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..|Chapter Two: Hero of Time|..

The days go by uneventfully until the third night—the night I enter Hyrule Field proper. Exiting the Gerudo Valley, there are a few camps of Gannondorf's followers: Lizalfos, spread out in threes and fours. There only seems to be about a dozen of them. Not a threat, I decide, and begin to slip around them. I would have little difficulty defeating them if it came to that, but my people, while we are skilled in the martial arts, do not condone needless fighting. So, I stay to the shadows.

A Lizalfos presumably on guard almost runs into me as I am watching the others, but I am too well trained to be caught so easily. Nimbly, I slip away, unnoticed.

An instant after I allow myself a small smile, three Gerudo are upon me.

We fight a virtually silent battle, and in the end, the three are not enough to bring me down. I am wounded from a sabre slash across my chest but am otherwise in one piece. I first check to see if the Lizalfos heard us and are coming to investigate, but their fires are dimmed, and all but two lookouts seem to be sleeping. Satisfied, I go back to the slain Gerudo and kneel by one of them, inspecting. I have never seen this type before; the women of Gerudo Valley normally wear reds, pinks, or whites, with rare deviations otherwise. These three are garbed entirely in black. I draw back the veil of the one I am examining and find a curious tattoo on the left side of her face, just above the jaw line. I narrow my eyes. I do not like the look of this, or the implications.

I stand, after committing the strange tattoo to memory. I have no time for this now; I must reach the Sacred Meadow before the Hero of Time. I do not wholly trust in him as Zelda seems to, and I want to observe him a little in that sacred place before I teach him the song.

I journey the rest of the night unhindered.

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Had I more time, I would have stopped in Kakariko in the graveyard to pay my respects to my ancestors and the Shadow Temple, but I cannot. Perhaps on the way back. I have not been in Hyrule for several years; my life has taken me beyond the sands. I do not believe in helping the Royal Family anymore, after their great betrayal, but there is a sin of mine I must atone for, and this will help with that.

Pushing such thoughts to the back of my mind, I focus on the task at hand. I straighten on the wall I'm standing on and allow myself a moment's peace before setting out toward the Lost Woods again.

No other monsters in Hyrule Field bar my crossing, and soon I am in the dark of the forest.

||..—..||

I don't remember much of my childhood. My father, my friends, even my mother's face have all faded from my memory, as I never saw much of any of them. I was born in Kakariko Village, as that was the last Sheikah town and outpost, to a nameless Sheikah man and the Sheikah woman who watched over Zelda instead of her own son.

I seem to remember having a few friends who weren't terrified of the red of my eyes. One of them was a falcon that responded to the name Æthis and quickly became my confident. It mattered little that he could not respond in words I understood, though at times I wish he could have. I wish now he was still around, for I long for a familiar presence I could trust, but he flew off on his own life's quest long before mine took me to the sands.

There were others, mostly animals, though one or two other children did not fear me, though their parents always did and soon the children were forbidden to play with the 'demon child'.

But memories serve us no purpose other than to remind us of mistakes we've made so we do not make them again.

The forest, like my mood, is dark around me. It is all too easy to slip in past the monsters and Gannondorf's guards that have invaded the Sacred Meadow. I look down on the remains of the Forest Temple to the empty ground below. Of course, I am early. There was never been a time in my life when I have been late. Everything happens when it is meant to happen; perspective and wishful thinking created the concept of being 'late', as far as I am concerned. I settle my back against a part of the ruin, overgrown with soft, spongy moss, and wait.

||..—..||

Night falls and still I wait for this Hero of Time. My mind dwells on doubts of this current incarnation of the Hero of Time. None of the others survived long enough for me to remember or bother with them. Much as I hope that doesn't happen this time, I still fear failure. I pull a strip of salted meat from my pack and eat. It is cold here, but I am used to the cold nights of the desert, and garbed as I am, none but extreme climates affect me.

I hear him coming a long way off. The dying roars of the Moblins signal the Hero's arrival. I straighten and stretch slowly; nothing I do is rushed if I can help it. Leaning over the edge of the broken stairwell, I can see the Hero of Time enter, though he does not see me. My eyes narrow and I hold my breath as he nears and I am able to get a clear look at his face for the first time.

And I am most unimpressed.

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