though? If someone had conquered Hyrule – again! – then they would more than likely send a brigade after them, considering what kind of heroes came from Ordon. Though to be fair, Link had been Hylian.

Pulling his head from his own thoughts, Colin realizes that his father has already made his way back to the house, and is conferring with his wife in low tones. She stands on the porch with Orial in her arms, worried expression on her face. Whatever the stranger had wanted, he had been too close to the house for comfort, too close to Colin's family for comfort. The last thing he wants is a repeat of last time, though his sword skills still do not measure up to his father's, and he has to stop his horse to shoot any target. But this was only one occurrence, and what chance was there that it would reach them again?

"Pa, do you mind if I go check the fence at the edge of the woods?" Colin adjusts his belt as he sprints up the hill to his house, pausing to give his mother a quick hug. "I want to see if it's been damaged."

"Go ahead, just be sure to take your bow." Rusl gestures to the wooden bow hung from the hook by the door, and Colin obliges, strapping the quiver across his shoulder. The smell of oiled wood sets the back of his neck to tingling, and the feel of the soft leather of the quiver strap calms his nerves ever so slightly. "And why don't you take the stream cave through the spring, hm? I don't want you going the main way unless you have to. There might be more of…whatever that was and you're not good enough with the bow or the sword to go against too many at once."

"But Pa, I just dried these shoes out the other day!"

"No buts, listen to your father." His mother kisses him on the forehead, being careful not to wake Orial. "You can put them in front of the fire later, alright?"

"Alright." He waves a goodbye and trampled down the steps and across the yard of wildflowers in the front of their house. Approaching the cave, though, something catches the very corner of his vision and he spins to root through the grass just near the back of his house.

The blue fletched arrow had found home in the breast of the keese with perfect accuracy, shattering breast bone and nearly blowing the whole thing apart. Even in death, the thing's face is like a skull, teeth long as Colin's little finger. Black mud seeps from the creature's wound, and he tugs the arrow from corpse.

Perhaps this stranger has different intentions than he first thought.