A little later than I hoped it'd be, but here's the update! This chapter picks up right where the other left off, except in present time, just so no one gets confused. xP This story should have one more chapter, two at the most. Also, I've been playing MM lately and all the characters are just perfect. It inspires me to write. :)
HUGE thank you to PinaColadaFox and Guest for reviewing the previous chapter! Both of your reviews made me beyond happy and it meant a lot that y'all liked the story! :D
PinaColadaFox: Sorry for your loss. :( And I really appreciate your kind words (AND YOUR REVIEW YOU'RE SO NICE). I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Guest: I'm honored you'd read my story and welcome back to the LoZ world! It's a lovely place, isn't it? ;)
Chapter Two!
Grog smiled at the memory. It was hard to believe that the girl sitting next to him now had once hated him so much. Yet here she was, making breakfast and smiling like they were old friends who hadn't talked in a while.
The smile she wore, just as fake as it had been all those years ago, left him with a feeling of dread and an anxiety that caused him to lose whatever appetite he'd once had. As of late, her smiles had been sincere, capable of brightening an entire room, nothing at all like the one she was wearing now. Surely nothing could have changed overnight. Unless Romani had done something, but, judging by the way said child was eying her older sister with suspicion, that wasn't the case.
They were all busy talking amongst themselves, feasting on the meal before them when, suddenly, Cremia jumped out of her seat. "Oh! I forgot to open the windows upstairs! Excuse me!" She fled from the room and hurried upstairs, leaving the others staring at one another with wide eyes.
"Romani, darling." It was Mamamu Yan who broke the silence. "Is your sister all right?"
The younger girl shrugged, staring at her plate. "Romani isn't sure. She's been acting this way since last night. Do you think They wiped her brain?"
Mamamu Yan rolled her eyes, taking another bite of her biscuit. "I doubt it."
"It's possible," Romani went on. "They have been after our cows for a while now. They even-"
Grog stopped listening after that, his gaze wandering to the rest of the room - the clock on the wall (he only had fifteen minutes before he had to open the shack), the old furniture, the pictures on a stand across the room.
They were old photos, some from years before Cremia was born and then another of Romani as a baby, wrapped in a blanket in her sister's arms, their parents sitting behind them. Next to it, there was one of Baiko and Barten standing in front of the Milk Bar the day of its official opening.
Grog's eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. No. How could he have forgotten? How clueless could they all be?
Mamamu watched him with caution, stopping Romani mid-sentence. "What is it, hun?"
He glanced back at the picture before turning to face her. "Today is the anniversary of Baiko's death."
Mamamu Yan gasped, placing one hand over her mouth and the other over her heart. "Oh, dear! How could I have forgotten?!" She reached over and pulled Romani close to her, rocking the girl back and forth. "Oh, darling, I am so sorry! I can't imagine what you must be going through!"
The child's response could barely be heard, for the woman was smothering her in the hug, "Romani is fine. Need. Air."
Grog shook his head. "I can't believe it's already been two years. It-"
The door upstairs creaked open and Cremia rejoined the group at the table seconds later, causing Grog to shut up immediately.
Romani, finally freeing herself from Mamamu Yan's death grip, hopped up and raced toward the exit. "Romani is going to practice shooting now!"
Cremia shot her a look. "Be careful!" Romani rolled her eyes.
When Cremia glanced back at everyone else, she was met with two concerned gazes. "What?"
And then Mamamu Yan burst into tears.
Even the air was different that day. It was colder, darker. Romani Ranch wasn't emitting that welcoming glow it'd had for years now. It felt empty, lonely, even as Grog stepped foot onto the path that led to the stable, fifteen minutes before six o'clock.
Clouds covered the gray sky and, from what he'd heard from his grandfather that morning, there would be chances of snow for the next week. He didn't particularly love the idea of colder weather, but the icy climate of Snowhead always blew in this time of year and, while blizzards and snow storms ensued, it could be quite beautiful.
He was hoping to smell another of Baiko and Cremia's home cooked breakfasts as he approached the old farm house, but, instead, he was only greeted with a locked door and a frenetic Mamamu Yan, who was standing behind him, bundled up in layers of blue and white.
"I've knocked and knocked, but no one will come to the door," she explained, brown eyes full concern. "Do you think they're all right?"
Grog studied the house. All the lights were off, the windows closed. Not a sound came from inside, no smoke escaped the chimney. It didn't even resemble the warm home he'd visited so often. In fact, if he didn't know better, he'd say they'd all taken off and abandoned the place.
He turned back to Mamamu Yan, who was shivering beneath her layers. "Did you check the stable already?"
"Yes. They haven't even let the cows into the pasture yet."
His eyebrows furrowed and he watched the air in front of him when he let out a deep breath. "Maybe they're making deliveries to the Milk Bar?"
"Before six o'clock in the morning?" She rolled her eyes. "Face it: Something just isn't right."
And she was correct. They didn't see Baiko, Cremia, or Romani for days. No one entered the house, no one exited. No matter how much they knocked and pleaded, neither Grog nor Mamamu Yan could get a word out of the family. There was no sign they were all right.
Grog had asked Mr. Barten about it one evening, but the man had simply stated he hadn't seen Baiko at all since the last milk delivery, a week ago.
Mamamu Yan was immensely worried about the family, but pretended not to show it, paying more attention to her dogs than usual and advising Grog to do the same with his cuccos. They decided to take turns caring for the cows, who would otherwise be suffering the consequences of a cold winter and no food. "Life must go on," she'd said. "Whatever has happened is serious, but they'll come out when they're ready."
The sun rose and disappeared beyond the horizon, days felt like months, and Termina was soon covered in a thick blanket of snow, flakes falling from the sky, keeping everything in its place.
Milk deliveries were forced to a halt when Mayor Dotour suggested no one leave Clock Town unless absolutely necessary, for blizzards were not only dangerous but quite common this time of year. However, Grog couldn't stand the thought of abandoning the cuccos, the ranch, or Cremia's family. He wouldn't.
So, after leaving a note for Gramps and packing a few things, he set out across Termina Field before dawn and forced his way through the wind and snow, eventually stumbling into Romani Ranch which, as usual, looked deserted.
Although it was barely four o'clock in the morning, he couldn't help but smile when he spotted the tray of food sitting at the doorstep of the family's home. Of course Mamamu Yan had left it there. He could already hear her dogs barking from the racetrack. Apparently she couldn't stay away either.
He had just stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat, about to head over to the Cucco Shack, when he spotted someone trudging through the snow with a lantern halfway across the ranch, only visible thanks to a slight break from the wind.
Dropping his bag next to the house, he started across the field, slowing his footsteps only when he was several yards away from the person. He opened his mouth to speak, but the person - now very clearly a girl - dropped to her knees.
From where he was standing, Grog could hear her cries, see her body shaking. "Why?" she shouted, her lantern going out when it hit the snow covered ground. "Why didn't you tell me?"
This was Cremia, he now realized, as the wind blew her hair back and her voice echoed through the early morning air. It had been just over a week since he'd last seen her, but the distance he felt between them now made it seem like years had passed instead.
She didn't notice him watching as her tears fell and melted tiny spots of snow. She couldn't see his worry, but he could feel her pain. Something terrible had happened.
He took several steps forward, stopping when he was by her side. He didn't speak, for what was there to say? Mere words couldn't change this situation, an explanation on her part wouldn't make things better. But what had happened? Why were they both here, at four o'clock in the morning during a blizzard that was sure to keep Termina frozen for weeks? What was going on?
He watched as she sobbed into the snow, wrapping her arms around herself in a vain attempt to keep warm. "Why did this happen?" she whispered, then, raising her voice once more, she shouted, "Did you think we'd be okay?"
Pausing, she let out a bitter laugh, staring up at the foggy, dark sky. "Well? You were wrong! How does that feel, huh? We're not okay and it's all your fault!" She slammed her fists down onto the ground, sending snow flying all around her, and her voice came out as a whisper once more, "This is all your fault."
Grog watched her as she cried, bent over so far her face was halfway in the snow, the wind blowing harder now. A board, broken probably due to the weather, sat inches away from her head, wet and covered in snowflakes. He took a few steps toward it, crouching before Cremia and reaching for the wood.
"Don't," she said and his hand froze in place. "Go home, Grog."
He turned slowly, studying her face. Had she really just told him to go home?After sleepless nights spent worried about her and long days caring for the cows and keeping Mamamu Yan from breaking into the house, she wanted him to go home? No explanation, no exchange of words, her sole wish was for him to leave?
He stood, pausing for a final second, giving her a chance to open up, a chance to talk to a human being instead of the sky. She never spoke, though, or so much as looked up at him. He was turning to walk away again when the wood from earlier caught his eye once more. There were letters carved into it, he now realized. Glancing back at Cremia, he bent down and picked it up, but his eyes had no time to scan the words before Cremia had jumped up, knocking it out of his hands.
"I said don't!" she shouted, tears still flowing freely from her eyes. He reached to pick it up, but she grabbed his wrist, falling to her knees, refusing to release him. "Please. Don't."
His gaze moved from her to the sign. It lay on top of the snow, several feet away now, but he could make out the words, even from where he was standing. Engraved onto the wood was a message, sweet and written in messy, slanted handwriting like that of a child: Here lies the body of Baiko, a hard-working man who loved all of his family, but especially Romani. We'll miss you, Daddy. Love, Cremia and Romani, but especially Romani.
Grog checked the date. Last week, that was when it'd happened. He'd known something was wrong. Why on earth hadn't he put it together?
He glanced back down at Cremia, who had yet to release his wrist. She was crying harder now. What had she done for the last week, without Baiko there anymore? She looked thinner - had she simply not eaten, or were they out of food? And what about Romani? How was she holding up? Why hadn't they told anyone?
Grog stared at the sign and suddenly the snow felt icier, the wind chilled him to the bone. Baiko was gone. The only person who'd ever given Grog the benefit of the doubt, the only person who'd cared without reason, was gone, leaving behind two incredible daughters who, from the looks of it, couldn't go on without him. What would happen to Romani Ranch, to their family?
He lowered himself down to the ground next to Cremia, placing a hand over hers on his arm. That was all it took. She collapsed into his arms, her body shaking and her cries muffled by his coat. He sat completely still for what felt like a long time before, finally, he pulled his arms up and wrapped them around her. He did his best to comfort her, although he was sure a few awkward pats on the back did nothing to ease her pain.
He wasn't used to this stuff - stuff like girls and crying and emotions. This was a job for her father, not him. But Baiko was no longer here, no longer just a few yards away, there when they needed him. Cremia couldn't call for him when Romani tried to fly away on the cuccos, or when the cows got sick, or when Cremia needed someone to be there for her, like now, as she and Grog sat in the snow, the latter staying completely silent until she cried herself to sleep in his arms and Mamamu Yan approached them with Romani to find out what had happened.
The four of them sat in the snow, huddled together for warmth as they cried and reminisced about the good times they'd shared with Baiko, as well as each other. Nothing was okay, but, for right now, it didn't have to be.
Grog sighed, from where he sat beneath a tree in the Cucco Shack. It had only been two years, but the pain of Baiko's death still stung now as much as it had the day he'd found out. A lot had changed since then - the ranch hadn't been closed down, Cremia and Romani were okay, and the Milk Bar had yet to run out of milk - but this day would always be a hard one for those who worked at Romani Ranch.
After Mamamu Yan's breakdown at breakfast, Cremia had looked a little unsettled, but she'd remained calm and retreated to the stable to send the cows into the pasture. Grog didn't blame her for pretty much running off. There were very few who could handle waterworks from Mamamu Yan, much less on the anniversary of a loved one's passing.
Grog hadn't bothered to find or comfort Cremia. What was there to say? There was nothing he could do to change the past, nothing he could do to take away her pain. Yeah, he missed Baiko, too, but what good would rehashing the past do? He wasn't about to make a scene, the way Mamamu Yan had. No way.
He looked up at the sky just as thunder sounded and a wall of rain came pouring down from above. The cuccos hopped around in surprise, chirping their complaints at him.
He hated days like these, when the rain forced all work at the ranch to a stop and everyone either had to go home or stay locked away in the home of Cremia and Romani until the storm passed.
He stood, the cuccos following him over to the shelter, where they'd all be dry. After making sure they were safe and fed, he locked up the shack and trudged across the wet field to the house. He wasn't sure he was ready to face the sorrow of the household or the possibility of another meltdown from Mamamu. This was already proving to be quite a long day without her antics.
"It doesn't look like the rain will be letting up any time soon," Cremia said the moment he stepped through the doorway. She was standing by the table, already busying herself by sweeping the wooden floor with great care. "This sure puts everything on hold, huh?"
He studied her face. She was stronger now than she'd been two years ago. She wasn't about to fall apart, her smile wouldn't fade. She wasn't going to scream at the sky and she'd never let him see her break down again. However, her eyes spoke more than words could ever say. Even a smile couldn't hide the emptiness, the pain. He looked away.
It would be getting dark soon, anyway. Maybe he could call it a day and spend some time with Gramps for a change. "Well," he began, avoiding that empty gaze of hers, "I'll see you tomorrow."
The door was already halfway open when he froze at the sound of her voice. "Wait, Grog." She didn't sound happy, or frustrated, or even upset. Her voice was calm, steady, but a desperation rang out in it and he couldn't bring himself to turn around just yet. "Don't go home. Please, stay."
He finally turned, slowly, and his eyes met hers once more. There was something there, something that hadn't been there before. What was it?
Almost two years ago, those very eyes had been filled with despair as she ordered him to go home. Now, eyes flickering with hope, she was asking him to stay. A lot had changed in two years.
"I mean," she added quickly when he didn't respond, "it's pouring right now. You're welcome to stay until the skies clear and I can give you a ride back to town."
There was a long pause where he only blinked, his face expressionless.
"You know . . . If you want, that is." She turned away, clearly embarrassed. "Or not. That's fine, too. Mamamu Yan, Romani, and I will be here as well if you change your mind."
A corner of his mouth moved upward, barely enough for her to notice, but it was there. "I'll stay."
Two, simple words and she turned around. Then she smiled, a real smile this time.
I think the next chapter is my favorite. Wait, can authors have favorites? XD It was certainly the most fun to write. Thanks for reading! :D