Zombie Cake

11.0

Treasure and the Hunt

He watched as it splattered down on the concrete. With a quick glance up at me, he looked back down and stared disbelieving at the ground where half of his ice cream cone lay. "That sucks," he'd said, and then he stepped over it. With a little jog, he ran up to meet me.

"You can have some of mine," I said.

He let out a laugh, and then looked back at the cone he'd left behind. "I'm not going to lie," he told me, taking a bite out of my cone, "I seriously thought about just picking that up and eating it for a moment there." I giggled and shook my head, reclaiming my own cone. "Build up that immune system!" he had exclaimed, chuckles breaking through his speech.

But poor Link, eating off the ground really doesn't help much when you're sick as a dog, now does it? He lays in his bed with his face half in a bowl of ramen, as miserable as I was a month before, and I poke at his cheek, saying, "Well, can't blame this one on me," and still chuckling at the memory of his fallen ice cream. It was a brave soldier, that treat, right to the end.

Link groans, and I snag the bowl of ramen out from under him before he pulls his comforter up over his head. "I feel like death," he whines to me. He squirms in his bed some.

"Just stay home tomorrow," I tell him. I set the bowl on the TV tray serving as a nightstand. "Malon and I can manage it. Besides, Grand Illumination is still like two weeks away. We got time."

"I owe Knil," he says, pulling the cover back. There's a red, crescent line across his cheek from where he'd been resting his head on the bowl of soup. Idiot boy, falling asleep in own food.

"Boy," I snap, "I can give you some sick pay, if that's what you're griping about. It won't be your usual weekly pay though."

He opens his mouth to respond when he suddenly sneezes, breaking the dam in his nose. "Ah!" Link panics, flailing around in his blankets, while I crack up. I hurry into the bathroom across the hall and grab a wad of toilet paper for him.

"Here, here," I tell him, laughter shaking my bones as I watch him desperately try to contain the flow of snot.

"I feel like fucking shit," he says, wiping his nose. Whump! The blankets and pillow puff up under the sudden impact of Link's weight. He sniffs miserably and rolls on his side, curling in the winding comforters.

"Might want to clean that mouth," I say. "Been hanging around me too much."

"Aye, Cap'ain," he agrees. "Nobody else on these here high seas with a fouler mouth than you. I'd really hate to take your well-earned title."

"As you should."

"I'll swab the decks another day," he tells me.

"And I'll hold it to you, matie."

…

"Jeez, Zel," Malon gripes with a yawn. "How is it you and Link do this every damn day? I don't even get up as early as we did today at the ranch."

"It's not that bad once you get used to it."

"I knooow," she whines, plopping herself down at one of the bistro tables by the front window. "It's just that it's only twelve-thirty, and I'm so ready to call it a night. It's barely afternoon!" She pulls her eyes to look out the window where the blinding sun bursts into the bakery. "Where is everyone? Seriously."

"It's a Tuesday, Mal," I tell her, "in the middle of December. Not really a hopping time. It'll pick up for dinner, that's for sure."

Malon mumbles in response, still gazing sleepily out the window. She rests her chin on the palm of her hand, leaning on the bistro table. Maybe she shouldn't be in the sun; the redhead might just keel over right then and there. And then where will I be? Fucked. That's what. Sheik's working the pawn shop today.

"Malon."

"Hurr?"

"Mal!" I snap, and she jerks some in the chair. "Don't pass out on me now."

"How about I run and grab us something to eat?"

"How about I run and snag a cat nap?"

Malon frowns at me. "You're terrible." Malon perks up a little, and then she asks, "Do you hear that?"

"What?" I say, straining my ears. "Oh." I scramble through the mess of empty racks, hearing the buzzing noise that caught Malon's attention. Looking at my phone where I'd left on a counter, I tell Malon, "It's my dad."

"Again?"

"Yeah," I grumble and pick it up. "Hello?"

"Zelda?"

"Hey Dad. What's up?"

"I, uh, sent you a card in the mail. Did you get it?"

"No, not yet."

"Well, it's your birthday card. I know it's a bit late." Then he says after a brief pause, "Right?"

Dad. He probably doesn't even remember how old I am. "Yeah. That's okay though." Then: "Thanks."

"So uh... how was your birthday?"

"I mowed the lawn."

"In November?"

"It needed one last trim before the winter started."

"Oh, okay, that's good." Pause. "Anything else going on?"

"Can I call you back later? I'm at work."

"Oh, okay!"

Malon cracks up behind me as I scroll through my missed calls. "You and your dad are so awkward on the phone!" she laughs.

"Yeah, and he only called about five times to tell me he sent me a birthday card."

"Your birthday was last month," Malon states.

I shake my head, walking back up to the front and shoving my phone back into my pocket. "You know him; he probably doesn't even remember his own birthday unless he looks at his driver's license," I sigh.

Malon pulls herself up from the chair and saunters back over to the counter. She opens her mouth to say something but stops when we both hear the buzzing from my pocket. Malon shoots me a knowing grin, and I roll my eyes. Of course, it's my father. Again. What now?

"Hey."

"Hey, I forgot to mention this to you before," he says, as Malon leans in closer to listen in. I move away and turn around, and she pouts at me. "The Taste is going to be happening during the first week of July. I was thinking, if at all possible, that maybe you and Luke-"

"Link."

"What?"

"His name's Link, Dad." Malon snickers behind me.

"Right. Well I was thinking that maybe you and Luke could-"

"Link."

"-Probably get a stand for it. I know you've wanted to do solely cakes, and I thought that this might be a good opportunity for you. Maybe come up with a new cake flavor for it. Plus, you can finally come out and visit your old man."

"Uh, that sounds like an idea, Dad. Thanks. I'll think about it."

"How is Luke-"

"Link."

"-Doing?"

"Sick as dog. He's at home, moping around."

"And Sheik? He isn't getting into too much trouble is he?"

"No. I loaned him some money to go back to school."

"Is he still working at that pawn shop?"

"Yeah. He told me he was able to buy some really cool stuff from some tourist the other day. I haven't seen what it is though."

"Oh that's good."

"Yeah."

I sniff.

"So anything else going on?"

"Dad, I'm at work," I remind him as the bakery's phone goes off. What is with people and the damn phones today? Malon gives me a look. Dear Din! I'm going to get cancer from these things.

"Oh, right! Bye!"

I shove my phone into my pocket and take the one Malon holds out for me, and she turns away to start cutting open Italian bread. I sigh. "Skyloaf, this is Zelda."

"Hey."

"My dad's convinced your name is Luke."

"What?"

"Never mind. What do you want? I hope you aren't calling just to whine for me to come over and make you alphabet soup."

Link doesn't answer right away as he thinks it over. I can hear those rusty gears trying to turn in his brain right now. "That would be pretty sweet," he comments. "But Knil wanted me to call you. He was down by where Dragmire's digging, and says we should go see it."

"What's going on?"

"I dunno. But he thought it was pretty interesting, whatever it was. I guess.

"Also," Link adds, "my sister's coming."

"Aryll?"

"Yeah," he trails. "Scared Grandma; she's been calling me like crazy all day until I was able to get ahold of Aryll. She just kind of flew the coop last night for whatever reason, so I'm going to keep her for a few days before I ship her back down to Ordon."

"Such a nice brother."

"Well, her winter vacation hasn't even started yet. That dummy."

I say, "I'd like to meet Aryll when she gets here."

"That's what I thought." Link sniffles.

"And we can go check out with Knil whatever he thinks is so interesting when you're not honking out so much snot."

"Sounds good," he chirps as brightly as he can in his miserable state. Poor sap. "So about that alphabet soup…"

"If you shut up and leave me alone for the rest of the day, I'll make it that spaghetti fairy stuff you like so much."

"Oh no way!"

"Goodbye, Goober."

Throwing the phone back down on the hook, I look over at Malon. "I'm going to get cancer," I tell her.

"Shit happens," she says dully, sawing away at a loaf of Italian.

…

"Oh, hey, it's you."

"It's-a me-a!" I say, giving Sheik the jazz hands. He doesn't seem amused by it. Jerk. "What're you doing? What're you doing?" I babble, shuffling up to my brother at the counter.

"Paperwork," Sheik replies flatly. "What're you doing?"

"Jazz hands!" And I shake my hands again.

"Really. What's up with my diabolical, cantankerous sister?" he asks, looking back down at the forms on the glass countertop in front of him. He did not even comment on my awesome jazz hands! I can't believe this. The fluorescent lights inside the case illuminate the papers as I peer into the cases to look at the assortment of knives and daggers displayed inside, trying to hide my spite for my brother. "You hardly ever stop by my work."

"You were so stoked about your buy the other day, I wanted to see what exactly it was that you were able to snag," I say. "That and the grocery is like a block away, and I'd promised Link I'd make him some kiddie soup."

Sheik whips his head up, thoughtfulness written all over his face. "You ever think that maybe in another lifetime, you and I really were related?"

"No," I say quickly. "I hope not. I've had enough of you to last me until the end of time."

"Me too," he says, going back to his paperwork.

"I'm glad we're in agreement." I whine, "Can you hurry it up? I wanna seeee!"

Sheik throws his pen down in surrender, and it clatters against the glass. He shoots me an annoyed look when I fist pump my victory. "Give me a minute, and I'll grab it."

"Cool beans."

While Sheik disappears into the backrooms of the pawn shop, I wander around, looking at all the old video games and records on hand in the shop. By the time Sheik comes back, I'm playing with one of those old portable games. "I can't believe you and I thought hopping barrels getting lobbed at us by a gorilla was fun," I say, watching myself get killed as another barrel slams into me. "I give up," I say, and put the game back.

"So what is it?" I ask, walking back over to the counter where Sheik has laid out whatever it is he's bought.

Sheik unrolls the velvet fabric to reveal a sword. "You bought a sword?"

"Not just any sword," Sheik says smugly. "This one dates back to the Force Era. It could have even been worked on the Picori."

"The Picori?" I say with skepticism. "You're telling me that you believe in tiny anthropomorphic mice?"

"Hey, you never know."

"And you made fun of me for believing that somewhere out in the Great Sea are giant octoroks.

"So anyway, why isn't this thing in a museum?"

"The guy originally bought it in an auction," Sheik tells me. The blade shows signs of some tarnishing and a little rust, but otherwise it is in wonderful condition for its age. The purple hilt had been worn down with dirt and grime from the years. "All private owners."

"Neat-o."

Sheik laughs. "You bet it is."

"You haven't talked to my dad lately, have you?" I ask him as he begins to rewrap the sword to put away.

"Nope. You?"

"He was calling me all day."

"Did he finally remember you had a birthday?" he asks, humor in his voice. He picks up the sword and starts to walk away.

"Yeah," I say, chasing after him down the counter. "But he really wanted to tell me that I should consider trying to snag a booth at the Taste."

"The Taste?" Sheik raises an eyebrow. "You're talking about the Taste of Castle Town?"

"What other really great food event is called the Taste?"

"I miss Ribfest," Sheik laments. He shakes his head and turns round on me, "If you go, you gotta bring me back some ribs."

"Ew," I say, my face scrunching in disgust. "It'll be so gross by the time we get back to Kakariko."

"We?"

"I can't run a booth at the freaking Taste by myself, Sheik. I'm going to need Link there with me; you sure as hell can't bake a good cake."

"Right," he sneers and disappears back into the back room. I flip myself around and lean up onto the glass case to wait for him. There are old war propaganda posters leering at me from across the way. Occasionally, it's blotted out by some other customer's fat head.

I jerk away when I suddenly a sharp jab in my back, and I whip around and glare at Sheik. "Sooo… going to the Taste?"

"Dad suggested I come up with a new flavor for it."

Sheik juts his lips out in a duck face as he thinks it over, leaning generously onto the glass counter. "You should," he agrees. "Maybe do something summery?"

"Real descriptive."

"Just think it over. You should do it," Sheik pokes.

I snort. "I have to figure out what to do with the bakery in the meantime, stupid. Did you think of that?" Sheik frowns and averts his eyes. I guess that gives me my answer. I move away from the counter and, lightly, I smack him on his forehead with the heel of my palm, and he bolts up.

"Well, I'm going to head out," I say. "I need to get that soup.

"And remember," I threaten, pointing a finger at him, "don't make me take you fucking daytime court TV."

"But then we can yell and scream at each other and get paid for it."

I jab my finger at him, but Sheik only laughs.

…

He's already outside, sitting on his porch when I get here. Bundled up in sweaters, his signature hat and a scarf, his thin frame looks strangely bulky. Link looks up, the porch light casting glossy streaks in his hair. He offers me a small wave, and then turns his attention back to his hands, fumbling with something. "What're you doing?" I call out to Link, lugging up the groceries. He mumbles something, but across the distance, of course I can't hear him. "What're you doing?" I ask again, coming up on the steps and taking a good look at him in the light. "Aren't you cold?"

Link sniffles and shrugs, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Don't cut yourself," I tell him, watching as the knife he holds in one had slices through a layer of wood. The strip he cuts away curls up, then jumps from the block and down to the small pile of shavings at Link's feet.

"That's why they make finger guards and cut resistant gloves, lady," he says with a weak smirk. He holds up the hand holding the small block of wood and wiggles his fingers sport leather guards over his glove.

"You sure you aren't cold?"

"I'm fine."

"Link."

"It's fine. I haven't been out long anyway."

Sighing, I step through his wood shaving mess and sit down on the other chair on the porch. I set the grocery bag down at my feet, and tapping them a little, I look back at Link. The knife slides through the wood like it's cutting butter, and another curl pops off. Neither of say anything for a long time, Link whittling away at a block of wood, and me watching him go at it. The pile of shavings at his feet steadily grows, one curl or chip at a time. Occasionally, Link will sniffle some, breaking the silence of the night surrounding us.

Finally: "What're you making?" I ask.

"You know, I was starting to respect you for being one of those few people who doesn't ask me what I'm making," he jokes, pausing in his carving to shoot me a sly grin. Then the shavings start popping off the block again.

"I thought you knew I'm not very good at this small talk shit."

Link laughs, careful to keep an eye on the blade in his hand. He studies the chipped block of wood in his hand and then says with some slight hesitation, "A fish. I think." He sniffles.

"You think."

"I think."

"Way to go in it with a game plan, Mason."

"Of course, Nohansen! Always." He snorts to himself, and then sniffs again. A finger rises to rub his nose, but remembering the blade in his hand, Link just goes back to his whittling.

"Need a tissue?"

"I'll be fine."

I push myself out of the chair. "Well, I'm gonna go make your soup. You should really come inside though. It's gotten pretty cold."

Link only shakes his head at me and turns over the chipped block in his hands. "Just a little longer," he yawns.

The storm door clatters open, and Link shuffles in by the time I've finished heating up the soup for him. He mumbles a quiet "Thank you," and he fills himself a bowl after setting down his knife, the wood block and his gloves and guards. Plopping himself down in a chair at the table, I can see the circles under his eyes.

"What do you think about going to Castle Town this summer?"

His brow furrows as shifts around his soup. "What for?" he asks.

"My dad wants me to think about getting a booth at the Taste."

Link pauses in his stirring. "I want to try the hot dogs," he tells me decisively.

I scowl at him. "You sound like Sheik now. He told me to bring him back some ribs."

Link smirks at this and spoons up some of his soup. The spoon clatters back into the bowl when he suddenly starts coughing. When it subsides, he rubs his chest and then gives me a sheepish look. "That would have sucked if I had soup in my mouth," he snickers.

…

Aryll Mason is a small girl, standing a few inches over five feet. She has the same wild blonde hair as Link, but unlike her older brother, she has attempted to tame it by pulling it back into two pigtails. The girl may be tiny, but she certainly has a fierceness to her that I wouldn't want to cross. A nice contrast to Link's docile nature, who also assured me that she was actually very sweet, but standing in front of her and those piercing green eyes, I'm kind of having a hard time peeling back the layers to see that.

Aryll frowns at Link, and he quirks an eyebrow at her. "What?" he asks, sniffing again. Still sick, but he's looking a lot better than he has in days.

"Nothing," she says.

Link frowns at her for a moment before something dawns on him. "Oh, come on!"

Somewhere inside of me, I can feel the bemusement pricking. This'll be good, Intuition tells me. Oh yes.

"I'm using the bathroom," Aryll announces and stomps up the steps to the kitchen and out of the room.

Out of earshot in the lower den of the house, I turn to Link and ask, "What happened?"

"She doesn't really like to see me drinking," Link chuckles, setting the bottle on the table wedged between the two couches. "Funny story, actually."

"What'd you do to her?"

"When I was in high school, my friends invited me out to this party they were having. And since Aryll was going camping with her Girl Scout troop, my grandma told me to go hang out with my friends. I obviously wasn't going to tell her it was a party," he says. A ghost of a smile is on his face as he rubs one hand on his face. "Basically what happened was, we were out on this farm, drinking, and I ended up getting really drunk and wandered out into the woods."

I sputter a little with laughter. "Oh jeez, Link! How'd you find your way back?"

"That's what Aryll doesn't like to remember," he laughs. "I woke up missing a shoe and surrounded by her troop friends in the woods."

"Way to set a standard for yourself," I say, barely containing my own laughter.

"Yup. That's the story how I lost a shoe drunk."

We're still laughing about Link's woodland adventure and consequent rescue by Girl Scouts when Aryll comes back. She looks between us and asks, "What're you laughing about?"

Link smiles cheekily at her. "I was telling Zellie about how your Girl Scout troop found me in the woods," he says, and Aryll frowns at him, her face taking on a slight tint of red.

"Not funny, Link."

"Still embarrassed by it?" he pokes.

"You do realize that I'm known at school as your little sister, right? Meaning, everybody remembers how you got drunk and lost in the woods."

"Oh, pish-posh," Link dismisses. "You'll be in college before you know it with a shit ton of new people who know nothing about me or you."

"Where's Knil at? At least he has some common sense."

"What? My little sister prefers my friend over me?" he pouts, and Aryll smirks at him. "This hurts." He pats at his chest. "Right here, Sis.

"Honestly though, Aryll, if anybody should be embarrassed, it should be me. I lost a perfectly good shoe that day too. I don't know what you've been griping about all these years."

Aryll rolls her eyes at him. "Right.

"I forgot to tell you earlier, but I ran into Mido on my way out of town. He says that he's thinking of making another trip up here soon."

"Really?" Link's head swivels over to me, his eyebrows furrowed. "You didn't get to meet Mido, did you?"

"I don't recall the name."

"Guess not," Link mumbles to himself. Thinking it over, recognition flashes on his face. "Oh! Yeah. When I made the desert mountain was when he was up here last! You just missed him."

"He's a really big grouch," Aryll interjects.

"More prideful than anything," Link counters.

Aryll snorts at her older brother, but I can see the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "How is it that you guys are friends anyway?" she asks. "You never got along in grade school."

"He wasn't that bad…"

When a sheepish look crosses Aryll face as she leans on the back of the couch Link sits on, I can immediately see the relation between her and Link. Even the way her eyes narrow is the exact same. "Link," she prods, "he bullied you until the fourth grade."

"What changed?" I ask. A childish curiosity is eating at me, and I can't help but ask.

Link rubs the back of his neck. "I uh… Well, we got into a fight one day out by the woods," Link says. "It ended when I started choking him."

Link and Aryll snicker, but I only stare at them dumbfounded. "Yeah, I want to make friends with the wimpy kid that kicked my ass."

"Have you ever seen an animal documentary? You know, where like elks fight to be the alpha?" Aryll asks me. "That's what they were like in grade school." She flicks the side of Link's head with her finger, and a "Hey!" comes crying out from Link.

Link grumbles a little, and bashfully rubs the back of his neck again. "But you seriously told Mido of all people where you were going and not your own grandmother?"

"She was going to stop me!" she says with exasperation. "Besides, he caught me at the gas station filling up right before I left."

"Aryll!"

She sticks her tongue out at him.

…

"You guys still working on that icing?" Malon asks as she walks through the door, bells above it jingling away. She sets the bags in her hands down on the bistro tables up front and shrugs off her coat. Link grimaces and slowly turns on his heel. He leans over the trashcan next to the counter and lets the icing in his mouth roll out. "That's really attractive," Malon comments as she walks into the back area of the bakery. "Is it really that bad?"

"Purple actually has a taste," Link says. There's a permanent scrunch in his face from tasting our buttercream concoction.

I say, "Nice teeth."

"I would hope by now that they'd be a lovely shade of purple," he replies.

Malon leans over and peers into the bowl of icing. A shade of doubt lines her face. "Pretty color," she says. She swipes a bare finger into the bowl and then sticks it into her mouth. Her face, too, takes on the scrunch.

"You're lucky we're already trashing this," I tell her.

"Because I stuck my finger in it?"

"Health codes, Malon," I chide.

Malon wipes her finger on her jeans and scowls a little at us. "Yeah, that's definitely gross. What'd you do to it?"

Link says, "It's the food coloring."

The three of us stare at the bowl of buttercream. Simply coloring it is out of the question. All three of us think it tastes disgusting. "And she wants the whole cake purple?" I ask Link.

He shifts on his feet, pulling his gloves off. "The whole thing," he reiterates with a nod. Oh, Nayru. This is a mess. Link folds his arms across his chest.

I heave a sigh. "Well, I hope she likes the taste of berries. Call her up; I'm going to the grocery," I instruct, peeling off the gloves that stick to my skin. I toss them into the trash and head to the back to grab my coat as Link and Malon exchange glances.

"Wait, wait," Link calls, shuffling up behind me. "What're we doing?"

"We can't color it with just some food coloring. It tastes horrible. So the one thing that we can do is to color it naturally with a mixture of some berries. It won't be your typical buttercream," I say with another sigh, "so I need you to call this lady and okay it with her. Otherwise she's not going to have a purple cake, or it'll just taste awful."

Link scratches his head. "Okay," he says simply.

"Got it?" I ask, and I wrap my scarf around my neck.

"I got it, I got it," he mumbles, turning away. He pauses in his step as I dig for my keys, and he whirls around. "Goldfish?"

"Malon just got back with our lunch," I remind him.

"Goldfish?" he asks again.

I roll my eyes. "Fine," I grumble and throw open the back door. "GO CALL HER."

It doesn't take me long to run down to the grocery and get back to the bakery. The roads are basically dead being the day after Grand Illumination. To my surprise though, as I walk into the prep area of the bakery with the supplies in hand, I see Malon up front talking to a regular, although we haven't seen him in a while.

"What's coming out of the oven?" he asks, peering over Malon's shoulder.

"Some French and Italian."

"Oh good! When's it coming out?"

Link and I immediately share a look as Malon tells the guy to hold on while she checks. Throwing down the bags in my hands, I rush to beat Malon to the oven, and I hiss at her. "It has twenty minutes," I say.

"But-"

"Twenty."

Malon throws her hands up. "Okay. Twenty." And she repeats this to the guy; Link and I let out a collective sigh of relief at this, and Link shoots me a thumbs-up.

After he promises to be back, Malon turns round on Link and me. "So… want to let me in? The timer said about five minutes."

"He does this all the time," I snap.

Link blurts, "I almost burned my hand one time for this guy's damn bread."

"If you told him five minutes, he'd be back in five or less, or just stay until the timer went off and make one of us pull a loaf right off the rack," I tell Malon. "We tell him ten or fifteen minutes longer than it actually has so we don't get a burn and because he tends to show up sooner than later."

Malon's mouth thins, and she holds up her hand, studying her palm. "Ouch," she mumbles.

I shake my head. "Anyway, you call that lady about the icing?"

"I did," Link says with a nod. "She says go for it, but she sounded a little unsure about it. I told her trying to color it like we'd had been tasted disgusting too."

"Cool beans, swabbie."

"I want to try this," Malon butts in.

I tell her, "No bare fingers this time," as Link begins to dig through the bags. Of course, he goes straight for the crackers I got him. I swipe it from his hands, saying, "Not now." He gives me a sour look, but grabs all the fruit to wash.

"By the way, Zelda," Malon says, "Sheik and I were talking-"

"Talking or scheming? Because I'm leaning towards scheming."

"What makes you think we're scheming?"

"You're staying with him after I offered you to crash with me!" I say over the sink gushing water. "Don't give me that look, I know it."

"That doesn't constitute scheming."

"Yes, it does." I narrow my eyes at her. "Unless you're sleeping with my brother."

Malon's face wrinkles a little, and I bite back a laugh. "What? NO."

"Good. Because that would be kind of weird." I add: "And not really in your best interest."

"I kind of know that," she says with an eye roll. "And I also know about your idea for going to the Taste."

"More like my dad's. He suggested it."

"Sheik says he'd be willing to take a vacation at the pawn shop to watch the bakery for you."

"So long as I bring him back ribs that will get super disgusting?"

"A cooler and some ice?" Link interjects, setting down all the fruit.

I groan. "Not you too."

"I told you, I wanted hot dogs," he says with a shrug, dumping sugar into the mixer bowl.

"I know, I mean about the ribs. Really?"

Malon says, "Hey, he's offering-"

"For ribs."

"-And I'm offering."

I feel my mouth thin out and my throat tighten a little. "What about the ranch? Don't you have duties there that need to be done? You're already hanging around here for a month."

Malon stiffens a little, and then she admits, "Well, I've been kind of thinking of going off and doing my own thing for a while now." She shrugs. "You know, kind of like Romani. It's why I came here back into October, to talk to her."

"I say hot dogs," Link suggests over the grinding of the mixer.

Malon cracks a smile for him. "And I'll grill the best damn hot dog you'll ever have!"

"Sooo, Zellie!" Link calls. The mixer shuts off. "We going to the Taste?"

I sigh. "Sure. I guess. I'll… uh… I'll talk it all over with Sheik and my dad." Link fist pumps the air, and I turn to Malon. "What do you want out of this?" I ask. There has to be a catch here for all her help.

"Uh, pay. Like what you're giving me now. Duh," she says. "I'm stupid to ask for ribs for my time."

"I'd hope not. I think I have enough idiocy in my life as it is."

"Is that another crack at me?" Link asks, putting the butter into the mixer

I say innocently, "What?"

When Link finally gets the buttercream done, he plops the bowl on the counter and waits for Malon and I to finish dealing with Hot Bread Guy. Each of us armed with a spoon, we peer down into the purple mush in the bowl, glancing at each other. "I've made strawberry buttercream before," I say, "but I'm starting to have my doubts."

"Think of it as wild berry," Malon says.

But the three of us still stare down at the newest icing concoction.

"I dunno," I say.

Link sniffs.

And then, being the most daring and adventurous of the three of us, Link scoops a bit of it up and sticks it into his mouth. Malon and I just watch, but Link surprisingly has a good poker face. "So," Malon begins, "how is it?"

"Not bad, actually."

Malon and I share a glace and then stick our spoons in for a little bit of icing. Huh. No, it's not too bad at all. Alright! Something worked out!

"You got lucky," Malon says. She gives an approving nod to the batch of icing.

"I figured if strawberries can make pink icing, we could somehow make purple."

Malon claps her hands. "So! Can I ice the cake?"

There's a gurgling noise that interrupts her, and Malon and I shoot Link a look. "I'm uh… pretty hungry." He gives me that sheepish look of his. "Can we eat the lunch Mal brought now?"

…

Link's brow furrows, and his mouth thins as we walk up the drive way with dinner in hand. "Didn't I tell you to head back home today?" he asks.

"You did," Aryll confirms, "but it's pretty nice not to see so many trees. I can actually see the sky." She pulls away from the telescope she's set up in the front yard. "Farore's star is really bright tonight. Wanna see?"

"No." Aryll shrugs, and sticks her face back to the telescope, and Link looks at me helplessly. Sheik and I got in trouble together, so I just shrug back, not really knowing what to do. "Aryll," Link pleads. "Please. You need to go home. Grandma's worried sick about you."

"Well, she knows I'm here now that you've told her," she says. The telescope shifts a little away from us and up.

"That doesn't matter," Link tells her. "And you're missing school now."

"Not much, actually. Everyone acts like a bunch of monkeys anyway in my classes."

Link sighs. Giving up on trying to fight her, he saunters across the yard and into the house. I watch as the storm door slowly eases closed. When it clicks shut, Aryll finally speaks to me. "He talks a lot about you, you know," she says.

"I've heard."

"From Knil?"

"Yeah."

"He's pretty weird. So serious, all the time. My grandma never understood how Link and him could be friends." She laughs a little. "It was on his suggestion that Link finally got in a fight with Mido."

I snort. "That would be something I'd like to see. He's so passive."

She pulls back, and her eyes slide over to me. "Trust me, but neither of us really want you to get in our little spat, so if you have anything to say, keep it to yourself."

"He's just worried about it you."

"I know," she says. "And I don't want to hear it from you.

"Oh hey! You can see Nayru's Love!" Aryll waves me over, and I take a hesitant glance back at the house. Shaking my head – like the damn house is going to help or do anything – I take a few steps forward as Aryll moves out of the way.

I stick my eye to the telescope and look through it. Yeah… this sort of thing was never my forte. "I don't see anything but a cluster of stars," I tell her, pulling away. "Like… I can find the Little Dipper, but that's it – or is it the big one? I don't know!" I ramble on. "I can never tell the difference."

"My mom used to point out all the constellations to me," Aryll says softly. Her breath puffs out in front of her face in a misty fog, and her gaze is locked up at the night sky. "The three of us used to spend hours at night, especially in the summer, trying to find them. Link ever tell you that?"

"He doesn't say much about your family." I scratch my head and say, "Well, I mean, he talks about you and your grandmother constantly, but the only thing he's ever said about your parents was that they died."

Aryll looks down. "Oh. I see."

"Honestly, Aryll, you should probably head home soon before Link throws you into your own car and takes you back himself."

She doesn't reply, but shakes her head, and her blonde pigtails go flying. "What's for dinner?" she asks. "I'm kind of hungry."

"Uh, chicken cordon bleu. We've been getting kind of lazy."

She shrugs. "Dinner is dinner. Tell Link that I'm just going to find a few more things, and then I'll pack up and head inside."

"Sure," I stutter and bolt away.

The other blond is clattering away in the kitchen as he throws dinner into the oven. He looks up as he shuts the oven door. "Hey."

"You have a pretty interesting sister," I say.

"She likes stargazing."

I plop myself into one of the chairs around the table. "Good thing Malon decided not to eat with us."

"Yeah," he grunts, and pulls his hat off to run a hand through his hair.

"Link."

"What?" he snaps.

"Link."

He gives me a hard look.

"What do you want to do for the Taste?"

At this his expression melts into confusion, and he asks, "What do you mean?"

"My dad suggested to try out a new cake flavor at the Taste. Sheik did too," I say with a wave of my arm. "Said to do something 'summery'."

Link sits down opposite of me and scratches at the back of his head as he thinks it over. "New flavor, huh?"

"Yup." I say. My hand claps the surface of the table. "I really don't have any idea on where to start with that."

We sit in silence for a while, mulling it over until Aryll breaks the quiet of the house. The doors clatter and click, and she walks through the front room and through the kitchen lugging her telescope. She puts it away in the den off of the kitchen and clambers up the few steps into the kitchen. "How much longer?" she asks, a new cheer in her voice.

"Thinking!" Link groans.

Aryll arches an eyebrow. "About what?" she asks.

"New cake flavor," I reply.

Then it's Aryll, Link and I sitting at the table, our heads on our hands thinking about it. All I can think about is cinnamon and pumpkins – fall crap. I always hated summer. The only disturbance in our thinking is the oven going off, and Link retrieves it. We dig into it in a silence more contemplative than awkward.

"Maybe we should have gotten that macaroni," Link mumbles after as I pick up all the dishes and put them in the dishwasher.

Aryll scoffs at him. "You'd end up playing with it," she says, striding over to the refrigerator. The fridge hums as she opens the freezer.

"Mashed potatoes are a much better medium for sculpting," Link insists.

"Whatever, Brother," she says, pulling out a Popsicle. She tosses the wrapper away and sits back down at the table with me. Link looks hard at the Popsicle in her hand, and noticing, Aryll furrows her brow. "What?" she asks.

Link doesn't say anything, and Aryll shrugs, giving up on him and bites into the Popsicle. "That's it!" he finally shouts, startling us both. Aryll loses a bit of her treat in her lap.

"What?"

"Popsicles!"

I groan and throw my face into my hands. "Link, no more jokes!"

"No, not the jokes!" he babbles. "The flavor!"

"There's no one flavor for Popsicles, Link," I remind him.

"No, but there's a lemonade one!"

"What?"

Aryll works out Link thought process quicker than I do, and says, "He means to make a lemonade cake." Shifting her eyes between us, she adds, "I think."

"Lemonade, huh?" I think it over. Well, we can't just melt some Popsicles. "What if we used a frozen concentrate?"

"There's limeade, too," Aryll interjects.

"Cherry limeade," Link throws in.

The blond siblings list off different combinations of limeade and lemonade. It could be pretty simple, I suppose. "Pink lemonade?" Link says, and at this I perk up a bit.

"Dye the cake pink," I say.

"And green?"

"Green?"

"For limeade," Link says.

"Okay, okay," I say, shaking my hands to get them both to shut up. That's right! Jazz hands! All around! "Here's what we can do: we can make two cake flavors and hope they're not disgusting. We still need icing, so we can make a limeade and lemonade icing, as well as some other flavors."

"Like cherry?"

"Yes, Link, like cherry."

"Raspberry icing with lemonade cake," Aryll suggest.

"Exactly!"

"Zellie. We doing this?"

"Oh hell yeah! We'll give it a shot!" I exclaim, slapping the table with one hand. "That berry icing turned out pretty good today."

"Hoy!" Aryll calls. "Big Brother! Can I stay another day?" she asks him, sugar lining her voice. She gives me a pouty look, and I can see Link's internal battle on trying to resist. "I want to try your cakes," she adds on.

And Link finally relents, unable to deny his little sister. "Sure," he agrees. "But! You have to go back to Grandma's the day after. Got it?"

"Deal!" she squeaks.

Oh. Dear. God. NEVER. AGAIN.

I wrote the majority of this in May, and everything with the exception of the first scene, I hand wrote throughout the month. Took freaking forever! I won't do that again. Nope. The typing part certainly flew by at least.

I spent all of April reworking the details and how I want the story to end as well as a post one-shot plot that ties into said ending. Yes! I am doing another story set after ZC, but I think I'm going to draw it as a comic, which is why I spent so much time working on planning everything. I also printed this out and submitted it to my professor in April; it hit 60,000 words by the time I turned it in and was about 220 pages or so. I printed out Con-Operated and submitted that, and that was about 90 pages at the time and 24,000 words. Yes, I ran out of ink.

If you guys want more info on the one-shot, I will be posting updates about it on my blog, Crab Claws: rumandthesea dot blogspot dot com. It's so far titled "It Tastes Like Purple", a joke I also ended up throwing in this chapter. Also, you guys can see the torture I'm enduring in my computer class as well as a dispatch from the bakery.

Another thing though, is that I've actually based Kakariko off of the town I currently live in, and rather than babble on about it on here, I was thinking of making a post on Crab Claws about it. If you guys are interested in hearing about all the nuttiness about my 400 year old town and how it applies. I'll have to get a good day off to go around and get some pictures too. It's been hot. Muggy. Rainy. Frustrating! I want to go outside! Sound like a plan?

And what is this new Image Manager? Checking it ooouuut.

Anyway! Sorry it took forever to write this, guys; I will see you guys in Coin-Op if you're following that or here next time!

:DD