I'm back, everyone. This may or may not be filler, but it's vitally important to the plot, if not apparently so. Chapter 37 was a killer to write - the largest chapter ever, for me. Anyways, please enjoy.

Inspired by Ocarina of Time.

Chapter Thirty-Six: Of Unexpected Hospitality

Riding Deste, it took a week and a half, rather than three, to get from white-sailed Grassbow to Hestoppe, a small town on the inner side of the Zora River. As Link searched for a good place to ford the river, he ran across a troop of soldiers, their blue and brass shoulder-slides signifying they came from Patcheem, as opposed to the gold and crimson that marked the royal general army. They stopped him briefly, but a boy on a horse citing urgent business was less suspicious than a boy alone on foot, so they let him go, after advising Link to cross the river at Pauline.

The territory beyond the river got hilly very quickly, then rocky. Mountain ash and evergreens seemed to be the dominant trees growing on the scruffs and slopes. Star flowers sprinkled the sparse grass and creeping vines. At last, Link and the faithful Deste left the sight of the Plains, climbing further and further into the grasp of the mountains.

It was not always a safe climb. One afternoon, Link was startled from his easy seat on Deste's back by the howl of a Wolfos. Deste flattened his ears back, the whites of his eyes showing, but obediently stopped and did not bolt under his master's firm hand. The massive canine loped out from underneath a shaggy stand of evergreens, its menacing growl hungry. Link drew his sword and wheeled Deste to face the beast, just as the wolf sprang at them, more interested in the Hylian than the horse. Up came Link's heavy boot, and something crunched in the canine's muzzle. It wailed and backpedaled, blood spraying from its broken nose, and a sharp cut from Link's sword across its silver ruff sent it fleeing into the underbrush, huffing out pained cries that faded with its quick retreat.

Link sighed, cleaned the blood off his sword and boot, then set about to calm Deste down. He smoothed the grey dapple's mane gently, crooning praise to the frightened gelding until the horse was soothed and was affectionately lipping Link's hands. The boy gave his steed a last, affectionate rub between the eyes, before mounting up and continuing on.

The road was hard, and winding. At some points one side of the path dropped into a sheer drop, making Link very glad he wasn't the slightest bit afraid of heights. The spring days were getting longer, but he stopped whenever there was a clearing flat and secure enough to camp in. The nights were cold, so Link made sure to cover Deste up with his horse blanket every evening.

At last, Cragshead Mountain, with its snow cap and jagged peaks, loomed into view from behind the smaller mountains, signaling the end of Link's journey to Kakariko. Halfway around, Link and Deste ran into a pair of rock Tektites – which Deste, without any prompting from his rider, chased off the path and then trotted glibly past them down the road, unhindered. Link laughed, slapped the grey on the neck, and grabbed for the reins. Deste snorted, as if to say, 'they weren't that tough.'

Climbing down into the valley made by the Cricka River, a smaller river that fed into the mighty Zora, Link should have been able to see the smoke from Kakariko, but the rising wind whipped it away, the cloudy sky a sullen pale grey.

Snow began to fall, lightly at first, then heavier, more and more, until Link couldn't see the path in front of Deste's hooves. Sure he could not reach the city safely, he turned his steed aside into the low, overhanging shelter of a thick patch of spruces, and after blanketing Deste, he bid his horse kneel down. Link draped the tent cloths over them both, pulling off his jacket, putting on more layers of clothing from his pack, then replaced his coat. He curled up in his bedroll and blanket, and snuggled against Deste's side, ready to wait out the storm. Link was just grateful he was in the relative shelter of the valley, instead of the exposed rock of Cragshead Mountain. Surely the storm would be brief – it was well into spring and the warmth typically drove the snow away quickly.

It was too cold for even nightmares.

Link was awoken by the insistent nudging of Deste's head. He struggled weakly to sit upright, drawn further into consciousness by hot horse breath. The snow had stopped falling, but there was at least a foot or two on the ground.

Link noted with dismay that the ends of his fingers were numb and strangely colored. He rubbed feeling back into them painfully, then stamped warmth into his booted feet. He saddled and bridled Deste once more. The climb into the saddle was awkward, but he managed, and was shocked to see it was already many hours past noon when he glanced up at the sun's position. The trip into the valley was difficult and arduous with all the snow on the ground. He found the bridge across the Clicka after getting lost several times, and then set out to climb the valley path up to Kakariko.

The way was hard, and night fell before he could reach the city limits. No snow fell, but the night was colder than the last, and wind blew the snow in its drifts across the ground in swirling eddies that blinded. There was no shelter to be found in which to out wait the night out this time, and the snow wasn't deep enough to dig a cave into, so Link and Deste glumly continued on.

They had reached a dark, open place where the snow accumulated in strange, looming drifts when Link's last dregs of energy gave out. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he fell.

Then there was nothing but darkness, and cold, and cold,

and cold

and great hands lifting up

movement shifting

a concerned voice?

no, it couldn't, could it

rusty hinges and a sudden warmth.

And darkness.

The shriek of a kettle woke him this time around. Link was rather surprised to find himself lying down, warm and cozy, if very stiff. His sight was very blurry, and he blinked frantically to clear it, to no avail. A low ceiling and a lit stove refused to resolve themselves to his liking. His breath caught in his dry throat and coughs racked his body.

"Ah!" An old man's voice wheezed, "Kat, my sweet, our guest is awake."

"Hm?" Inquired a girl's soft, lilting voice, "Ah, so he is. Well, I've milk toast and, soon as not, hot tea for that one. Should lift the damp right out." She stepped close enough into the light for Link to see her – his poor eyesight could only make out a short girl, probably two or three years younger than him, and bright hair somewhere between red and true gold. The girl - Kat, apparently – lifted up a lamp to better examine him, illuminating the narrow nook that the cot was wedged into. "Look at me, dear. I need to see your eyes." Link obeyed, and she sat back on the edge of the little bed, and shook her head. "Pupils still constricted. It'll take day or so, by my guess, for you to get your sight rightly back."

"What?" He croaked, and she laughed at him.

"You're a mess, and should know better than to sleep on someone else's grave without their permission. Spooks don't like it much – so that one laid a trick on you, and that was what got you ill. If you behave yourself, she might let you go sooner than two days." When he frowned at her in confusion, she sighed. "We found you in the graveyard, out cold. You've been here at least four days."

"Where am I?"

"In the hospitality of Dampe the Grave keeper, right on the outskirts of Kakariko."

"Kattala! Tea's ready." Said the old man, his voice deep enough that Link judged he would probably be barrel-chested.

"Ta, dear." Kattala said, and busied herself with the kettle and a mug. Dampe, a stocky old man, probably in his hundreds already, held the rough plate of milk toast as she fussed over the stove. "You're rather lucky, you know." She said over her shoulder to Link, "If you hadn't been cursed, you might have succumbed to the cold or come down with the lung-chills, like as not. But when the dead curse you, the curse comes first. There's no dying to be done 'til you're done suffering." Done with the mug, she walked over to the bed-nook. Dampe helped Link sit up, shoving a thin pillow between his back and the wooden wall. Link took the cup of tea carefully, and drank gratefully but carefully. It was an herbal tea, strong and sweet. When the elderly man was sure Link could manage on his own, he patted Kattala on her bright head affectionately.

"You keep watch over him, child. I've my rounds to do." He said and she nodded, hopping up onto a stool by the bed and swinging her short legs absently back and forth. Dampe left, locking the door behind him. Kattala reached over and turned the lamp shutters open wider, filling the shack with light. It was then that Link noticed there was something wrong with her nose. To his blurred vision, it appeared strangely lopsided. Odd.

"Would you like that toast now?" She asked, "Or would you like to keep gawking?"

"Sorry," He muttered, then added, "And yes, please." Kattala quickly cut the milk toast into bite sized pieces and handed him a pair of eating sticks, to his surprise that she might have Southern utensils in such a Northern area. He ate slowly, his fingers still stiff from their exposure to the cold. The warm toast itself was rough-grained, soaked in milk, honey, and the slightest bit of cinnamon and clove. Kattala pressed another cup of tea on him, then poured one for herself. With his stomach full, before he knew it, Link's eyes began to droop. His young nurse rescued the earthen mug before he could spill it, then helped the older boy lay down. He was asleep before she could pull up the blanket.

Kattala went back to her stool, drinking sweet tea slowly, legs swinging and grey-green eyes watching her charge carefully.

She was still there the next morning when Link woke. He stretched carefully, feeling much better, and found his eyes could focus as well, now. He looked down at the floor, and saw Kattala sleeping on his unrolled bedroll, his blanket folded up into a pillow. Her face was peaceful, blanket and hair all but obscuring it.

She pulled her hand away from her face, and Link's stomach lurched, then flopped over in disgust. Her face – which might have been pretty – was utterly marred by a sunken-in cheekbone and a nose that had clearly been broken so badly it was smashed to the sunken side of her face. He hadn't noticed earlier, with his vision shot by the curse which must have worn off in the night.

He looked away, and swallowed the nausea down. Then he looked again, forcing himself not to feel ill. The deformity consisted only of her nose and her left cheekbone. Her mouth was a little coral rosebud, the chin delicate. Her brows and eyelashes were a light brown, her ears the same comforting roundness Keen's had been, and she wore no magic-regulating ear cuff. Pretty. She would have been a pretty girl if not for the unfortunate nose and cheek.

As if hearing his thoughts, she blinked and sat up.

"Mornin'." Kattala mumbled.

"Good morning." Link replied, "I'm feeling much better, thanks to you."

"Think nothing of it. Any decent person would've helped."

"Are you the grave keeper's daughter?" He wondered, and she turned sharp, almond-shaped eyes on him.

"Why? Because I'm ugly?" Kattala asked quietly, without much bitterness. Link blinked.

"No!" He said, backpedaling.

"Well then, why? That's the only thing that makes us alike, see. Well, sides from the graves."

"Er, why couldn't it be the way he was acting towards you?" Link paused awkwardly, then added, "Sorry."

"He's not my father. He's a good friend, is all."

"I see."

"Hmph." She said, then cocked her head slightly. "You feel well enough to walk? It wouldn't be more than a dozen yards. Mister Dampe needs his bed back – he's too old to sleep on the floor more than once, and money is too dear to have a sick guest for long." Link frowned thoughtfully, then stretched slowly to test his body.

"I think so." He said, sitting up further. "Where would we be going?"

"To the house I live in, mid-town Kakariko - my Master's household."

"You don't live with your family?" Link asked bluntly. He was feeling much better, but there was a lingering tiredness in his bones, and he was too achy for subtlety.

"No, I was apprenticed to Master Tangle since I was nine. I've lived with him the three years since."

"That would make you twelve, then." Link said thoughtlessly, and she smiled impishly.

"Just a year younger than you, I judge. You ask a lot of questions for a sick man." Link flushed, and went silent. "Stay here, please. I'll get Dampe." She slid off the high stool, and left the shack.

Kattala returned a dozen minutes later, with the grave keeper in tow. Dampe helped Link up, and Link discovered Kattala was sturdy, but tiny enough to be the perfect height to use as a crutch. Together, the girl and the old man got the weakened boy onto a battered cart, a shabby farmer sitting impatiently in the driver's seat. Dampe returned to his house to get Link's heavy pack and bedroll, and heaved them into the bed of the cart.

"Thank you for saving me, sir." He said politely, and the man nodded.

"T'was nothing. I'd just as soon not need to dig a new grave, all for a little evil on my soul." Dampe said easily, then looked to Kattala, who had climbed into the cart next to Link. "Kat, take good care of him, and be sure to come for the funeral on Starsday."

"I will, Dampe." She said, smiling, then turned to the driver. "Mister Claral, we're ready too leave now, thanks." Mister Claral nodded stiffly, and clucked to the powerful blood bay nag hitched to the wagon, and the cart started with a lurch. They left the massive graveyard for a narrow brick road winding down the steep slope to the city. Slowly, the memorials and mausoleums were shrouded by the morning mist until distance faded them out of sight.

The cart shook and swayed as they rattled down the road. Kattala reached into a pocket and pulled out a small bundle wrapped in a handkerchief. She opened the bundle and handed Link a pair of oatcakes studded with raisins. He gnawed on it carefully, and washed the food down with water from the offered canteen in Kattala's little hands.

The roofs of Kakariko quickly appeared over the treetops of the wooded road, all red, faded black, and grey slate slopes, smoke curling from circular chimneys. Once they were through the brick arch that defined the entrance to Kakariko, Link could see and hear clamor of the traffic on the city streets.

As it was Sunday, and thus the day after the holy day of rest, all the merchants and vendors were anxious to get a head start on the new business week. Mister Claral paid no attention to the braying of the vendors hawking their wares and produce. Link followed the man's lead and examined the city instead. It was located in the nook between Cragshead Mountain, the Clicka River, and Death Mountain, built on massive, ancient terraces in the valley on the lee side of the great volcano's feet. Looking up, Link could see that a giant ridge far above the terraces would redirect any resulting lava from the kind of eruption Death Mountain's Firemouth might send forth.

Earthen ramps, paved with stone and lined on either side with stairs for pedestrians, let traffic move from one level to another with ease. There were at least eleven different levels, with the baron's manor and the administrative buildings on the eighth and widest level.

Kakariko, in a way, was older and younger than Hyrule City itself. The terraces, ramps, and wells were probably old enough to have been built by the early settled Sheikah people in their heyday. But the buildings themselves were fairly new – not a one older than two hundred years. As if reading his mind, Kattala whispered that there had been a fire a hundred and fifty years ago, caused by an earthquake which had been born from the shivers of the sleeping bulk that was Death Mountain. Most of the city had been destroyed by the resulting fire, and then rebuilt.

Further down in the valley lay the farms that fed the city, winding north was the road that led to a cross roads – one going around the base of the Firemouth to Stonefall, the Mountain Province's capital, the other crawling up the mountain to Climbtown, the highest Hylian settlement in the country.

Mister Claral guided the cart up to the fifth level, until it rolled to a stop in front of a large, mannerly house in mottled grey stone, which was set halfway into the cliff of the terrace. A plump man, dressed in bright vermilion, waved happily from the front porch, and Kattala waved back.

"That would be my master." She said in a pleased tone. "Thank you Mister Claral, for the ride. You'll get the discounts as were promised to you." Mister Claral nodded,

"Thank'ee." Was all he said gruffly, and slid off the driver's bench to grab Link's things from the back of the cart. Kattala and Link clambered off the back, the girl once more supporting her charge as they walked over to her master.

"Splendid! Oh, splendid." The man pronounced, his voice pitched high and fluttery. "So this is the handsome young man you were telling me about, now, ay?" Claral took one wary look at the plump man, dumped the pack and bedroll at the shorter man's feet, grunted a hello, and hightailed it out of there.

In response to her master's question, Kattala shrugged under Link's arm.

"It weren't anything like that, Master Tangle." She said patiently, "This is Link Forrester. Link, this is my master, the Sorcerer Tangle Ferres."

"Pleased to meet you, Master Tangle. And thanks for taking me in." Link murmured.

"Heavens, lad, guests are always welcome here! Especially good looking men!" Tangle said with a good-natured leer. Kattala sighed, little shoulders slumping in embarassment. "Now let me just get your things and we'll settle you in. Your fine steed is already in our stable." He heaved the bundles up, and headed for the door. Link and Kattala stumbled after him. A servant closed the door behind them. The interior of the house was cool and shady, with dark wood floors and accents, diamond-paned windows of fine glass letting in rays of bright sunlight. There seemed to be very few servants, for such a large house.

Kattala handed Link off to a male servant, who led him to a sunny room on the second story. Link gratefully crawled into an armchair, and thanked the man.

"Mistress Katerin will be with you soon." The servant replied, and left. Link puzzled over who that might be. Perhaps the lady of the house. But Master Tangle did not seem like the kind of man who would have a wife, even for show. As it were, Mistress Katerin turned out to be Kattala.

"In this house, and in the city, you need to call me Katerin Ferres." She told him, and Link blinked.

"Why?" He wanted to know.

"I'm pretending to be the Master's daughter, see. The ownership of this house is rather tricky, and if Master Tangle doesn't have a blood heir, he loses the house to his great-aunt Melbina. Those servants have been serving the family for generations – it's their bread and butter as what comes from working here. We don't really need them, but Aunt Melbina would send them away to find new work just out of thrift. The hag." Kattala added spitefully. "And he's practically my father anyways, so I don't see nothing wrong with it."

"What's your real name, then?"

"Kattala Selten. But you keep that a secret," The girl warned, "Or I'll bend my mind to figuring out as why you've got one of the Royal Rings, a Gerudo scimitar, food for a long journey, and enough money and goods on you as could buy a house, easily."

"And tell me, what were you doing going through my things?" Link demanded, fingers digging into the arms of the upholstered chair, "Furthermore, how? Nobody but me can open that pack."

"That's what all the craftsmen say to their customers." Kattala said idly, waving her hand at the notion. "I'm no first-year apprentice. I've been making those sorts of bags for at least a year now. Breaking them open is like a locksmith picking a lock – it's just part of the skill set. But that's off the topic. I went through your pack because you were close enough to spit Death in the face for at least three days, and I needed to see who you were, whether you had family looking for you, and where they might be." Somewhere downstairs a melodious clock chimed eleven times. Kattala looked away. "I needs to get back to my training. Here-" She set two books down on Link's lap, and then fetched a small cane from the hall. "You reek of music magic. These should keep your interest. I expect you'll be hale and hearty in a day or so. You're welcome in the house for another week yet, so don't worry about wearing out your welcome. The bell pull in the corner will summon a servant, if you might need one." She turned to go.

"Wait -" Link said, and she stopped halfway out the door.

"Yes?" The strawberry blonde inclined her head.

"Why are you being so, well, welcoming? I'm a stranger, after all." Kattala grinned.

"I haven't been in Hyrule long, but where I'm from, we have something called hospitality. You might've heard of it." And then she was gone, padding quietly down the airy hallway.

Link sighed, and without anything better to do, turned to the books he'd been given.

1. As the Zora River curls around the Plains much like the mountains do, there are two 'sides' of the river – inner, and outer.

2. Some might think Dampe is too old. Well, my great-uncle is in his late eighties, and he still goes fishing at four in the morning, hunts, and cuts down trees with a chainsaw. Also, Hylians become elderly around 100 years old. So there.

3. Like Dark and Keen, Kattala is a very important character. All three will have a major part to play in the sequel.

4. Here's a refresher for the calendar of Vanity: there are thirty-two hours in a day, five days in a week (Sunday, Moonsday, Starsday, Groundday, and Godsday). Godsday is the holy day of rest and worship. There are exactly four weeks in a month, making a month twenty days long. There are twenty months in a year, so a year is four hundred days long. The new year begins on the winter solstice.

Everyone, you are so amazing! Please keep up the reviews - especially detailing specifics you like or don't.

Thank you.

Rin