Link opened his eyes, uncertain of what he'd been dreaming. There had been shadows, he thought… and a woman. At least, he thought it was a woman. He remembered blue eyes, but the figure had mostly been concealed beneath a gray cloak.
There might have been other people there… but he'd only seen the blue eyed creature.
With a shrug, the young man rose from the bed silently, and began hunting for his sandals in the pre-morning gloom, careful not to wake the others.
Then he remembered what day it was… and sighed.
((()))
Link leaned on his staff, and glanced at the noon sun, from beneath his wide straw hat. On the one hand, it was a rather ugly hat… but it had taken nearly two weeks for Link to get it right enough that it could be worn… so he wore it.
More importantly, it kept the sun off him better than a cloak's hood, because it still let a breeze through… and it wasn't like anyone would see him wearing it, so far from the village. Someone like Ilia. Or Fado.
"Link!" a boy cried out, and the young man swallowed his irritation. It wasn't the preteen's fault. He was trying to help.
"There's something in the trees!" Talo declared, pointing at the forest edge, roughly fifty meters from their position. Link dutifully scanned the foliage, but he didn't see anything…
Talo was "training" with Link today… since Fado was needed for building the new barn. Fado was nearly seven feet tall, and seemed to have some Goron blood (physically impossible) somewhere in his ancestry. As such, he could typically manhandle most timber beams into awkward places without assistance… which made him invaluable for such tasks.
Talo, on the other hand, was just shy of four feet in height, and a little past his tenth birthday. Old enough to start training as a shepherd.
Being a shepherd in Ordon province was different than other places in Hyrule. Most ranches didn't have Ordonian goats… some of which were of near equal size to a small cow… but it was the horns that made them difficult to manage… and their occasional mulishness. They were still a far cry easier to manage than sheep though. Link shuddered at the thought of running herd on a flock of those idiots. The mayor of Soron village had gifted them some two years ago.
Sheep wool was softer than that of their goats… but all seven ewes (and the ram) had managed to drown themselves, get eaten, fall into ravines, or had simply disappeared within a month.
Ordon goats were only mildly domesticated. Link was the leader of this flock… numbering eighteen at the moment. The nanny goats were sticking close to the pair of billy goats… but despite that, there was roughly ten meters of space between each goat as they grazed on the rough foliage this close to the Faron woods. If threatened, the goats would cluster, facing out, to stubbornly menace attackers with a ring of horns.
Which would leave Link, and Talo to harass and drive off whatever predator (on two legs or four) that had decided to attack the flock.
That's not to say an Ordon goat was smart… they just had common sense, and a decent survival instinct. Unlike sheep.
"There it is again!" Talo squeaked, his voice breaking in mid sentence, causing the boy to flush in embarrassment.
"As long as it stays in the trees, it can do as it pleases," Link said. There were a few tribes of bokoblins living in the Faron woods… but the diminutive golbinoids rarely ventured to the forest edge. They'd learned better than to tangle with the villagers… especially Link's uncle, Rusl. As such there was something of an uneasy, unspoken truce in place.
"But, Link, what if they have… bows?" Talo whispered the last word, as if afraid to give the unseen enemy ideas.
"Then I'll take care of it," Link said, patting the pouch of smooth stones tied to his belt, and the leather sling wrapped around his wrist.
Talo frowned, but subsided. For the moment.
The boy wanted to play hero… he didn't want to do anything as boring as shepherding… but occasionally, there was violence in the fields. Link was a poor craftsman, but a very good fighter… and he was patient. Which meant he was often left in charge of unruly kids… some on four legs, and some on two.
Since Talo had never seen a bokoblin before, beyond his father's stories and the occasional drawing, he tended to underestimate the monsters… thinking them little more than fodder for his imaginary stick-sword battles. His very loud, exuberant battles. Especially whenever Beth was around.
Link was very glad that Beth loathed the goats, likely due to nearly being trampled once or twice… and because she couldn't boss them around like the other children.
More importantly, she avoided the goats, and be extension, Link, when he was watching a flock. Which was a relief, in many ways, since the thirteen year old was convinced that she was destined to be Link's wife. And that they would then move to the city, away from the nasty goats… to where people had nice things, and shiny shoes.
Since Beth could not be reasoned with on this topic, Link had taken to simply ignoring the flirtations.
And avoiding her. As well as encouraging Talo's affections for Beth.
Hopefully… something would work.
Something had to work.
((()))
Rusl was sweating in the heat of the small forge, as he continued to work the emerging steel. This wasn't like his normal work, involving recasting broken iron plough and sickle blades, or making hinges and nails. This was a weapon, and the former soldier was using every last scrap of expertise in its forging. He made a sword every year, to send with the tithe of pumpkins, cheese, and wool, to the Royal family. Each year, his work had improved. He held no delusions though about the quality of his work. Rusl's blades were study, functional things, but lacked the grace or imagination of a smith that routinely forged swords.
Still, Rusl had seen his handiwork occasionally worn by a city guard or two, so although clearly not of sufficient quality for the royal guard, they were apparently more than adequate for the rank and file. It was nearly dusk, before the man relented, grudgingly satisfied. All that was left were minor touches… sharpening, wrapping the hilt… assembling a scabbard. Rusl removed the eye patch, and set it next to his work table. Like most smiths, he wore a patch, to protect an eye, incase he made a mistake. That way, at most, he'd lose an eye, and not become blind.
But all of that could wait, for now. It was close to supper time.
((()))
"So, how did Talo do?" Rusl asked, trying to filch a roll from the basket that was still cooling. Uli deftly slapped his wrist with her ladle, not even batting an eye. She was nearly seven months pregnant, and had become… testy.
"He's eager enough… but easily distracted," Link said, carrying a stack of wooden bowls from the cupboard.
Colin, Link's nephew, remained silent, but as always, had a thoughtful look on his face. The eight year old boy was naturally quiet, but unusually observant. As such, he tended to run at the back of any pack Beth organized, unwilling to be out front, even if he was able to keep up with the older boys.
He could also catch more fish in an hour than Link could in a day.
"But is he perceptive?" Rusl asked.
"Perhaps. He claimed to keep seeing something in the trees… but I never noticed anything. He might have just been hoping to go thrash some monsters," Link said, uncertain.
"Well… from what I hear, Fado's still going to be needed for the rest of the week," Rusl said. This time, he succeeded in stealing a roll… but only because he kissed Uli first.
"Rusl. Those are still hot," Uli frowned, though a smile was tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"I work with molten metal all day. I'm sure I'll survive a hot—mph!" Rusl opened his mouth hastily, panting on the hot piece of bread in his mouth, juggling it with his tongue.
"I warned you," Uli sighed.
"She did," Link confirmed, inching closer to the basket of rolls, his stomach rumbling, while the others were distracted by Uncle Rusl's theatrics.
He bit into a roll, and realized Rusl hadn't been exaggerating. They must have just come out of the oven… as in minutes ago. Collin watched his uncle / sort of big brother turn away, and hastily swallow the stolen bread in his mouth. It looked like it hurt.
((()))
Link met Talo several hours before dawn, and prodded the yawning boy along with his staff, as they moved around in the gloomy building that smelled strongly of goat. Eventually, they had the grouchy creatures up and moving in the hour before dawn, this time heading for the south-pass grazing area.
Link carried his breakfast and lunch in his carry-all, slung across his back. Talo likewise, had a canvas bag to hold his own meals for the day. As the sky brightened… Link noticed something sticking out of Talo's bag.
"Talo. Why did you bring your sword?" Link asked.
The boy had carved it from ironwood, just like Link's staff. It had taken him nearly two months to complete… and cracked three of his father's carpentry chisels… which was part of the reason Talo was working off the "dept" to Rusl, for reforging the chisels. (The village didn't really use currency, it operated on a favor/barter system).
"In case I see any more monsters," the boy said, puffing out his chest a little.
"And… we can practice too!" Talo said excited.
"And while we practice, who will watch the goats?" Link asked. Besides, he had come prepared this time. There were other things to do in the fields… which also wouldn't prevent a shepherd from keeping an eye on his surroundings.
When they had the herd positioned in the eastern field to Link's liking (also far from the forest edge Talo had been watching so carefully yesterday, to the exclusion of the goats…) Link pulled out two simple reed flutes. It had only taken him an hour to carve them, last night after supper, with Colin's help.
"Music?" Talo asked, his facing falling a little. He'd been excited at first… thinking Link might teach him how to use a sling.
Link was brave, not stupid. He didn't want Talo anywhere near him, or the goats, with a rock and sling. The wooden sword was bad enough. He'd given Colin a concussion last week by accident, after an errant swing hit Colin in the head. (The boy's sweaty hands had lost hold of the wooden, unwrapped handle, and the blade had gone flying during that swing). Talo had been "training" for several hours by that point, in the midday sun.
Simply put, Talo might train into Link or Rusl's equal eventually… but not as he was now. It would take time, time Link didn't have to spare at the moment. Talo had the energy, and enthusiasm… but lacked anything resembling precision or coordination.
Music was a far simpler, far safer alternative… and Link didn't need his eyes to finger the notes on the flute.
Besides… he felt ill at ease… and wished to keep his eyes open.
Something was not right.
((()))
"That was reckless," the sixteen year old girl snapped, fists planted on her hips, glaring up at the burly man that weighed roughly four or five times what she did. Only some of it was fat… and only Fado was taller than he.
"There wasn't an alternative," Mayor Bo said, fighting to keep his stance calm.
Because she was right. He hadn't been thinking. He should have grabbed the yoke as it went past.
"You're not as young as you used to be," Ilia sighed, her worry turning from anger back to resignation.
"It was just a wagon," Bo said, shrugging… though she thought the gesture might have been slightly stiff.
"It was rolling down hill," Ilia growled.
"Not very quickly… and it was only half loaded," Bo said confidently.
Blocking the wagon cold had hurt his left shoulder though.
Ilia looked set to lay into him again though, her vividly green eyes flashing… when Bo saw an escape.
"Ho, there, Rusl!" Bo called out, enthusiastically, masking his rapid retreat into an attempt to catch up with the man.
"Mayor Bo?" Rusl asked, politely, stopping in mid stride.
"You've shut the smithy up early, I see," Bo said.
The ex-soldier knew what was going on.
But he didn't say anything, or mention the fact that 6'5 Bo was fleeing from his 5'3 daughter.
Good man.
"I feel ill at ease, Mayor… and besides, I've no pressing work at the moment," Rusl said.
Bo finally noticed that the man wasn't carrying a sword and shield to the smithy.
He was wearing them.
"Expecting trouble?" Bo asked, serious, his daughter's ire forgotten.
"I'm not certain…" the soldier said, worried.
Bo had learned to trust Rusl's instincts. They had served the village well so far…
"Bokoblins?" Bo asked.
"I don't think so… but those clouds worry me," Rusl said, pointing to the north horizon.
"It's just a storm," Bo said, squinting. His eyes had never been good at a distance.
"I would agree… but the wind is coming from the south, yet those clouds are slowly approaching… and the air does not smell of rain…" Rusl observed.
Bo didn't know what to make of such a thing.
((()))
"What is it?" the masked creature asked his mate, clinging to the tree limb next to her. A casual observer might mistake him for a child, due to his build and stature… but any that saw his tail, or the green hue of his skin might begin to doubt that assessment… and certainly any that looked into his eyes would know for certain this was no child… as a Kokiri's eyes had no white… instead, the entire orb was colored, save for the black pupil. In this case, blue.
"A… terrible darkness…" Saria, Sage of the Forest whispered. She was the oldest of the Great Deku Tree's surviving children, and had become the guardian of the Kokiri forest with his passing… she was not certain of how long ago. Her people did not mark time as the Hylians did. To them, time was marked as day or night, and spring, summer, fall, or winter… for Kokiri were immortal.
There had been peace in the land for a very long time. No child had fled war during that interim… and the Kokiri's numbers had never been great. Many of her friends had died fighting the Dark Man a long time ago. And no new friends had come to play.
Before many of her oldest friends had died fighting to protect the entirety of the forest from the Dark Man's fire and axes… but the heart of the forest, the Lost Woods, and the place of magic that created kokiri and skull kids could not be burned, could not be felled… so Saria had decided to only protect the Lost Woods. As such, many thought the kokiri gone, as none now protected the majority of the forest edge from logging and other transgressions.
They were simply too few.
To Saria, the seasons of a year were like the hours in a day…
Peace was ending, it seemed. Soon, it would be war.
But the Hylians did not know of this.
She pitied them, for a moment.
But their lives were fleeting things. Only the forest endured.
((()))
To kill you would be… unwise… the creature chuckled. Cloaked in the twilight as it was, Zelda could only catch glimpses of its form; bulging, shrieking eyes… grotesquely long fingers… a mobile, ever questing tongue…
And it was strong. It had ripped Sato in half as easily as a child breaking a loaf of bread… and with the same perverse delight.
"How so?" Zelda asked, sitting upon the throne of her dead mother.
I killed your mother. Her triforce fled. Into you. If I kill you… the monster grumbled, trailing off in irritation. You do not know where my sister is, fool… kill me, and you lose the Triforce of wisdom.
It wanted to kill her. To devour her as it had her comrades. Even now, Zelda could perceive the thoughts and memories being digested, incorporated, twisted, within the creature's gut.
This thing did not feed upon flesh and offal… but on the spirits of its victims.
It was a forbidden magic. An outside magic.
Ah… so you know then… the monster chuckled. The Interloper.
Zelda's gaze spread to the other roaming shadows within the great hall, as if questing for more prey to devour. They were smaller, less intelligent, but no less cruel for it. Like starved dogs.
There is little to sate our hunger within the Twilight… except each other. Only the strongest survived there… the monster said, pacing, circling Zelda.
Zelda heard a woman scream in terror deeper within the castle, before it suddenly cut off wetly. The beasts turned their heads in unison, towards the sound… before returning to their pacing, cheated.
Zelda stood, and walked past the monster, ignoring it. It bristled, and made as if to lash her with its terrible fingers… but thought better of the action.
Zelda stopped before her fallen sword. It's blade had been shattered, snapped in half. The princess (now queen, she supposed), picked up her hilt, and turned to face the monster.
"Your monsters will cease to devour my people. They will cease at once," Zelda commanded sharply.
I broke your blade. A hilt cannot pierce my flesh, the monster laughed.
"No. It cannot," Zelda agreed… before the blade darted to her own throat, "But it can pierce mine," she hissed. The magically keen blade had parted a line of red across her throat, just from the act of touching her skin. It wasn't deep… little more than a scratch. But a flick of her wrist… literally a flick, for that was how little force would be needed, and Zelda's life blood would be pouring out across the stones of the great hall.
The monster froze, staring at her.
You would cease to be. You are not Twili. You will not come back, the monster said, confused.
"You will stop killing my people!" Zelda roared, her voice almost as sharp as her blade. She could not see the results of her actions. The future was hidden from her still.
I do not understand. Why would you do this? If you cease to be, you will not care if I eat your people. You will cease to be…
"Perhaps, but they will not cease to be!" Zelda retorted.
If you cease to be… it will take me longer… but I will find the prize again.
"Then kill me and have done!" Zelda snapped.
The monster considered her for nearly three minutes, alien thoughts flickering behind its orange eyes.
You are… interesting. Unpredictable. I will eat you last, I think…
The monster… it had been stalling.
Strong shadow limbs snared her wrists from behind. She should have put her back to a wall.
The sword was ripped from her hand, she lost a few fingernails in the process.
She had failed.
((()))
Link held up a hand, and Talo gratefully stopped screeching on the flute.
Link slowly turned his head, scanning the herd again.
They were restless… and had begun to clump together.
Something was spooking them. Casually, Link uncoiled the sling from his wrist…
The attack was sudden. Coordinated… almost professional, seven shapes bursting from the tall grass that ran along the river bank that hemmed in this pasture.
The warriors were roughly five feet tall with arms that reached their knees… and they moved with the distinctive arm-swinging movement of their species… but they weren't tribal bokoblins.
These were the more advanced, more intelligent bulblins.
They weren't armed with clubs either… these had leather armor, knives, one-handed axes, and even a shield or two…
Link whistled sharply, and the billies bellowed, tossing their horns.
The shepherd grabbed Talo by the scruff of the neck and ran, plunging into the center of the goats, and climbing up onto a billy goat's back. It hardly noticed him.
"Stay here!" Link shouted in Talo's ear, and the boy hastily nodded, fisting the goat's fur to stay seated.
Link squeezed out past the goats, and seated a rock in his sling. He couldn't throw from within the herd, not with all the goats tossing their heads.
He spun up, let the leather thong circle his head thrice, in a well practiced routine, which sounded like a very irritated hornet, before he released. A goblinoid without a helmet fell, as if it had been cut off at the knees, or poleaxed, instantly sprawling in the grass.
He had time to sling twice more, before the frustrated scouting party turned from their attempts to get at Talo, and instead focused on Link… and it was a scouting party. They were too lightly equipped for a dedicated raid…
They closed with Link. He leaned away from a knife thrust, and brought his loaded sling across his attacker's face, the stone cracking audibly just beneath the monster's eye, probably causing some damage to the underlying bone.
Then Link let go of the sling, and readied his staff. One warrior hacked at him confidentially… only to stare, dumb founded, when the axe did not break the staff. Link rotated his hips as he moved, capitalizing on momentum and leverage, so his counter blow took the axe-wielder off his feet… Link stabbed down with his staff, planting the tip directly into the stunned monster's sternum, cracking more bone, and curling the enemy up into a ball of pain.
That left two uninjured bulblins… followed by a staggering raider, the one Link had struck below the eye.
"Yah!" Talo howled, charging the injured bulblin.
"Talo!" Link barked, his stomach lurching, that little idiot—
Injured didn't mean helpless.
A wooden sword was a poor match against an iron knife.
Link had to pass between the two advancing raiders. He dodged the startled strikes (suffering a graze to his shoulder by a knife).
The injured bulblin had turned to Talo, and was baiting the boy, wilting before the charge, keeping its knife hand hidden from view… to all appearances ready to collapse with the faintest breath of wind.
Talo was too focused on his fantasy.
Then Link's staff swung through the air, held like a claymore in a vicious, two-handed strike that connected solidly with the back of the creature's neck.
Link didn't stop there, he continued the swing, so that it brought him back around, making the two enemies behind him jump back, to avoid the weapon. One lost hold of its swinging axe… either through accident, or design. The airborne weapon struck Link on the hip, somewhat deflected by the layers of cloth there, intended to protect from casual collisions with goat horns. Not axes.
And it hurt.
Link grunted, and charged, bringing his staff up in a high guard. He had greater reach, and more muscle than either of the bulblins… and they knew it.
They were smart.
They ran.
And Link couldn't follow. He planted the staff, and leaned heavily on it, watching the stupid creatures run right for the distant forest.
The bokoblins were territorial. They wouldn't tolerate trespassers.
Then he sat down, heavily, sprawling onto his left side.
"Talo. Get. Ilia," Link growled, pressing down heavily on his wound. It was bleeding, more from the length of the gash than from deepness or severity.
For once, Talo didn't have anything to say. But his eyes were very, very large.
Link was fairly certain he would run the entire way too.
Link just hoped he'd survive after Ilia was finished with him.
A few of the bulblins were groaning and whimpering as they regained some of their senses… but the rest were either unconscious, or dead. The one with the broken sternum was making enough noise for both of them. Link's staff was at hand… if he needed it… but it would hurt to move. He'd wait, to see if it became a problem.
If it did… he'd take care of it.
((()))
"Monsters! Monsters in. The east pasture!" Talo panted, stumbling to a halt in front of Mayor Bo.
"Link?" Bo demanded.
"Hurt. He said. Get Ilia," Talo choked out, looking fit to expire on the spot. Poor lad must have sprinted the whole way.
Ilia burst from Bo's house, fumbling her salves and poultices into her carry-all,
"Hanch, get Epona ready!" she called.
The squint-eyed beekeeper let go of the wheelbarrow he'd been pushing, loaded with pots of honey, nodded, and ran for the stables.
When Ilia said to do something, you did it.
No one argued with Ilia… at least, not more than once.
((()))
Link watched the bulblin closely, hand on his staff. It was starting to realize how close Link was… and it knew the perpetrator of its agony. At the moment, it was content to wallow and moan… but there was a nasty gleam forming in those amber eyes.
Link bared his teeth mirthlessly. He could kill it, if he needed too… but it would hurt him. The gash wasn't closing up. Standing would likely tear what little scab had formed…
But he could do it.
It was simply stupid to do it at this time.
Then Link heard panicked honking noises. He turned his head, and rose up slightly on his elbow, to look over the grasses… and paled.
A bleeding bulblin was scrambling towards Link, having abandoned its weapons, and was using its arms and legs for locomotion. Behind it streamed three or four bokoblins, armed with wooden clubs and loincloths… their ashy, ropy hair bound by leather ties… all in earnest pursuit of the trespasser.
Link scowled, and stood, leaning heavily on his staff to do so… and did not touch his hip. The bulblin tripped over a branch, hidden in the grass… the bokoblins arrived just as it rose… and began to pummel it energetically. The squalling, blubbering creature was quickly killed… though its death was far from swift, or easy. Murder accomplished, the monsters scented the air, noticing Link's scent.
They stared at him silently. His scent was known to them… as was the staff he leaned on. Warily they drew back, unnerved.
Link grinned, showing his teeth.
Many had described that particular smile as predatory.
Wolves had similar smiles… before they tore out their victim's throat.
But the bokoblins could smell Link's blood. This wolf was wounded. Outnumbered…
But still dangerous.
He had not trespassed.
He was a threat… but not to their territory.
The bokoblins reluctantly withdrew, dragging the broken bulblin by the wrists.
They would eat well tonight.
((()))
Ilia slid off Epona's broad back, stumbling a little from the rapid dismount. Link was sitting with his back against a low boulder, staff planted like a flag pole beside him.
"Be careful," Link warned her, using his chin to point out a nearby bulblin, curled in a ball.
Then she saw the blood. Some of it had dried… but it practically covered his right leg, sheeting down from his hip…
"Link…" Ilia breathed, startled.
"It's just a cut… but it won't stop bleeding," he grimaced.
The girl dropped down beside the shepherd. She rummaged in her bag; pulling out pouches of herbs, small pots of ointment, clean bandages, and a sharp knife.
"Don't cut it, look, I can pull it open," Link said hastily, tugging at the slits in the cloth over his hip. He was terrible at repairing clothes… part of the reason his current attire had so many patches.
"Keep pressure on it, I'm not ready," Ilia snapped, pushing his bloody hands back down over the cloth.
She returned to mixing the ointments and some herbs from a pouch into a rather nasty looking unguent.
Link wrinkled his nose at the smell, but said nothing.
Besides, he could see her mouth pressed into a flat, hard line, and her eyes were flashing. She wasn't angry. She was furious.
She always became such, when Link was hurt. Which happened fairly regularly, between his profession, and the situations he invariably found himself in. Typically violent situations.
"Okay. Move your hands," Ilia said, poised over his hip. Link peeled the padded cloth open, revealing the entirety of the wound. In that brief moment, Ilia noted the general shape and quality of the wound, almost abstractly. It was deepest in the valley between hip and belly, before growing shallower, as it followed the curve of the hip, finishing part way down the thigh partway.
"What did this?" Ilia asked, quickly pressing the pieces of ointment smeared cloth down over sections of cut.
Link hissed at the bite of the medicine, but grunted, "Axe."
Ilia pulled Link's bloody legging down, so that she could wind a bandage over the dressing, to secure it. Getting the dressing secured over his hip was more difficult, but possible. By the end of it, her hands were stained red.
"Help me up," Link said. Ilia scowled, but threw one of Link's arms across her shoulders, helping him stand without putting weight on the injured leg. He took his staff, and shrugged off Ilia's help.
"Stay there," he said.
"You aren't walking back," Ilia growled.
"I know," he said, carefully kneeling next to the injured bulblin, keeping his hip straight. He pulled his utility knife from the back of his belt, and slit the monster's throat.
Then he carefully stood.
"That wasn't necessary," Ilia said coldly.
"It was a threat. I took care of it," Link replied, just as coldly.
Ilia glared at the boy she cared so much for… he simply looked back at her calmly. He didn't know. His eyes saw so much of the world… he noticed so many things… rarely surprised by his environment… but he didn't know how she felt.
And that hurt. Because Ilia didn't know if it was because he simply didn't see it… or if it was because he didn't feel as she did… or could not feel as she did.
Ilia helped Link sit on Epona's back, sideways, behind her on the saddle. She kept Epona to little more than a walk, careful not to jostle Link, who's arm as wrapped very tightly around her waist.
He was often cold and heartless when the situation demanded… but she had seen what lay within. He was good. In the unguarded moments, when he didn't have to be strong, to keep others safe… when he could be himself… she had seen him playing with the village children. The honest laughter, the smile…
He killed without hesitation… but only when he believed it necessary. He did not take pleasure in it, she thought… but it did not bother him either.
Mostly though, she was angry with herself.
She could not tell this boy she loved him.
She had loved him since they were children.
She loved him, because he was gentle, at heart.
And she bled for him, because he could not be gentle in this world.