The lush forests of Hyrule had long served as the southern borderlands, the thickets and trees like a green mist to fog the view of the lands beyond. In early times, many a man had lost their way, wandering lonely in a sea of foliage with nothing but haunting, childlike laughter to guide them. Legends spoke of the children of the forest, their spirits still lingering about the grottos as their shadows skittered across the fractured light from the canopy above. No man had ever proven their existence, but many Hylians held such superstitions, tucking their children early into bed for fear an unruly child may wander off to heed the call of the woods—a subtle and ghostly panflute luring them to where the masked children gathered to play.
Settlements at the forest's edge bore some courage to such tales, small villages leading peaceful lives there, and over the years they saw that the old stories surrounding Faron's domain were obscure though many fold. But among the ranching families and the denizens of huts and cottages scattered about the woodland front, even those who did not hold such things as true still found their doors adorned with charms, warding off the mischievous spirits who dwelled there with them.
Such was true of Coro's small hut as well, and much like his sister's abode, a plume of vibrant feathers hung upon his door as well, collected neatly in an arrangement reminiscent of a dream catcher.
After a long way coming, following the rivers with the talent of Iza to keep them above water, Link and Ashei had finally made it to the forest as planned. After a fairly brief set of explanations, Ashei's ruse of motherhood still holding safely enough, the laid back Coro had been far easier to sway aid from, much to Iza's chagrin. The earlier shocks she'd received had put her fuse rather short this day, and the big-haired brunette had made to keep familial reunions short and her return home swift, though not before a short spat ensued between siblings. More the fault of the elder as the younger and more mellow of the two simply accepted her irritations with a few shrugs, the rancher and his expectant 'wife-to-be' were quickly left to the care of the lantern salesman, who—quite the opposite of his sister—seemed to have no qualms at all with the sudden imposition.
When the orange hues of twilight came shimmering down through the broken shade of the trees, the light and warmth of a fire beckoned a welcome start to the evening… far more so than the bubbling broth it heated. Conversation was forced between them all from upon shortly cropped stumps, the uncomfortable seating only lending more awkward strain to the gathering as normality was feigned with their laid-back host, and supper politely declined. Needless to say, by the time that twilight had faded into a lonely and bruised looking darkness, Link's false identity had been fleshed out to a degree almost as painful as a black eye of the same shade. Unable to stand it any longer, the rancher was quick to unfurl his sleeping roll and put the persona to rest.
Laying half curled in the somewhat stiff folds of his makeshift bed, steely eyes traced the slim outline of a nearby weed with mute boredom, his handsome features pensive and distant. The warmth of the dying fire seeped into his back, like a balm upon tired muscles to soothe, and though such comforts had lulled him before, tonight it seemed his eyes were immune to slumbers' charm. He had been there an hour now, the rich scent of the earthy forest floor filling his lungs and the sporadic snores of Coro pulling the odd twitch from his ears. Somewhere beneath him, hidden by fabric, a small rock had pressed itself into his ribs alongside grains of dirt and sand that saw his skin itch.
Normally, such trifles were simply part of the camping experience, and he had dealt with them without fuss; minor inconveniences that came with a traveling trade. But as he lay there with an aching body and an active mind, he found himself lacking the distractions needed to ignore them.
Almost habitually, his gaze flicked upward to scan the stars and find his position under them, a sense of bearing that needed constant satisfaction—one he'd been stripped of upon the mountain peaks, and reflexively sought to regain. It took him only a moment to spot it, the constellation that showed the way north, and with a languid slump he found himself on his back to search the heavens more closely. His eyes darted between the abstracts shapes given to the stars, mapping them out to form a rough approximation of distances in his mind.
The Hunter to the far west…The Virgin over there, by the North star…he paused, granting a glance to Coro, the afro wearing boy's breathing seeming to stop for a notable length of time before starting up again with a loud snort. Link couldn't help but squint when the calculations in his head came together, his brow furrowing as a piercing sense of isolation crawled over him.
…About three miles south of southeast, counting the grazing plain; he cringed within. His point of reference had still stayed true through the ordeal, though he'd tried to put any wish of returning to the Ranch behind him. I'm only a stone's throw away from home.
A silent sigh escaped him and with it he allowed himself to move, pulling himself to sit as his elbow leaned upon a knee, the stiff cover of his sleeping roll bunched about his hips. Was that really what had driven him here? Perhaps his intuition of this place had been nothing more than his unconscious desire to return to his sister, as close as was safe to the whinny of the horses and the green grass of home. He found himself drifting again, pieces of his mind warring amongst themselves as he simply watched on, dancing to the strings of his own inner grief weighed against what was right.
But no sooner did the thought occur did he brush it to one side, a tentative look given to the back of his hand, eyeing the odd birthmark held there. It was hard to imagine the tiny triangle of pigment lighting up to glow brightly, so much so it could signal allies in the dark tunnels of a dungeon. Even now, he could feel the subtle pulse of it in his veins; the light Ashei had seen was in him still, a strange force that consumed him in his most desperate of moments. He knew nothing of it, though he'd tried in vain to call it forth again several times since his escape; if only he could figure out how to control it at will somehow, he may be able to decipher what it was. It eluded him so delicately, whispering strength enough to keep his legs moving through snow and his head above rapids, but whenever he reached out to take hold of it, curious, it drew back and away again.
It was that light which drove him here to the forests, he recalled, dispelling the shadows of self doubt that haunted his mind; it compelled him here, ordering him forth with a strong yearning for leaves rather than snowflakes. It was a powerful ache when he was so far abroad as Snowpeak, and such a soft lilt now that he was here, Link had scarcely remembered it over the haze of traveling. His hand lifted to brush aside blonde bangs as he shifted again, leaning forward to right himself and step quietly from the warmth of his temporary bed, cold earth getting caught in his toes.
Whatever it was in this vast forest the Light had beckoned, he knew he would eventually find, but only if he kept moving.
Without a weapon to his person or a destination in mind, he began to walk away from the small hut, slipping barefoot into the lines of shadow cast by the trees. He was as silent as the animal he was named for so as not to disturb the others, and as if stalking a new scent, steel blue eyes sharpened effortlessly to track his surrounds in the dark; focused and aware, with careful steps to carry him. Ducking under low branches and mindful of fallen logs, each step slowly brought out the Wolf he'd tucked away as the forest swallowed his form.
Not even the single chirp of a cricket went amiss in the array of night-dulled greenery, spider webs found by their shimmer in the moonlight and avoided with fluid ease. His fingertips breezed the rough textures of bark and the smooth surfaces of leaves, his breath fogging out before him as he wandered like so many other men gone astray, though the boy knew he was not lost—how could he be, he didn't know where he was headed in the first place.
Though such a thought might serve to discourage any other, Link felt his steps growing faster. Fog had begun to curl about the dense roots of the forest floor, a chill swimming in it to nip at his ankles; feet beginning to strike the dirt in quick succession. The world was in motion around him as muscle memory took hold, spurring his body into a sprint as the edges of his vision blurred. Trunks of all shapes and sizes rushed past him, stray leaves whipping his skin with tiny bursts of discomfort and his short hair was blown back by the speed to pick up the odd piece of one.
He was running like a wild man born and raised here, heart beating with a strong and steady pulse as he heard the snaps of twigs underfoot, and despite himself, a strange grin began to spread across his lips. Here, just for the moment, he was allowed precious freedom in a world that sought to cage him—no destination in mind, free to roam as he pleased without another soul to be found, ducking and weaving between the limbs of the woodland. There were no cries of traitor to be heard, no eyes to watch and condemn. Branches seemed to claw out at him, taking a swipe as if to halt the boy mid stride, but not a one could touch him. There was nothing to hold him back here; no rock he couldn't leap, the arc of his step swiftly taking him over the roots as they dug deep into the soil to trip him. He knew it all so well somehow, the fear and superstition stripped from his mind as he challenged this place to throw him astray, chasing down any shadow to catch his eye with predatory reflexes.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so unrestricted—it reminded him so sweetly that his actions were not always beyond his control or governed by external reasons.
From between the wide leaves ahead, a moonlit shimmer stole his acute gaze, fixing his new direction as he all but leapt to meet it, the rush of wind around him distorting the tranquil sound of a waterfall nearby. Before his momentum could be altered he felt the soft earth dip beneath his feet, the quick sensation of damp dirt seeping between his toes before a loud splash saw his legs consumed by spring waters. It slowed him immediately, the pleasurable sensation of the water lapping about his thighs as it soaked loose pants, spray from his bursting movement dusting his torso with a refreshing mist. Finally, the boy halted after wading further in, panting in a controlled and steady timing as he stared wide eyed up at the waterfall, crystalline as it cascaded in a white rush down a rocky plateau, holding the moon's camber in its flow.
When he was a child, he had explored the world around him with such enthusiasm, running for the thrill of it, climbing the highest trees and darkest caves he could find. He would search high and low, not knowing what he sought until he found it; rupees dropped in the grass from passersby, the perfect stick to make a sword out of, or a secret spot that only he knew about. As he stood there staring at the pristine vista around himself, he could feel that tiny piece of him somehow returned—he was, for such a simple and innocuous thing, happy in that moment. The boy he was hadn't died with his uncle after all, it seemed, and Link felt a pang of guilt for burying him so soon in his grief.
He'd discarded his childhood so quickly, feeling it was a necessary sacrifice to survive in the tough times ahead, those lazy and carefree days holding no use for the future. But the following years had only seen him corroded by cynicism, growing into a man that would struggle, gaining little reward for all his toil, only to find that he could not enjoy it as he once would have. How many opportunities to feel contentment had he missed, he wondered, blinkered as he was by necessity and bleak absolutes since Tarron had died? Link had resigned himself to the fact his life had become, more or less, a means to an end; only able to provide a scapegoat for their family's suffering, to ensure his sister's happiness where his own had been stolen.
It was bittersweet and strange, almost humbling, to learn that he was wrong.
It came bubbling up from his chest before he even noticed it, a liberated and refreshing laughter, childish and short of breath as the wonder of Faron's lands seemed to capture his affections. He threw his arms up to fall back into the water, cold against his heated flesh and cleansing new scars upon his back, let by the lash. It stole the burn from the still healing wound from Badon's heel-blade as it swam about the stitching, and he could almost feel his internal worry mellowed, replaced by the calming lap of the river as it consoled him.
He could smell oak upon the breeze, and drawing deep, he let go of a contented sigh and with it, much of his tension. As Link allowed himself to float idle, basking in some relief—and the first real bath he'd had since Telma had dressed him as a woman—he couldn't help but recall the strange little bridge and the flow he'd felt underfoot earlier that day. It was odd, he mused, how much water could change while also remaining the same; it could rage aggressively, the undertow clawing at your small canoe with a want to consume you, just as the waters could be still and calm, reflective and restorative with a healing and kindly nature.
It was nothing like Iza's river; the agitated waterway that threatened to drag one under and smash them against its stones, and yet, both this spring and that vicious river were water from the same source. Link, unlike the afro wearing brunette, much preferred these waters further down the way. He didn't doubt that they would one day swallow the flimsy structure of the Boat Hire, wooden supports eaten away slowly by the upper river's underlying rage until it simply collapsed. He smirked to himself a little at the thought, a small chuckle breaking free.
Perhaps that'd be for the best, though, he conceded cheekily, Iza's safety regulations aren't exactly standard… She really should just go back to fishing.
Shaking his head some, wet wisps of his hair sweeping to cling to his face, he couldn't help but think of the way Iza had ranted the whole journey about 'life up in the boonies', as if she was cursed with the worst possible luck, all the while their canoe came within inches of jagged rocks as he and Ashei held on for dear life. So distracted by the shortcomings of it all was she, not once did the sheer fortune of surviving her 'rapid ride' enter Iza's mind—she made her home and business on one of the most fearsome waterways in the land, able to tame it with an uncanny skill, and wondered why she struggled to make ends meet. It was obvious to Link, after the harrowing journey, that the reason was simply because paying Iza for her service was like paying the ferryman in the underworld; her river was one of impending death no sane man wanted to travel.
But the brunette, who did not fear it and would never understand why anybody else did, seemed blissfully unaware of the danger and her own incredible providence as she careened through rapids at breakneck speeds. And perhaps that was exactly why she was the only one it spared, he realized, as ironic humour struck him with another hiccup of laughter.
She can't see the forest for the trees.
And neither could he, in these last years. He'd marched through his life as if it were only worth the money he earned, the meager scraps of it making him an expendable person that didn't deserve happiness—he'd dropped the crate that had escalated into a murder. A guilt complex had wormed its way into his soul somewhere along the line, and he lashed himself with its whips, denying himself happiness as far as he was able. He'd built up their business and stepped into Tarron's shoes so adeptly, everyone around him thought him a world wonder for his strength and ingenuity. It wasn't quite what it had been, no, and the jeers did not fade completely, but the reality of it was as Malinna had said on the night of the Gala—they got by. Instead of taking credit where it was due, Link had shunned it to continue punishing himself for another's misdeeds, creating his own suffering and concealing it within his hardships. Instead of being grateful for what was left to him, he only mourned what he'd had.
Now, he was forced to realize it—he was just like the river, winding through the lands of his life with different flows and temperaments. He'd lived tossed about by rapids, when the calm waters waited for him further downstream. He didn't need the ranch to be happy, fond of it though he'd always be; Tarron could've sold off every asset to their names, along with the clothes on their backs, and taken his children to live nude in the wilderness for all he cared then. They would have simply been happy to have each other. Link had lost sight of that in his fixation on success, and for all the praise of how alike he and Tarron were—how he would be proud—the boy could see now just how big the difference was between a boy and a man.
So long as he had Malinna, so long as he had Ashei and friends who cared for him, he had a home that could never be lost no matter how large the debts he owed.
A gentle smile curved his lips, his reticent drifting betraying the internal healing he'd managed as the kindly waters washed away such burdens. "I guess it's true…" he mused quietly, gaze flickering between stars. "…You really can't step in the same river twice."
He felt another small chuckle coming on, but it was not his laughter that rang out in the still night air; a childish snicker sounded with an eerie tone, and Link snapped to attention, floundering a little, splashing wide as his feet found the riverbed beneath. Such a quick movement out of a relaxed state left him a moment of dizziness as his eyes were widened to the dark, frantic in their search of the sound's origin.
"Who's there?" he called blindly, ears twitching as they heard rustling and what he swore were the clatter of wooden beads. Turning this way and that, he was met with only the splashing of his legs as they moved, and pausing, he considered that perhaps he had imagined it. Bashful, he pressed his palm to his forehead, letting slip a weary sigh. "...I really should get some sleep… I'm going to make myself paranoid out here…"
Whistling through the air it came, aimed true and launched with great speed, and Link felt it land before he could react. A sharp sting upon the back of his neck caused him to wince, the tiny projectile sure to leave a red mark where it hit. Reflexive, his hand shot to clamp over the abused spot, darting back out in front of his face to assure him there was no blood. It hadn't been a dart of any sort, at least, and with a sudden scowl the rancher turned to scan behind him to find the culprit. Almost immediately his eyes snapped up to focus on the crest of the waterfall, a small silhouette clearly standing there with no intent to hide, a belligerent posture taken up.
The voice of a child drifted down over the sound of the water, cold though somehow familiar, and though Link strained to make out how this was in the darkness, his eyes adjusted to find recognition impossible—whoever they were, a mask covered their face.
"You're lucky I remember the way you smell, or I'd have treated you like any other big person. You got so big your fairy left you, I see… Heh heh… serves you right for leaving all your friends behind."
Caught off guard, the rancher could only stare up at the strange child above, brows furrowed in confusion and suspicion. The small figure looked as if he wore rags, tattered and oddly coloured to be held in place with a strange belt of wooden loops, with a large woven hat of stripped barks. It took a few seconds for him to process what it had said to him, running over the words in his mind a few times in some attempt to decipher the cryptic message. Tense, he rubbed tenderly at the back of his neck, watching this new arrival with a hawk-like intensity as he sent an incredulous glare its way.
"…I don't know what you're talking about." He grumbled low, still more annoyed about the attack than anything, though the imp's choice of words rubbed him the wrong way. "Whatever that was you fired at me, don't do it again. A kid like you should be in bed right now, not all the way out in the forest playing pretend and harassing strangers."
Holding a chastising scowl, Link watched the strange child as it flinched, its head cocking back as if his response came as something of a shock. Silently cursing the mask for hiding the expression behind it, steely eyes toke note of the immediate anger that stole the imp's form, escalating quickly as they began to shake. Small fists balled at the child's sides, and just as the rancher felt an urge to roll his eyes at the tantrum to come, the rustling sound of leaves and wooden beads returned.
As if he was nothing more than a mirage, the child vanished before Link's very eyes; fading quickly away into the shadow. Stunned, the boy would blink, his shoulders tensing defensively in response as he was left frantically searching for them once again. A strange chill crawled down his spine when from the corner of his mind, old stories came floating back with a foreboding similarity—certainly, that was no mere child he had witnessed, and there were legends aplenty to attest to the threats of the forest.
Cautious, Link was frozen in place as he was left with only the rushing sound of the waterfall, steely eyes darting about with concern. He had angered one of the spirits of this place, and Gods only knew what that could mean. Slow movement saw him wading back toward the river's edge, as if he walked upon shattered glass, as he quickly decided it was high time to return to the hut. But as his toes came to squish into the soft mud of the bank, the rustling returned with a small whirl of wind around him, whipping autumn leaves about his body with tiny cutting sensations as the boy gave out a small shriek. Dirt and dust swept his skin with discomfort and it was all Link could do to raise his arms before his face, protecting his eyes as he cringed away with a tiny flicker of panic surging through him. Though just as suddenly as it came, the assault ceased entirely, leaves and twig fragments stricken from the air around him to fall harmlessly to the ground.
When again his eyes opened to peer through the gap of his forearms, the rancher found himself face to face with the imp once more as it stood upon the bank, a piercing yellow gaze watching him through the mask—it was a monstrous thing for any child to wear, and now that he was close enough, Link shuddered internally for such a mistake.
The mask it bore seemed to be made from a skull.
The silence was thick upon the air, a weighted thing, as the pair simply stared a moment more, reading the other closely. The imp was the first to break it, its anger giving way to some bitterness, and it showed through in his tone as it cocked its head to the side. "…You went and left the forest, and now you've been a grown up so long, you've forgotten about them all. Haven't you?"
It still didn't make any sense, but Link knew far better than to dismiss it again—so resolute in whatever he was saying was this creature, it was far better to humour them than raise the ire of a potentially malicious spirit… especially one that seemed to think it knew him personally. Wary, he straightened, his arms slowly lowering to his sides as fingers twitched to betray his concern. Schooling handsome features into as neutral an expression he could muster, the boy lifted his head to acknowledge.
"Listen…" he began, softening his tone though holding firm. "I don't know who you are, and if I'm supposed to, then I apologize… but—" he gestured to himself, simple and without any sudden movement. "—I have to be honest, I think you've mistaken me for somebody else. I haven't been this far into the forest since I was a kid myself. We've never met, I'm sure of it." It was almost pleading, the way he said it, willing the imp to understand.
It didn't seem to sway the child, though, unmoved and unblinking as he returned a silent and judgmental glare. A dark hand covered with leather like flesh rose upward to tap the carved bone of the mask, and Link noted the likeness to wood grain on its skin as he followed the movement closely. It spoke quietly now, as if telling him a secret, though his distaste for the rancher peppered the words.
"I remember the last time I saw you… you were big that last time, too, don't lie. I remember because I'd only ever seen you small before." It paused then, the strange gaze it held dimming some, like a squint. "…You were my friend when you were small. But then you left the forest and never came back until you were like this. Everybody said you'd turn into a Stalfos, but I knew you wouldn't."
Crossing its arms, the child looked away resentfully, the rustling sound accompanying its movements as it huffed a little and shrugged. "I knew you wouldn't be my friend anymore when you came back a grown up. I told Saria you'd be different, but she didn't believe me. But I was right; now that you're big you don't even remember me…" Slowly, much as the imp tried to hide it, the somber hurt behind his words was beginning to show.
Link had listened carefully to the odd tale the child gave, cautious and intrigued though the emotions he sensed behind it sent his gaze downcast in quiet empathy. The more he heard, the more familiar it sounded, and teetering on the fringe of his mind were the quickly gathered wisps of déjà vu. It was possible, he supposed, that perhaps he had known the imp as a child and simply repressed it alongside other things from his youth, the realization of that fact still crisp within him. Despite himself, Link was slowly beginning to entertain the idea that it was he who was mistaken of the two of them, and the child's recount of how he'd changed as he'd grown older seemed to fit as well.
But out of all of it, his ears twitched upon one word specifically, his head rising with recognition shining in his eyes as handsome features twisted into bemusement. "…Saria?"
The child looked to him with the tiniest hint of surprise, giving nothing away, and shifted its weight expectantly. Link could feel the name in tongue, natural and well used, though he'd never spoken the word before. It surprised him as well, the way it rolled forth so easily, and mouthing the syllables in silent thought, he scoured his own mind to trace it back.
Saria…Saria…it burned like an itch he couldn't scratch, and closing his eyes to remember, he swore the colour behind his eyelids flashed a verdant green. It sounded so warm, kind and comforting, gentle though spirited and filled with life like the upbeat tune of a flute. No, not a flute, he corrected, a melody to match the word springing to mind.
"…An Ocarina."
The change was immediate, in both himself and the imp, as one word unleashed the floodgates of a bygone era; the yellow eyes behind the mask lit up with an innocent forgiveness, expelling even long held anger simply at the prospect of reclaiming an important friend. The dark hand rose once more to the mask, and without a moment's hesitation, the macabre façade was lifted away to reveal the true face. A round face coloured bearing skin like mahogany stared up at Link, bright eyes wide and hopeful as a beaklike mouth smiled faintly. It was not the face of a monster or dark spirit as legend would suggest, but that of a true child much the same as any.
It came rushing back to him at once, like the waterfall behind them, so strongly Link could barely process what any of it meant; images flashed across his mind's eye of a life here in the forest, children followed by fairies of all hues, followed by a strange man selling masks and giving the world an eccentric smile. A moon lingered low on the horizon with a terrifying and unnatural size, just as quickly as it was replaced by the laughter he'd heard before, and the face of old friends. A green haired child smiled at him, her blue eyes as clear as the sky and her song ringing in his ears.
And finally, the face that stared up at him now, waiting patiently to be remembered by a friend… as always.
The smile spread across his lips as boyishly as before, when the rancher's eyes were clear of the past to look, an inquisitive twitch of pointed ears betraying a new sense of recognition.
"…Skull Kid."
The imp very nearly jumped out of his skin when it came, an odd dance of hopping happily from foot to foot matching the grin on its beaklike mouth, wooden embellishments about its form clattering together with the jig. It laughed loudly, the eerie snicker replaced by a childish giggling, as it waved the mask above its head triumphantly.
"You remember me! You do! He hehee!" he cackled gleefully, reaching forward to catch Link's arm and tug excitedly upon it. "Now you can help me make sure all the other weird grown ups don't come back!"
Charmed by such a juvenile thing, the boy couldn't help but laugh as well, blonde bangs swaying lightly as he shook his head and tried to retract his arm, though the imp held firm. He allowed himself to be pulled a little further from the water, the chill of night threatening to cause a shiver now that he was removed from the river's care, but didn't venture far before trying to rein in the imp's enthusiasm some. It was perhaps ironic that he would use a fatherly tone to do so, hiking up the fabric of his pants as he took to a knee, taking eye level.
"Skull Kid, I know this may be hard for you to believe, but just because somebody is an adult doesn't mean they're a threat. A little odd to you maybe, but still…" he drew a pensive breath, thinking of a good way to word what needed saying. "…I'm an adult, and I've got plenty of odd things happening in my life right now."
Though he certainly knew the child somehow and recalled what was said in a strange and inexplicable way, there was still a large gap of things that didn't make any sense. It was as if he was taking in somebody else's memories; seeing lives that weren't his, but provided avenues and information useful to him in his own. He didn't understand how, or why, but after all the imp had said, he felt he needed to be honest about it at the very least… He knew, as he'd suspected in the beginning, that the imp had him confused for somebody else. Who exactly was an interesting question, but one he sensed couldn't be answered here, so there was little point causing more hassle to pursue it—not when he had a better question to ask.
Running his hand through his hair, the rancher eyed the imp with seriousness, twisting the words exchanged between them to his advantage. "I need to ask you something important, since I still don't actually remember a lot of… well… you mentioned me leaving the forest and coming back when I was grown, right?" his brow rose subtly, and he saw the confusion sweep the imp's face.
Receiving a slow and reluctant nod, Link lifted the arm being held to draw attention to his hand, pointing to the birthmark he had there as he eyed the child carefully. "Did I… have a mark like this the last time you saw me? Or, at least… did I have a light that sometimes shone from my hand?" It was a vague query to give to someone he'd, in all respects, only just met, but if the memories Skull Kid seemed to jog were important—if all these memories and visions were connected and crucial to what Sheik was really up to, and why he of all people seemed a threat to it—perhaps the child would hold another clue to unlocking the puzzling force within him.
The yellow eyes seemed to dim as the Skull Kid's head lowered in thought, the playful tugs to Link's arm growing slack as the imp genuinely seemed to search for such sight in his recollection. Almost as if it would help him in the endeavor, a dark hand rose to scratch at the woven hat he wore, rather than his actual head. After a good minute or so of thoughtful humming, a slow and slightly unsure nod followed, its gaze peering off as if watching the memory before him.
"…Yes. I think so… If you were thinking that's why you didn't become a Stalfos even though your fairy left you and you were a grown up…" it whimsically prodded his hand for good measure, as if checking whether the mark was painful or not for its own curiosity. "…Then you're probably right, but I don't know. I think I saw your hand glow, once…"
Turning its head skyward, the imp added an afterthought that Link may well have dismissed, given the casual tone with which it was recalled—it obviously seemed like an unimportant detail to the Skull Kid, and though neither would know it, his next words shaped the very outline of Destiny.
"…But then you put the sword back and it stopped, and then you left again without visiting your friends even once."
It shot through the air like a flaming arrow, and struck the boy in the heart with an importance he simply couldn't place. "Sword?" he uttered, seizing upon the word like a starving man did a banquet, though his eyes had become unfocussed; his keen mind had taken in every detail, it seemed, piecing them together in his subconscious. Now, with that final element added, it had presented an old family heirloom—a story—with crisp acuity. Malinna knew the damned thing off by heart, but Link himself had never paid enough attention to recall it anymore then to be reminded of it now.
He never did have a good attention span as a child.
The imp gave him an odd look, something of ignorance mixed upon apathy, and offered a simple shrug and a tilt of its head; its own attention span waning with childlike speed. "If that's what you came here looking for, then you're too late. It's not here anymore." It seemed distracted suddenly by something in the trees, and a beaky frown began to cross the imp's face. "A big group of men came and took it. I'm glad they did, because they were wandering about for a week; I only got them to leave yesterday… Once I figured out what they were looking for, I opened up the forest to let them through, and then as soon as they dug it up, they turned back to wherever they came from."
Once again, Link found himself at a loss for what exactly the child was on about, but something in the nature of his description unsettled him greatly. If there was any doubt before as to the worth of this sword, Skull Kid's testament laid it well to rest; large groups of men don't brave the forests for light treasure. In the pit of his stomach, churning with a wild and desperate sense of panic, the boy found he already had a good idea of who the men were, and with it a familiar scowl seeped across his face.
No doubt the Regent had seen fit to flex his new army of soldiers.
It was all beginning to click together now—just he'd heeded the call of the Forests at the behest of this force, so too had Sheik. It seemed to be something akin to Divine Will at play, entwining the two men in a paired destiny that neither one could escape. Malinna herself had told him that only the Goddesses could pass judgment, and that if his assumptions about the newly crowned Regent were correct, he would be given a sign that it was his right and purpose to cleanse such evil from the world. Telma and Ashei both could attest firsthand to the boy's peculiar connections to the Sheikah, the bar matron once even going so far as to say he was 'something special', and later risking her own life to see his protected on such a notion.
The light shone to save him from his chains, its strength flared when he'd sparred with those who would cause harm to himself and others, and guided him when he felt lost. Clearly, he was being driven to succeed in the duty it had charged him with.
This sword, for whatever reason, seemed to be the tie breaker between Sheik and himself; the winning hand in a game of chance, the grain to tip the scales indefinitely. That was the reason he was drawn here—sent here—to the lands of Faron. There was no other explanation, especially now that it was obvious the Regent had known the call just as well as he, taking measures to secure it.
He needed to find out why, and more importantly, if he was correct he needed to get it back at all costs. Fortunately, though, the story that may shed some light on it was, as he'd noted earlier, only a stone's throw away… but the risk, at this point, was dire—Link was not foolish enough to think that his ranch was not, at the very least, well monitored by the authorities. His family could be put to death on the charge of even associating with him after the King's murder, not to mention the chance of his own recapture.
Whether or not it truly was the intervention of Gods that lay at the heart of this force within him, this light that breathed purpose and courage back into a weary soul, he may never know, but Link could infer that its source must've been tethered closely to his enemy as well. The Regent knew the game better than he did, evidently, knowing this force could threaten him if, it seemed, it was combined with this sword. Perhaps he even shared the strange power with Link himself; Sheik holding his own twisted end of the rope that bound them in this tug of war—for all Link knew, the Regent fully intended to wield the weapon himself, for whatever power it may grant him.
A conflict of light and dark forces, though they both shared a single origin.
The same river, different flows.
Breaking him from his internal deductions, the child's voice came snidely, blissfully unaware of the havoc wreaked by its dislike of adults. "It'll take a while for their stink to fade, but at least they're gone. I'm going to build traps in case they come back though."
Link would not tell Skull Kid what he had accidentally done, nor hold him in contempt for it; after the innocent and immediate forgiveness the imp had shown him, despite his long held grudge, the rancher could only return him the same kindness. Hiding his newly discovered concerns, he simply turned the imp a reserved smile and moved to stand, his gaze traveling upward to track the stars once again.
A plan was coming together in his mind as he thought back on the day's events; Sheik had a castle, a defensible position, and an army to back him. But Link had already discovered, in the time he'd spent there, that there were weak points to be exploited—tunnels to be infiltrated, guard rotations to slip through, numerous halls to hide in, and a plethora of soldiers to impersonate. But the forest was another matter entirely; open expanses that saw brave men lost, the thick of it poorly mapped, and surrounded by rural areas that Castletown soldiers rarely traveled, if ever. He knew these lands well, born and raised upon them. There was, in that sense, an even playing field to be found… the forest was just as defensible as a castle, when one knew the advantages of the land and his enemy didn't.
And after all, he'd made a friend here… and where there were friends, there was home.
Where there are allies… there's a stronghold.
"On second thought… Maybe I will help you keep them out, after all."
A/N:
Goddamn, all the metaphor and epiphany and mental progress in this one was a headtrip to write over the course of three days working.
Late nights and slight insomnia is great for writing in the sense of free time to do it in, but not so much on the being awake enough for it.
Anyway, I originally planned to write the part with Badon and that getting the sword, but when I tried to start on it, it just seemed off track to me. Badon isn't main enough a character to have his own segment with no others, and it was just turning out kinda boring since we all knew what he was gonna do anyway.
Also, more past hero memories for Link, and a cool spot for Skull Kid in there, because he's an awesome way to throw back to foresty themes ala OoT, with a little MM on the side for the friendship theme.
Also, Coro will be awesome later on, I can just feel it. The dude's way too much of a laid back hippy to not provide comic relief.
Anyway, Link mini-arc over, and next chapter will be back to Ganondorf and Zelda's affairs.
Onwards to Glory.