A/N: Welcome to another chapter of Slice of the Wild, a story I advertise as slice of life then immediately add to it a kidnap scene and horse chase. Thanks for joining along! Interesting fact, I'm at my grandpa's cottage for the week. At my age, he was very handsome - blonde like Link with similar features. My mom said he was courteous and adventurous - so, I've been thinking of him as I write this week.
Hey, thank you for following the story Alisa of Silesia, Dark-Huntress Sam, DunkDaddy77, Minicoach, PigSlapper, Shikisai-san, and Jynxhasadragon, I've been welcoming people to the story - hoping that makes this feel a bit more personal (and me less nervous). I see you guys join in my email updates and well - it's so cool to me! I have to do something about it, so welcome!
zViridian, thank you for the motivation, your enthusiasm, your words, whatever you've got! :) On a personal note, I've been a bit more reluctant to write this arc. I grew up coming and going from a stable, so writing for those scenes felt more natural. I cannot say the same for dangerous road trips. Though the feeling of wanting to protect others and not knowing who to do it reigns king! So, we'll just camp out there together! Hope you enjoy this chapter!
Charaboogity, thank you for your review! Shamelessly, I was inspired by Spicy Chestnut's take on Zelda in "Love in a Time of Calamity." She wrote Zelda to be emotionally tethered to the champions due to her childhood neglect. I had never thought of that - it felt so right for her character. I hoped to explore that side of her more.
Dragonmaster150, oh yeah, Link has it real bad! And thank you so much for your encouraging words. More interactions? You got it!
Jynxhasadragon, I get you 100%. I've been there so many times before - reading up until the last seconds before class, one last chapter at 3 a.m in the morning, when I'm waiting for a friend to show up, or at work during a lunch break when I should be catching up on something else. I'm just - well, sincerely honored to be on the other side of it. Bless you! Thank you for your review, Jynx!
Chapter Eight
A Sheikah child, such as twelve-year-old Koko, was expected to serve, obey, and bow with her head low on the eve of the Equinox Festival where the Hylian goddess could be bought with one-thousand rolled rice balls.
Koko huffed - thirty balls in, she took in the chaos of the Elder's kitchen filled to the brim with barking cooks, rushing servants, and squirming young weens who were obligated to help despite their germy hands and poor rolling skills. Peta, a classmate, sneezed on his rice; Patrice squashed her roll; and when a servant came flying through, knocking Koko into the nook's table, she threw up her hands, tore off her apron, and consented to bail.
"Don't sneeze on the rice!" Shrieked the Elder, harassing Sneezy-Peet like a swarm of bees - a sudden cue for the twelve-year-old Sheikah! And like clockwork, she shifted into Elder's right field of vision, where the bat's eyes were weakest, stuffed a rice ball in her mouth, and sidled out the kitchen on the far wall.
But upon stumbling into the foyer, she heard her name sung from the center of the room.
"Koko!"
Koko froze, her mouth stuffed with rice. Turning, she found little Cotla playing dolls while Paya, the Elder's little-miss-anxious-granddaughter, dropped her broomstick, mid-sweep of the stairway. Hesitantly, she scanned the escapee's trail of rice beads from the kitchen, but before she could drop that small, timid mouth for questioning, Cotla interrupted.
"Where ya going, missy sissy?"
Ugh!- thought Koko. Getting caught so early was not the plan. Peeved, she swallowed the rice ball, then pressed her finger to her lips before slipping out the front door.
Breaking for the outside, she slipped off the Elder's stairway and hit the ground with a roll. Dust flying, she coughed up some beads of rice and then began her journey under the house. A crawlway, covered in cobwebs and dampened mulch, led to the face of the Kakarikan waterfalls where one could scale down the cliffs - they were only a trickle when she approached, streaming into a hot, dank pond bed below. When she landed in the shallow pool, frogs scampered away from her. Weedy grass tickled her shins; her toes melded with the scorching mud as she crossed.
Ha! - thought she, pulling herself out of the pond bed - she was slipping past the adults! She slithered out of the basin and rolled into the shadows to remain unseen.
And what luck awaited her! - the entire glen was empty. The blinding bath of sunlight flooded the abandoned festival stands - no guests, no welcomers, no planners nor florists on the Eve of the Equinox. Even Pikango, the guard who painted his feelings, had left his easel with a piece half-finished. Rola's targets lay half-painted; her arrows were scattered around the dirt. Among them, the Equinox arch lay collapsed in the dry grass - its flags a colorful snake along the ground.
Koko laughed to herself - it's about time everyone bailed! But only when she crossed the glen did she find everyone. Half the village gathered by the old tree at the tribe's lookout. But, taking her narrow window for freedom, Koko thought nothing of it and scurried up the hill of the Clothing Shoppe. She wheeled around for the incline, trudged up Shine Hill, and ditched the sacred spot for her own, which resided in the Faerie Forest, where the spirit of her mother still dwelled. Only when slipping beneath her canopy, did she feel the urge to wipe her mouth.
She was too old for this, wasn't she? Sneaking away to her mother's favorite spot in town to talk to a dead person? But, Koko had a lot to vent about after another semester of losing to her class rival, Yume, which meant she'd have to endure another Festival where the snob held the honor of baptizing the Elderly - bleh! Koko complained to the viridescent branches sprawled out above her. A pair of chipmunks hopped between them, shaking the bushels in dissent.
"I know!" Koko played along. "That Yume, the know-it-all snob with the perfect hair and tiny feet - psh, like she could ever make it up here without the Elder knowing." Needing to prove something to herself, she mimicked the sly steps of a classic Sheikah and tip-toed through the foliage that littered the ground. And with ease, she hoisted herself over a fallen tree conquested by mushrooms, swatted away the moths when they flew from the rotten bark, and dropped herself on the other side. Quietly, she stepped through the forest with her bare feet, careful not to scare the deer that wandered one-hundred feet out.
"Who would want to drip fish water on the elderly anyway?" Commented the preteen, imagining a better world where Sheikah children were raised to spar, sneak, and spin riddles - she swiped a bare switch from a fallen tree and imagined herself in a duel with all her enemies: she'd whip Yume in the butt, tag the Elder, come back for Mrs. Nana, and land a parry right between her father's brows, just as he about to make that look judgment; the same that made Koko sick.
Gods, he had become such a dolt since the death of her mother - it was all "stay in class" and "obey your elders. "Go play with your sister" and "I don't have time for these games." But, he had tons of time to scold her publicly and apologize for her behavior whenever an item went missing from the schoolhouse, or a classmate started a fight. And ff he listened, he'd understand that bullfrog in Yume's pants was justice, but he never gave her his ear or his time. "I need to run an errand for the Elder! - don't follow me, Koko." He'd bark, once again prioritizing his work over his kids. And when he wasn't working, he was either hunting or ruining family meals with his grumpy moods and low tolerance for Cotla's one hundred questions about Mom.
Powering through the rugged roots of the underbrush, Koko reached the famous clearing - that same that her mother adored. A lush lawn of tall grass lay testament to her love, sprawling across the circle, dipping into a clear-water creek where minnows zipped between the rocks. Koko hopped between them, making her way to the gargantuan oak tree that dominated the center. "Koko's Tree - do not touch!" the bark read though some sap had obscured her signature. Fumbling for her pocket knife, Koko approached the oak.
Snap! - a branch fell! A violent scream knocked Koko to the ground! A man in the distance let out a loud wail! Charging strides tore up the foliage!
"What the hell, Dorian?!"
Dorian? Koko peered out from the tree's bark to find three crimson men with brandished blades hounding her father, suspending him on a rock. A sharp elbow to his bloody lips! - they cocked his mouth and choked him out.
Koko suppressed a scream - Yiga!
"You were supposed to tell us EVERYTHING!" Bellowed the Blademaster, grabbing the man's shirt.
Dorian wheezed, "N-No one knew!"
"No way no one knew! - you knew! And you didn't tell us!" The grunt hurled him to the ground and unleashed his footmen. Koko sank to the tree, strung by the sight of kicks against her Father's head.
He cried out, "Believe me! Believe me!"
"You're telling me the boy didn't consult the Sheikah? They knew he was freeing the castle!"
"He didn't tell me!" Her father wheezed, sounding so scared. He gulped, "Not me, not the Elder - no one knew he'd do it so soon!"
Slap!
Koko cupped her mouth, watching helplessly as the Yiga strung her dad up by his beard. Heart thumping, she whimpered, seeing his face break with anguish! "You're supposed to know! We're keeping you daughters alive so you'd know!'
"I gave you everything!" He yelled out, "His whereabouts, his route, the Elder's plan!"
Slam! - Koko flinched
Dorian scampered against a rock, badly beaten, and wiped the blood from his mouth, "Y-You had a whole year, and you still couldn't touch him?"
"Have you no respect?" They kicked him, whipped him with tree branches - Koko shut her eyes. "Tell me! What do you think we should do, Dorian? If you know everything, then tell us what's next? You've got a whole storm coming in to hide the boy and his insolent Princess! Three days later, they're surrounded by gangs and thugs!"
"Thugs? F-For ransom?"
"No!" The Master kicked up foliage, "For shitty protection. Hylians - believe it or not. Stupid, uneducated Hylians stalking their caravan like a pack of wild dogs after a century of being useless! Their group keeps swallowing our footmen. They've got a Fushia Fool throwing them in a locked wagon before they can get close."
"W-What about the other gangs?"
"All joined in for the fun! That bitchy Wetland boss is a woman, and here's the funny thing about women - they all have a soft spot for each other. And the Rivers Roans just couldn't help themselves."
There was an eerie silence - Koko peered out. The Blade Master stood with his foot on her father's chest.
"So, here's what you'll do, Dorian - to save your daughters' lives from my footmen here."
Those men cackled, brandishing their blades.
"Tell no one about their coming - not the Elder, not your guard-friends, not a soul. And once we're done here, you go out to the western entrance to meet them - butter up the boy hero, meet his Princess, and then free my footmen. They'll take care of the rest."
"You're telling me the footmen can't free themselves? Is illegal magic impervious to wooden bars?"
"Shut-up!"
"Y-You know what I think?" Wheezed Dorian, "I think you're afraid of the boy. Won't even try to get close unless you ambush him like a pack of wolves!"
Slap! Kick! - they unleashed a beating.
"Please," Dorian pleaded, "L-Link's onto me. I know he knows. If I come in, then he'll act. Everyone will know. My kids, the villagers."
"Then make it quick or die trying - that's all we will say to you."
"Wait - please!"
And with a puff of smoke, they were gone!
Koko caught her breath. Her hands fumbling, she groped the tree for some sort of anchor back to reality and listened to her father getting up from the ground - alive! He was alive. She heard a branch snap. That was him getting to his feet, wasn't it? Could he walk? Could he breathe? She heard moaning, cussing, and the snapping of crunchy foliage with each limp step across the clearing.
He couldn't see Koko, but she could see him.
"Dad?!" She stood, eyes watering.
He froze, frightened and bleeding, his own tears streaming
Up until she was seven, Zelda had never been trapped in a flash flood. En route from the annual trip to Kakariko, the line of guards marveled at the upcoming dark clouds; the King dismounted from his horse while servants spread their umbrella over his head; steeds kicked and reared at the demands of thunder. Zelda held her ears; Impa ran her to shelter, a crevice provided by the joining of two large boulders which had fallen into each so many years ago. Others joined while a hail unleashed itself on the grounds.
Two years had Zelda suppressed the loss of her mother, but the incoming brood of lightning and clouds stirred her from her stoicisms.
Where was her Father? Zelda kept searching- though, of course, the King was too precious to wrap his daughter in his arms beneath the same shelter - should a boulder slip and squash them both. So, Zelda clung to Impa's waist, wishing and wishing for two years to undo themselves. Oh please let the Goddesses take her back to the safety of her mother's sitting parlor; bring her mother in from the Great Curtain of Hylia, fill up their porcelain cups with hot jasmine tea; wrap them both with velvet blankets; and please, oh Hylia, let them laugh and braid each other's hair as they had used to when she was alive.
And no matter how simple or innocent such a storm could be in comparison to the raging Calamity, that experience came closest.
Plumes of smoke swirled and swirled around her while the grounds flooded with blood and malice, rising and falling with the Calamity's strength. When it filled, it drowned her in cold death, freezing her over like game in a cooler - yet, frozen was the goddess. Hylia was ice herself - encasing the Princess's body in an icy stasis, locking out thirst and the pangs of hunger. No breath, no touch, no taste - just the soul at large, grappling the Monster as it squealed and raged for a century. Two centuries? A fist full of decades? Just an onslaught of time while her soul suppressed and suppressed and suppressed the wrath of ages.
The beast writhed - she held it back!
It bellowed - she bit down her sobs.
But suddenly, the aroma of wildflowers plagued her. A smell? In this stasis? It was a subtle fragrance of clean-cut stems and feverous blossoms; earth and dirt drowned her senses, shifting her focus from the Monster and to the bubbling memories of rolling meadows; a desperate cry escaped her lips.
An opportunity for the monster! - it squirmed!
She tried to pull it back! But, the monster swirled and swirled like smoke in a bonfire. Flames rioted up the canvas around her! A table of cards up in smoke! Down came the wooden beams! Torn open was the red sky! A blood moon dawned overhead, soaking the burning beds and the champions who slept there in crimson pools.
"No! Stop!" She screamed.
Frantic, Zelda released her grip to get water.
"Please! No!"
A woman's voice answered her, "Honey, it's okay."
"Stop it! Please stop!."
"It's just a dream, sweetheart. Wake-up."
"I did this!" Zelda smacked something - the pang of it had her hand burning.
"Watch it! Hey! Careful!"
"I'm so sorry!"
"Hey Link? Link, I need you!"
Zelda woke to two hands on her shoulders - the smell of something more than wildflowers pacifying the storm inside. It was of grass, steel, and rainstorms. Link? His cerulean eyes filtered through the groggy fog, as it is when the rain clears and the ground teems with wisps beneath the blue sky. No storm clouds, just calm blue eyes beneath a wagon's bonnet. Its wheel hit a pothole, jostling the pair.
They were riding in the wagon? Link held her throughout the shaking, "Can you breathe?"
"N-No!" she wheezed. Her breath was in her gut, her stomach was tumbling - oh, she could vomit right now.
He imitated breath - she panted.
Again, he breathed in - she tried to follow.
He exhaled - she inhaled.
And when she let it all go, hot tears slipped down her cheek.
Link - beautiful, Link. Oh, she covered her face from the wonderful boy and sank away into the corner of the tent and covered her face, feeling the blood of his world scabbing over her hands. Mipha, Captain Arn - his father! - and the Late King of Hyrule sat on her shoulders; boring into her were the ghosts of the Old World - hefty gravity finally falling after four blissful days in Leekah's stable.
So much did she want the New World to be like the inn that had housed her: a cozy place despite the grime and stench of the wild, filled to the brim with aggressively kind people, pain coupled with laughter, bets, and card games - even the bloody bench was chopped up and used for fire world. A friend was always nearby, rain or shine, and rested through the commotion firing off like fireworks by the card table. But, up went the inn in flames, choking out that foolish dream.
The cart jostled them.
Leekah scampered in, "What do you need, sweetheart? - see Link I'm asking what these needs."
"Nothing! I need nothing!"
"Let's get your mind off things, honey - see I'm trying to deescalate the trauma, Link."
"No! - I'm fine! I'm fine."
"I know you're tough - a very tough girl. You decked my cheek back there in your nightmare."
Zelda tensed - a hot flash drenched her before she could react. Her spine tingled, her breath went wet, her stomach swam, "I need to vomit."
Link scrambled for a bucket; Leekah jumped in, her hands in Zelda's ratty hair, bundling the length while she leaned over - the nauseous build hurling up her stomach, growing, growing, and -
She vomited into a provided bucket. Her cheeks flushed - disgraceful!
But, between spouts, Zelda noted the wildflowers sifting in that wretched slew - they had fallen from her hair? Bluebells, Hyacinthoides; Yarrow, Achillea Millefolium; and buttercups, Ranunculaceae
Their names came so naturally - words she hadn't used in years.
Leekah plucked a daisy from her tresses, "Sorry, hun - you kinda slept on the bouquet some fellas picked for you."
Zelda touched her ears - more flowers fell, but she felt no joy,
"I'm sorry," she cried between gags, feeling so much shame.
"It's alright, girlie. Link and I, here, have probably seen it all. I was the puking Queen during my first trimester." Said she, gesturing to the waterskin for Link to retrieve, "And don't get me started on Lawdon's cooking skills - has me puking my guts every few weeks or so."
Link handed Zelda the bag - a clean, blue day in his eyes - yet, she could not hold the waterskin.
No, she dared not stare at them - utter poison to them both she was. Leekha's inn and those princess curtains of hers, obliterated! Link's world - destroyed! She was the Goddess of Death, decimation to his village, a slaughterhouse for his family and friends, a sharp blast to his mind, eradicating his precious memories, a Monster swallowing him in a stasis of her own crafting. The resurrection chamber! She brought him there - pressured by the golden triangle burning between their hands when mercy begged her to let him die after such a blow. 'You're late!' She wanted to shout out at the goddess, Link's body in her arms, 'You don't get to call the shots!' But, Zelda was too compliant. Too weak. She went on with their messy plan.
"You okay, honey?" Leekah caressed her cheek.
She shook her head, "I-I'm sorry."
"Quit apologizing. Take your time. Deep breaths."
Oh, what had it been like before her Goddess had raptured Link, employed a child with a sword, and drafted him into Zelda's war? - before that golden head was slammed with a helmet; those big, blue eyes laced with horrors of battles; his back slashed to pieces; guardian blasts burning his clothes; Calamity's wrath eating at his side! No, throw that away - let him be different from his Father; lock him away in a small town; give him a barn; surround him with animals; and marry him off to someone who'd protect that precious, simple life.
Yes - thought Zelda, peeking up at him - she needed to free him, right here before anything else could be said; before the wagon inched any closer to Kakariko.
Time slipping, it was now or never, but all that came out was more vomit.
But there Link was - patiently holding out the bucket for her.
The ruckus from outside stole the scene. According to Leekah, another man had been abducted by the caravan - somewhere in the mix was a wagon that held at least ten prisoners.
Even among shouting, cheering, and singing, the next two hours were miserable for Zelda - washed by her own exhaustion, plagued by the smell of vomit, a rancid stench of curled gruel that everyone put up with for the remainder of the ride. Meanwhile, the wagon jostled her back and forth; a skin of water sloshed between her shaking hands as Leekah held her from behind, humming a strange tune, cooing, talking about this and that. She rubbed Zelda's back, sometimes braiding her horribly hot head of hair as the lull rolled over her.
Every so often would Link look her way from the front of the wagon - one leg into the cart, the other on the jockey's seat where Linus sat singing to the horses he whacked.
Zelda couldn't face Link's gaze - especially after everything. But, surely, he was checking her stomach for breath, eyeing that throbbing pulse in her neck, and monitoring the water she was supposed to drink. He always did that - even before the Calamity's arrival.
Some time into the three hours, he had put up a curtain on the back of the cart so that Zelda wouldn't see out. Perhaps the view was horribly different from the Old World - too tragic for her to see in such a state. But, every so often, a breeze would filter in, furling up the hem of the drape, unveiling a quick peek - just endless dust from their three wagons, trotting horses, yelling men, and grungy thugs who saw her and waved their rusty spears. Did they know what she was? Did everyone know? Then, why wasn't anyone saying anything? Surely, Zelda had thousands of miserable questions to answer, millions of apologies to give, and forgiveness to beg for. Yet, people waved when they saw her looking. Some whispered; others pointed. One man even brought her a flower.
Old Gen reached in with Prairie Flax. "For you, Missy!"
Behind him, Quince and Yalero waved.
Timidly, Zelda took the flower.
"Hey!" Barked from beyond. Gen handed her the precious purple flower and darted - on his tail, Box flew in with his horse in full gallop, "Stay away from the wagon! I won't tell you again, Gen!"
Dust wafted through the wagon bed - sending them all coughing. Link crawled over and reset the curtain, pinning down its skirt with his bag.
"Thank you, Link." Leekah spat. She rubbed Zelda's back, "And how are you doing, honey?"
Afraid to answer, Zelda directed the attention to Gen's flower in her hands, "Linum Lewisii."
"Sorry?" Came Leekah.
"This flower - a researcher I knew called it that."
"You like flowers?"
She nodded. "I studied them a long time ago."
"Then let's get you more!"
Weakly, she shook her head. "N-No, that's quite alright."
Bravely looking up from the blossom, she found Link, whose gaze darted away the moment she gazed upon him. Could she look at him? Was she allowed to talk to him after all she had done? Nightmares ensued, deepening the gorge between them, but the consequence of ignoring him was too tragic after all his heroism - it pained her gut.
"H-He'd help me study." She peeped. His eyes snapped back, "I wasn't allowed in the meadows unless supervised."
In a moment of strength, she met his eyes.
He held a startled expression - lips pressed together, eyes wide as if Zelda had said something profound. Hadn't she, though? This was a piece of information from the sacred past he knew nothing about.
Leekah bundled her hair, "Was there any other help? Surely, there were more qualified men for the job than this young thing here."
"No," Zelda said too plainly, holding out the purple blossom for him to take. "He was the best."
Awkwardly - as if not fully understanding the gesture - he took it and waited for her to take it back. Only after she leaned back into Leekah's arms did he realize the token.
His eyes searched hers.
She nodded - too weak to smile, too ashamed to pull him close.
And looking between her and the petite petals, he brought the flower to his chest.
Suddenly, the wagon begam to lean - Zelda and Leekah tumbled backwards; Link grabbed the front for balance.
"It's uphill from here!" Cried Linus from the front..
Zelda peeked out - the Sahasran Slopes, and Kakariko's southern entrance lay at the top. Hot wind barreled through, blowing back her tresses, wrapping her eyes in hair. She pushed back the mess for the immaculate view - true to her memories. An empty slope laden with vibrant green grass aimed up at the vast Hyrulean sky. The same heat clouds gathered; their fluff swelled in the summer sunset, making Zelda's broken heart swoon for just one moment.
Pacified, she lowered her eyes to the beautiful boy's shoulders up ahead - he was still holding his flower, staring up at the sky too..
He turned - it looked like something was on his mind. He opened his mouth to say something, but he looked uneasy, watching Leekah cautiously. But Link wanting to say something at all was too captivating, so Zelda pushed herself closer to him - but the boy kept eyeing their company as if what he had to say was not for their hearing.
"The sheikah elder." He started innocuously - his eyes were intense, delivering a secret message for her to know. "Her name is Impa."
Zelda searched him for the joke.
But, his face never broke.
"Impa?" Zelda stuttered.
Link nodded - knowing his message had landed.
Zelda held her breath. Certainly, he couldn't mean her Impa? The Impa that raised her? The Impa that dressed her, cared for her, and visited her in her bedroom parlor? Surely, he meant an Impa descendent - an Impa daughter? An Impa granddaughter?
"I-Is this a family name?" She kept on with his tone.
Link shook his head.
Zelda broke, repeating her name in her head until whispering, "She's there?"
"I've been meaning to tell you."
Again tears were spilling, but Zelda wiped them away and smiled - a fragile one.
Link returned it - up until there came a commotion from the front.
Up ahead, a Rito flew in - already people were throwing rocks and spears while it circled in the colors of sunset. A Rito? Here? In Kakariko - Zelda eyed his green feathers, thinking of the colors of her long deceased friend.
"Why are they threatening him?!"
"Stop, you brutes!" He shouted, coasting the currents, "I carry a message from Kakariko!"
"Hylians!" Yelled Lawdon from the pack, "Stop! Let him down!"
"But, Lawdie!" Cried Lick, "He's got a falcon bow! He can do too much damage with that! He's a threat!"
"He brings a message!"
"Land!" Yelled Box, "And name a price for that bow!"
But he took no landing; he dropped a Kakarikan Kodachi with a note tethered to its mantle. It fell to the dirt - people piled onto it.
"Bring that sword here," Lawdon cried. "If you have any respect for the kids in this wagon."
A string of men trotted the kodachi over - Link took it quickly and read the note three times over. Next came him crawling back into the wagon, handing the note over to Zelda and Leekah.
Was that Impa's writing? Yes, that was definitely her cursive: Zelda could kiss the paper.
"Keep Her in the wagon. Intelligence says you're traveling with captured Yiga. More at the entrance. The sheikah will clear the foothills and assist. When you see them, ride fast with civilians. Warriors and gangs stay to fight.."
"Lawdon!" Yelled his wife, scampering towards the front of the wagon, "Come check this out."
Acting fast, he switched sides with the women, pinning his body against the side closest to the wagon of prisoners - should any arrows come hurling in through the bonnet. Getting ready, he unsheathed his sword and laid it on the bed of the cart. Out from beneath the clothes in the wagon came the Hylian shield; he held it out in front of them in response to the slow, ominously approaching threat.
Zelda shut her eyes - burning tents flared up in the darkness.
For the feeling of damsel-hood crept up on her. Once again was she being targeted - another castle of exhaustion encasing her while Link fought.
If she reached back, could she grab his bag? Could she find a dagger? Could she be helpful with it?
She turned, but energy evaded her. Still, she fumbled for the strap of the pack but lacked the strength to pull it close.
Link set his hand on the bag -
"What do you need?"
She shut her eyes, "Something I can use to help."
He looked down for a long moment before drawing up his words, "Can I ask you to just rest?"
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Everyone - they've been too kind.."
"We want to be."
"I can't let you. Not now - I'm too anxious."
One arm upholding the shield, Link searched the folds in the fabric with his free hand. Out came a bluebell. He held it out for her.
"This one." He stammered. "I don't know its name."
Though confused, her disposition hyper-focused on the purple trumpet. This was a distraction from the impending trauma. A healthy one - and Link knew it.
"Bluebell." She pushed away a tear. "Hyacinthoides."
A shy smile flickered - he laid it on top of his pack.
"And this one?" He held out a yellow blossom.
"Buttercup, Ranunculaceae."
Next, he dug into his tunic pocket and pulled out another purple blossom - he kept it? Zelda eyes welled, "T-The one you gave me?"
"Prairie flax." She huffed, beaming a bleary smile, "Linum Lewisii"
"What's - uh," he looked around for more, but there was none of a different kind. He improvised, "What's your favorite to study?"
"The Silent Princess." She nodded, "Definitely the Silent Princess."
"Can you tell me more about it?"
And Zelda, shyly, went on, letting her knowledge of wildflowers drown out the impending stress.