Chapter 2

This time, she couldn't even fall asleep.

Papa's going to be so mad, Pamela thought, as she turned over in her sheets. Her father always noticed when she looked tired, and that would make him start asking questions in the morning. Her eyes shifted to look at him. He was fast asleep in the same position he always was. He won't be mad if he can't tell you're tired, though. 'Mad' might be a strong word. Her father would just be worried that she was so exhausted. But he can't find out. He can't.

She'd promised the man that she would bring him food, and yet, she hadn't been able to. I have to do it soon, or else he's going to leave. Pamela kept an eye on her father for a few moments longer, before deciding she'd waited long enough. Now. The little girl slipped out of bed in her night gown. Her feet padded softly as she went up the stairs. He'll think I'm just going out to look at the stars, even if he does wake up.

When she made it to the kitchen, Pamela grabbed a loaf of bread and sliced two pieces free. She added a random assortment of vegetables, and meat she wasn't entirely sure it was okay for her to use. With the sandwich in hand, she slipped on warmer clothes as she walked to the front door. You have to help him, Pamela thought. He seemed so scared and lost. She closed the door behind her, and the nighttime air was crisp. The light pulsated from far above, amongst the stars.

Pamela ran down the steps towards the hill, clinging the sandwich tightly. I can't let the wind blow it away. She passed the sign, and started descending the rungs quickly into the well. "Hello?" Pamela asked. "Are you still here?" She struggled to hold the sandwich while climbing, hoping he wouldn't mind if it had touched the metal a little bit. She couldn't see the bottom yet. "Hello?"

"I'm here." The whisper was as soft as it had been earlier that morning. Her feet hit the bottom of the stone, and she turned to find him in the same spot. He was sitting against the circular wall, in all black garments. She wondered if he'd even moved at all. He still looks sad. His face was hidden, and his head was down.

"I brought you some food," she said, holding out the sandwich as she approached him. He never moved, keeping his head at an angle where he could just barely see her. Pamela tried to speak brightly.

"Thank you," he said after a moment, as she came to stop before him. The man hesitantly rose a milky hand that was no longer gloved, wrapping it around the bread. Pamela found the breath catch in her throat, as she tried to make sure his fingers didn't touch hers. They're like skeletons. He pulled it away to be in front of him, staring at it without actually doing anything. Pamela rose an eyebrow curiously, before she sat on the wall as close to him as she dared.

"You waited for me," she said.

He continued holding the sandwich in his hand, without eating it. "I did."

"I didn't expect you to," she admitted. "You didn't seem to like being near me that much."

"I'm a monster," he explained, as if that was justification.

"You said that last time." Pamela drew her legs up to herself as she had last time, too. What can I say next? She didn't know. And why isn't he eating my sandwich? "Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"Help me?" He seemed genuinely surprised by that, looking up only slightly.

"Yes. You seem really sad."

"Monsters can't be sad."

"Then I guess you're not a monster." There was a long pause after that, but she knew she had to wait for him to speak next. You can't talk too much, she told herself.

"Who else lives with you in that house? Just your dad?" She wasn't sure how to take that question. Is it safe for me to answer it? She thought so. He'd waited down here at the bottom of the well all day for her, and could have attacked at any moment. He could right now, if he wanted to. She was convinced he wasn't a monster.

"Yes."

"What happened to your mother?"

Pamela paused. "Papa said she ran away a long time ago. I don't know where she is. Sometimes, though, I think Papa is lying to me about it." She waited before elaborating. "I don't remember her very well, though. What about your parents?"

"I don't want to talk about that, either," the man said, looking away. "They're not here anymore, so it doesn't matter. They died."

"But the demon didn't bring them back?"

The man shook his head. "They weren't around at the same time. And the demon brought me back to life for his own reasons. He wanted to use me to corrupt the entire world, but a hero slayed him and freed me."

"You sound like you're angry."

"I am angry. The demon brought me back for a reason, and even though that reason was dark, now that he's gone, I don't have a reason to be alive. I... I'm just here, and the hero's gone, and she won't even remember me, and I'm stuck here... " He paused, turning to look at Pamela with his head down again. He seemed to have noticed his own outburst, as well as the wide-eyed girl across the well from him. "I'm sorry. I... I've been doing too much thinking."

"You said, earlier today, that you came here because that's where dead people go," Pamela began. The man's head rose slightly at that. "... Is that true?"

"I want to find a way home," he answered. "And I thought Ikana Canyon would be the best place to look."

"Home?"

"It's a whole different world. But I'm not sure if it's possible for me to get back."

"Why do you want to go home?"

The man took a while to answer that question. "What else am I supposed to do?"

She almost responded by telling him he could live in Clock Town. But he couldn't. If it was true that he was undead, she had no idea how horrific the face beneath the hood was. She didn't even think she wanted to know. That would scare everybody. Pamela strained her mind to think of something. He's all alone, and he has nowhere to go. I don't know how to help him get home. Then, however, she knew what she could do. Pamela smiled.

"I don't know if I can help you go home," she started uncertainly, "but... I can be your friend."

The man turned in her direction again, appearing as tentative as always. "You would be friends with a monster?"

"No," Pamela corrected. "But I would be friends with you."

There was a long moment of silence, and the man eventually returned to the sandwich in his hands. The little girl smiled. "Here," she began, getting to her feet. "I'll let you eat your sandwich and think about it. I can come back in the morning and see what your answer is, okay?" He didn't respond, squeezing the white bread in his hands with his bony fingers. "I really do want to be your friend. I don't have any in Ikana Canyon either, except for my dad."

The man looked up at her the most he ever had before, though his face was still shrouded in darkness. "You don't have to say anything," she said. "Just think about it, and... enjoy the sandwich. It took me five minutes to make it." She turned to the rungs and climbed back to the late night. Pamela was smiling as she ran inside her house to crawl into her cot. I think it worked, she said. I got an adventure and a friend.

The next morning, her father woke up way before she did. She stirred in her cot, only to turn over and find the one opposite her empty. Pamela gasped, sitting up straight in her bed. She paused when she realized there was nothing unusual about that, however, sighing. He just woke up before you, Pamela told herself. Stop freaking out. In fact, she could hear him walking around upstairs.

The little girl laid there for a moment, resting her head back on the pillow as she messed with her hair. It was starting to get longer, so she'd have to start brushing it more often if she didn't want it all matted up. Her father had tried to teach her how to take care of it, but she'd figured it out mostly for herself. I want to grow it out really long, she thought, running her hands through it. She remembered her friend from Clock Town, and how long her hair had been. Hers was beautiful.

Pamela sat up in her bed, but her thoughts were quick to turn back to the mysterious man beneath the well. He still hasn't told me his name. She would have to figure that out eventually; first, they'd have to become friends. He's going to wait for me again. I know he will. Pamela fell to the floor and walked up the steps, smiling and yawning as she saw her father. He had a book of his own open as he sat back in a chair, with an empty plate before him. He looked up from the pages when he saw his daughter.

"You must have slept well last night," her father said, resting the book down as he got to his feet. Pamela nodded her head as she sat at the table, too. She pulled her own book closer, which rested nearby.

"You don't have to make me anything for breakfast, though," Pamela said. "I don't think I'm hungry."

"Are you sure?" her father asked, turning from the open cabinet.

"I'm sure. I'll make a sandwich in a few minutes."

"Well, as long as you eat something." He sat down in the chair across from her, returning to his book.

Pamela absent-mindedly flipped the cover of her book up and down, eying her father as he eagerly read his own. "What are you reading?" she asked.

"A History of the Ikana Family," her father answered. "I don't think you'd like it very much," he added with a smile. The volume looked quite thick and dull, she decided, but she pretended to be a little interested, anyways, as she nodded her head. He never stops working, Pamela thought with a sigh. "What are you reading?"

"'Time's End'," Pamela answered.

"'Time's End?'" her father inquired. "Is that the book I bought you at the Carnival of Time?"

"Sort of," Pamela explained. "You bought me a collection of different fantasy stories. The whole book is called Tales from the Clockworks, but 'Time's End' is just the short story I'm on right now."

"It sounds interesting," her father said. "Probably more interesting than mine." There was another moment of silence, as Pamela's thoughts turned towards the story she had yet to finish. The hero seemed to be in some pretty deep trouble, but she knew he was going to make it to the end, anyways. The hero always makes it to the end, she thought. Though, there was that lingering doubt in her mind that made her want to keep reading. She pulled the book into her lap to continue with the tale.

"Would you be okay if I went to the outpost today?" her father interrupted.

Pamela set the book down again. If you leave, that's a chance for me to see the stranger, she thought immediately. The little girl tried her best to hide her excitement. "What are you going to do?"

"Pick up some gold dust."

"Gold dust?!" Pamela exclaimed, almost dropping her book. Her father talked about it all the time, but it seemed there hadn't been any for a very long while.

"Yep," he smiled. "In exchange for some gray vines. Apparently, there's a new region forming north of Snowhead, and they've recently struck a lot of gold dust. It's the first time we'll have an influx of that in a long time."

"North of Snowhead?" Pamela asked. "That's not possible either!"

"I thought so, too. But there's a new land being formed somewhere out there. I think it's called Zuboraland... or maybe Gaboraland? I'm not sure I can remember which, but two men by those names are planting the seeds for a town just as great as Clock Town."

"That's insane. Maybe we can visit there someday, too."

"When the roads are better," her father said. "That's the main obstacle they're facing right now. Snowhead's been improving a lot these past couple of months, but it's not ready just yet."

Everything's been changing since the light spirit came, Pamela reminded herself. She could recall their own Ikana outpost in her mind. Her father had commissioned the construction of one during their last visit to Clock Town; that way, he wouldn't have to travel all the way to the city every time he wanted to do business. The connections established during that last visit were now kept up to date via letters and deliveries made at that building. While it was usually unmanned, her father kept it locked up, ensuring that there was still a way for drop offs to be made.

"You said yesterday you wanted to go to Clock Town again," her father said, interrupting her train of thought. She didn't respond, turning from her book back to him. "I think I can make that happen." He added a smile. "I said last time by the end of the week, so... does three days from now sound like a good idea to you?"

"Yes!" Pamela exclaimed, jumping to her feet. "That sounds amazing. That's only seventy-two hours."

"We can stay for that long, too. It'd be nice for us to get a break from these canyon walls. Even without undead things, it can get pretty dreary."

Undead things. Pamela gasped. What if the strange man leaves? She knew she had to tell the man before then, or else he might assume she'd abandoned him. The little girl looked to see her father had noticed the reaction. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine," Pamela said. "It's just so close. I can't believe it." His raised eyebrows told her he didn't believe that for a second.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. You know I love visiting there."

He pushed his skeptical look aside, rising from the table. "If you say so. I think I'm going to leave for the outpost in an hour. I want to get some work done first. Do you want to come?"

"No. I think I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" he replied. "You never turn down a trip."

"I know, but I want to finish this," she said, pointing to the book. "Or, the story I'm on right now."

Her father nodded his head uncertainly, before turning to go downstairs. "Well, if you change your mind, let me know."

"Of course, Papa."

She waited until he was a dot on the horizon, but then she waited even longer after that. I have to make sure he's gone for good, Pamela thought. After he was, the girl pulled her feet from the stream to dry them, put on her shoes, and walked to the well. She paused before she went underground, however, looking up to the sky.

It was midday, and the sun was passing behind the brilliant band of colors. The light spirit. In that moment, it danced, as the rainbow seemed to stretch down in an effort to touch the clay. It never quite broke the blue boundary, but the colors extended nonetheless, clinging to the sunlight like beads of water on a vine.

She smiled. I like it when that happens. Every day at noon the sun passed behind the rainbow; she wondered if there would be a word for that soon. There's one for when the moon goes behind the sun. Of course, the moon was gone; the light spirit had taken its place. It was a new kind of eclipse, though it still had no name. Maybe I'll get to name it, she thought. She could name it after herself. A Pamela. Or maybe after her father.

Pamela climbed down the rungs of the ladder as she had twice before. This time, I know exactly how long I have, she told herself. The little girl had until her father returned from the outpost; hopefully, by then, they would have been able to talk enough. The rainbow spear cutting through the clear ocean above faded into a narrow dot, as her shoes hit the stone bottom. However, she'd known something was wrong before she'd finished the descent.

He wasn't there. Pamela took a step forward uncertainly, eying the spot on the wall where he'd last sat. There was only the dark stretch of the underground tunnel system's infinite depths. Her initial instinct was to call out his name, but she realized she didn't know it. Is he down there? Is he hiding in the dark? Is he gone?

She took a step forward, remembering the proposition she'd left him. If he was still there when she came back, it was because he'd accepted her request to be friends. But here he was – gone. Should I go in after him? Pamela didn't think she was brave enough to do that. The little girl stood there uncertainly, staring at the darkness and occasionally looking back at the far away midday. Eventually, she walked to a spot on the wall and sat down. Maybe he'd gone somewhere.

I'll wait. Of course, this could always just be his 'no.' She thought about the face hidden within the hood, though, and his past with a demon. Those thoughts caused the fear to return – of the man she didn't know. It's an adventure, she reminded herself. Was an adventure safe, if it was with a stranger who hid in the shadows? He seems so scared and hurt. You have to help him. Pamela found herself fidgeting with her fingers as she sat and waited. All of this worrying wouldn't matter if he was gone for good.

In spite of that, she waited. The little girl interlocked her fingers and ran them through the dirt on the walls. Then, she got up and paced around, with her eyes constantly darting back to the darkness of the tunnel system. The boredom was laced with a constant fear; it was subtle but poignant. The stranger could return at any moment, and she wanted to be prepared when he did. She continued pacing, wishing she'd brought her book. I want to find out what happens to the hero.

Then, there was the soft shuffling of feet. Pamela rose her head. The tall, dark robe wondered in from the shadows, though he carried something in his hands. The little girl's eyes found that first. It looks like a shield, she thought. The piece of metal wasn't very large, but it was beautifully decorated. Blue and red mixed with gray to form an unknown crest, with a collection of triangles at the center. It still seemed a little heavy, though, as the mysterious stranger held it. Dust was streaked along both sides, broken only where skeletal fingers had rubbed through it.

For a moment, neither spoke. The strange man stopped, as if having been caught red-handed with the shield. The girl took a moment to take in his appearance, as the undead stepped from the shadows. Unexpectedly, a smile crept onto her face. "You came back," she said.

He took a moment to respond, and what may have been a chuckle left his lips. "Yes." The whisper was as soft as it always was. "Why don't we sit down? I've been walking for a while now."

"You can get tired?" Pamela thought. Her heart stopped hammering when the familiarity of their dynamic returned. I don't know why I was afraid. "Do you still get older, too?"

"I'm not sure," he said, as he bent down against the ringed wall. He set the heavy, metal shield before him. "I haven't been undead long enough to find out." Pamela joined him, sitting on her usual spot on the wall.

"You found a shield?" the girl inquired.

"Yes," the stranger said, stroking the metal with a finger. "It belonged to the hero I mentioned earlier."

Her thoughts initially returned to the story she was reading, until she remembered his talk of heroes and demons the day before. He sold his name to a demon, and the demon brought him back to life. But then the hero killed the demon and gave this man his name and freedom back. "Did you meet him at the end of the well?" She was confused. Why would a hero give up his shield?

"No," he replied, sadly. "The hero died in order to slay the demon. He was braver than I ever will be." He paused, deep in thought until he remembered why she'd asked the question in the first place. "He must have left his old shield down here when he found a new one. I made it all the way to the secret entrance to Ikana Castle."

"Did you go in the castle, too?"

"No," the man answered. His face remained hidden in the hood, as always. "Once I found this, I turned back. The shield is from my home. The hero and I were both from the same place."

"That's so sad that he died," Pamela eventually said. She imagined a strong, noble warrior in shining armor, triumphantly stabbing a great monster through the heart. Though, when she saw how small the shield was, she wondered how large the hero truly could have been.

"His death was far sadder than mine."

"But why did you get a second chance, then?" Pamela asked. The stranger rose his head slightly. "What do you think the gods have in store for you?"

"I don't think there's anything left in store for me," he answered immediately. "I'm a leftover. There's nothing left for me to do."

Pamela felt a pang in her chest. It took her a moment to find words, but when she spoke them, they were accompanied with a smile. "At least you have a friend now." She rested back against the wall to look up at the sky, as he laid down the hero's shield. "Tell me about your home. What is it called?"

"Hyrule," he explained. "It's a vast kingdom..." He choked, however, with some realization. Pamela turned back down from the speck of sunlight.

"How did you and the hero get here in the first place?"

"Through magic that I no longer have control over," he explained. "A wooden shard from the clock tower doors would take me back. They are the portal between this world and all others, but the hero must have taken it with him."

"The clock tower doors?" Pamela's mind reeled, but immediately, her mind went to the dancing clock face in Clock Town. "You mean at the bottom of the tower?"

"Yes."

"What makes them so special?"

"They contain special light energy," he said. "I'm not sure we'd be able to find magic like it anywhere else. But I don't know if I'd go home, even if I could."

She knew his undead nature would ostracize him from the people of Clock Town, and realized the same might prove true in Hyrule. Would anyone be able to accept him? She was accepting him, she realized. Surely, there was someone at his home that would welcome him back, even if his parents were dead. "You never know," she began. "Not until you go back..."

"There might be nothing to go back to." The little girl hadn't expected that. The strange man continued. "I came to Termina with the intention of finding something to save Hyrule. The kingdom was doomed to die in a great flood. If I returned..." He swallowed. "... there might be nothing left."

She didn't have anything to say to that. "I'm sorry."

"I am, too. Saving Hyrule came at too great a cost. I'm hopeful the world will find a way to heal, but probably long after I would be able to see it."

"There could be survivors, though," she added. "You never really know."

"Perhaps," he added. "Getting there is impossible, though, so there's no real reason to dwell on it."

Pamela took a long time before she thought of something else to ask. "Why did you go to Ikana Castle in the first place?"

"I was just hoping to find something," he said. "And I did." He gestured towards the shield, which laid face-up between them.

"The hero meant a lot to you, didn't he?'

"He saved me," the stranger responded. "Despite all of the terrible things I did to him, he still saved me." The words caught in his throat, which they were apt to do anyways, given how lightly he spoke. "He had the chance to kill me, with his sword held high over his head... he had the chance to do it. And he didn't take it. He let me live, even though that act of mercy may have cost him his life. I wonder..." He trailed off, to be lost in thought again.

"You wonder what?"

"I wonder if he forgave me." The man glanced at the girl again, without revealing his face. "I never got a chance to speak to him again, and I won't get that opportunity. He was the only person to completely understand me, and... I'd like to think that gave him the chance to forgive me. Even if he did choose to let me live, there's no way I could ever really know." He turned away from the girl. "I know you don't think I'm a monster, but even before I was undead, I did terrible things. Only a true hero could look past that hollow shell I'd become, to find a man."

Silence, at first, was all that followed. "I guess that makes me a hero, then," Pamela smiled. "We're friends, remember?"

The stranger laughed. "I haven't had a friend in a very, very long time."

"Maybe that's why the gods let you live. To find a friend."

"I'm certainly glad I found you," he stated with difficulty. "I thought I'd never speak to another person again."

"Well, as long as you want, you can stay here!" Pamela exclaimed. "We can talk whenever you're around, and maybe one day we'll find a way to get you home. Does that sound like a plan?"

"I'd say so." He paused, however, as if uncertain about something.

"What?" she inquired.

"I... didn't eat your sandwich."

"You didn't?"

"No. I was afraid of what would happen if I did." He looked away. "I haven't... you know... needed to drink or eat anything in a while, so I felt like if I did..."

"It's okay," Pamela said, smiling. "I wouldn't eat or drink if I didn't have to either."

"You wouldn't miss the taste of food?" He turned back to her. "I didn't eat it, but I did taste it... and it tasted pretty good. So I would have eaten it if I could."

"Maybe that can be something we try later. What's your favorite food?"

The man in the cloak laughed. "I've always been a fan of tomato pie."

"Tomato pie?" Pamela asked. "I've never heard of that before. We don't have that here in Termina."

"You do. Except here, it's called pasta bread."

"I love pasta bread!" She stopped, however, momentarily confused. "It's cheese, bread, and tomato sauce, right?"

"Yes, but it always tasted better in Hyrule."

"I'll make you a bet, then," she said, smiling. "If I can make you a tomato pie that tastes better than the pies in Hyrule, you have to try and eat it, to see what happens!"

Despite the darkness that hid his face, she swore she saw a smile deep within the hood. "Deal."