The smell of blood still wafted toward the camp, from where they had let the deer drain. They started at the collarbone, slicing all the way down to the groin, then up the inside of each of the legs. Someone could always use more leather, so they wanted to keep the hide well intact.
Sitting across from Link on a tree downed long ago, Stemm - a traveling chef, by his own description - started to peel carrots and potatoes. The skins he let fall among the grass, the clean vegetables he dropped into a large stockpot to wait. It was much too soon, but he needed something to do.
When Link went to wipe the sweat from their forehead with the back of their arm, they left a little smear of blood that caught a lock of hair and matted it to their eyebrow. The sight of it had Stemm's face twisting into the most polite agony he could manage.
The time came to split open its belly and he excused himself to stoke and adjust the fires - meat and organs did better in different temperatures at different times, he said.
Link twisted around to grab another, larger pot to drop the more palatable organs in, and the rest were given back to the earth, that Farore may put them to better use.
Their boots were soiled as they worked to separate the carcass into manageable cuts, the better part of an hour drifting by them as they were engrossed in the work. Every now and again their gaze flicked over to Stemm, tutting around the camp proper. Always seeming to produce more cookware and utensils and little bottles of spices from his pack. He had a rather fine set of glass bottles he kept water in, too - as well as some spirit that stank all to hell. Highly impractical for travel compared to a waterskin, but lovely nonetheless. A pair of the ones filled with water were sitting in a half-rotted bucket with a pilfered ice rod.
They piled the meat onto a spare sheet of leather they had so they could haul it all the few feet to the fire, hefting it over the log with a grunt.
Stemm spared them a smile for all of their work. "Thank you, yes, it'll be fine there."
He took the opportunity to go on while they paused to take a breath, "It makes me feel like such a fraud, not doing all my own prep, but butchering is just… such ugly work."
Link couldn't help but cock the bloody eyebrow at him. The lock of hair came loose with the movement.
"Don't look at me like that - it's not that I had some… pampered upbringing, my parents did their own hunting when I was young. We just moved to a bigger town before it was my time to learn. And if someone has already prepared the meat for you, well…"
They wondered, at times, if people in their previous life had spilled their guts to them like this. Their silence left a lot of room for it.
"I suppose I was so excited to travel and to do it all myself that I didn't think about what 'doing it all myself' would entail."
Link's expression softened some. They could sympathize with being in over one's head.
"… What are you waiting around for? I can handle this part, you wash up." He shooed them with one hand, pulling the meat toward himself with the other.
They huffed through their nose at his tone, but they didn't need to be told twice.
—
Twilight's somber blanket settled over the grass, made the soft sands twinkle as Link stepped into the shallow waters. Going in almost up to their knees, they found a rock to settle on, dipping their arms into the cool river flow and scrubbing the deer's blood free from their arms and boots. Blood dried on skin is rather like the first layer of paint on raw wood, thin and clinging seamlessly.
Pulling back, droplets on their skin became flecks of gold in the dying light. They reached into a pouch at their hip for a bar of soap and comb. The bar was only about the length of their palm and a third of the width, off-white in color - not unlike honey diluted in milk. They rubbed a conservative lather into their palm; it would be some time before they returned to Hateno for more, but they wanted the copper smell off their hands. They only just remembered the smear on their face before rinsing off.
The comb was simple, a chunk of birch wood carved and left unfinished, but with much thicker teeth than their last one. Hair tie held between their lips, they dipped the comb into the river, closed their eyes and began to run it through their hair. Their ears twitched with every rustle of the trees behind them.
Clean and calmed, they took a deep breath and rose to return to camp.
—
Stemm greeted them heartily, in much higher spirits now that he was in his element. He already had several pounds of meat salted and packed into leather satchels, while another had been cubed for their supper.
Link took their seat at an angle to him, not quite next to him. Stemm was proving to be quite the multi-tasker around the cook pot, moving seamlessly between preserving the meat and prodding the chunk of fat he had rendering out in the bottom of the pot. It had been strung up by a chain, held aloft by three metal rods - an incredibly handy contraption, Link would have to see about finding one.
At each step, Stemm explained how staggering each ingredient's addition would change their texture and flavor. Link sipped their chilled water and decided to keep their disagreements about what the texture should be to themself; they could deal with mushy onions in their stew for one night.
With everything coming together, he whipped out a smaller wooden spoon, took a taste and pursed his lips, looking up to the sky. "I wish I had a little sweetness to take that edge off, but I've just run out…"
Link's ear twitched with a thought, and they dipped their fingers into another one of their hip pouches. From it they drew a flower, not unlike the Silent Princess, but half the size and without its luminescent qualities. They held it up as a suggestion, "Maybe this?"
"That?" Stemm leaned close to scrutinize the flower, "No, I'm afraid those are quite bitter."
They shook their head and insisted, "Cousin of the star flower. Breeding out the glow takes out the bitterness."
He raised an eyebrow. "Usually, yes, but they've been moving back that way for a while. Have you been under a rock?"
Rather than argue the point further, they popped the flower in their mouth - only to immediately stick out their tongue and let the mushed petals fall off.
Stemm laughed victoriously. "I told you!"
With their eyes unfocused on the grass, something deep within them wavered, but only momentarily. It was too silly a thing to unsettle them. Even if it was one of the few things they thought they remembered.
"The one thing I was prepared for was finding tasty plants!" He glanced again toward the dying light while digging something out of his bag.
"Don't know how much you can do by firelight, but here-" He held out a small, leather-bound notebook, "You can copy this."
It was soft in their hands, telling of its relative youth. The cover crackled quietly as they opened it. The pages detailed a number of edible wild plants native to central Hyrule and Necluda, including flavor profiles and notable lookalikes.
Link set it on their knee so they could sign, "Thank you, but, I don't have anything to copy to."
For a moment he seemed surprised. Then he shrugged, a relaxed smile crossing his face. "Keep that one, then. I can make another."
Their mouth worked and they struggled to make the sign feel sincere enough, "Thank you."
"Think nothing of it. It won't do me much good when I head out to Akkala, anyway."
With that reassurance they relaxed some, settling in to skim the notes while he finished.
The sun ducked away behind the far trees and its last light vanished, turning the camp into a bright bubble in a dark ocean.
Turned out Stemm was right about it needing a bit of sweet, but it was far from inedible. Link was more than glad to take a second helping. Simple, but warm and filling. He was definitely still wrong about onions, but the potato was good.
Stemm had no stories to tell and his sign wasn't strong enough to keep up with Link's, so the night air was left to the crickets, crackling of fire and the tittering of breeze through the grass and leaves. In time, they agreed to part in sleep.
Link settled down into the embrace of a nearby elm. Stemm stayed closer to the fire, with his sizable pack to prop him up. Firelight faded, gave way to the silver grace of the moon, orange glowing embers not unlike the shrines waiting for them in the distance.
—
Link woke at first light. Hummed deep in their throat and stretched, scratched their shoulder against the bark before even bothering to open their eyes. They could already feel the knot that had formed in their hair.
Sitting up, they saw Stemm still asleep, his mouth dangerously open to the sky. They shook their head, starting to fix their hair when they noticed a small line of leaves laid parallel on their thigh - korok mischief. A little smile tugged at the corner of their mouth. They carefully stacked the leaves and tucked them away in a pocket.
It was time to go - their deal was done and a number of important tasks awaited them. Link stood and took a final stretch. But still, they looked over to their companion. He had done them an extra kindness.
Stemm's rig was still set up - perhaps they could make use of it. Link knelt with a bit of bounce, considering the remnants of the fire.
They reached into the depths of a pouch and grasped the handle of a short sword - though not short enough to keep them from having to bend over at a funny angle to get it out, falling onto their hip. Exposed to the open air, the blade flared to life with eerily silent fire. A bit of tinder, another log and the tip of the blade was all that was needed. A little extra kindness, then they would go.
Three eggs scrambled into fine curds, peppered with fresh herbs and salt flakes, gently folded over on itself with a wooden spoon. A hopefully respectable omelet they set nearby under a korok leaf.
Link put their hands on their hips and regarded a man they would likely not see again, one more time. The Dueling Peaks loomed. The sun crept higher. And strangers parted.