Author's Notes:

Thanks for the reviews, those of you who have posted them so far! Here's the latest chapter, although I must admit I'm not quite satisfied with it, although I can't put my finger on why, exactly. So please, review, and be brutal! This fanfic is actually sort of an exercise for me. I've been doing way too much research on my writing lately, and not enough actual writing, so I tried to sit down and quickly think up a story idea from scratch, just to get busy writing something, anything. So I know it won't be perfect, and please, do rip it to shreds. I won't mind, and I need the practice. ^_^

And actually, I had not planned on there being any romance in this story...but I'm sort of making it up as I go, so you never know! Warning, however, I don't throw romance around casually in most of my recent stories, so if you do see it, it will be very understated. However, I am working on another fanfic that I may post soon that has some Link/Zelda interaction in it. Well, I've been way too wordy, and this is supposed to be a chapter, not a speech. :P So on with the fic!

Chapter 2:
The Earth Pounds

Daydra's rust-red hair, tangled and mussed and messily tied back in something that resembled a ponytail, streamed out behind her as she sprinted down the road. Just ahead of the young Hylian ran Gindro, the long-legged man who was hailed as the fastest runner in the city of Sestris. Daydra cursed to herself as she realized that she had made a mistake this time. For all of her boasting, she was no match for this man. She'd kept up at first, but she was beginning to lag behind, and the way he still breathed easily as he loped along, she knew she'd never catch up to him now.

She gave it her best effort, at least, but Gindro crossed the finish line when she still had half the length of the field to go. Daydra kept running, not wanting to stop before she finished the race, but she slowed to a halt as soon as she crossed the line scratched in the dirt, bending at her knees and gasping for breath. "All right! You win. I was outclassed this time."

Gindro, who was some ten years the senior of the fifteen-year-old, grinned. "Maybe next time you'll be able to see with your own eyes what everyone else can tell merely by looking," he chuckled as he accepted her money. "Although I will say, squirt, that you did a fair job of it. Keep practicing and training, and maybe a few years down the road, you'll be the one taking some overconfident kid's money."

Daydra winced, her ire rising, but she quelled it. Normally she would have given in, but this time she knew she was in a hurry. She'd just handed over a good deal of the money she would need to get home, so now it was doubly important that she waste no time. She only muttered and walked away as the older man just laughed good-naturedly and began to stroll back to the village, whistling to himself.

Walking back to the starting line, Daydra picked up her pack and checked its contents. A large stack of books took up most of the space inside and made it extremely heavy, but there was also a small bag of rations for her journey — enough for two days, maybe, if she were careful not to get greedy. She tied her waterskin to her belt and shouldered her pack, then started walking, despite how tired she already was. It was still early in the day, and she could cover plenty of ground if she started now.

Though she was only fifteen, the girl was the Sage of Fire in the Temple of Sages in Hyrule's capital city. To be honest, some of the other sages often questioned if it had been a mistake, but the naming of new sages was a mysterious process, and some of the strangest candidates were chosen. There had been younger, after all; the Zora boy who had preceded Elges as Sage of Ice had been only ten when he was named. Anyone was welcome to enter the Temple on the Day of Choosing and touch the Naming Stone, which hummed when it found a new sage. Some of the most unlikely sages had done some of the greatest deeds, in ages past.

Daydra knew she was in a precarious position, however. It was not unheard of for a Sage to be deposed and replaced, and for a time there, she had come close to that point. Her impetuosity was a danger to all around her, but in the last few months, she'd been working hard to control herself and her temper. So far, so good, but she had a funny feeling that there was more at stake than just her position as a sage. If she couldn't do her job properly, listen to the advice of the older sages, or be serious about her role, other people could be hurt.

There'd been attacks on travelers recently, which was another reason Daydra had to hurry and get as far as she could before nightfall. She'd had the rudiments of training in self-defense with the simple dagger she carried, but sages were not fighters, and the rumors said that it had been monsters behind the attacks, not mere bandits and highwaymen. In fact, Daydra was supposed to have hired an escort, but with most of her money gone, she could only hurry home as fast as possible. It wasn't entirely her fault — the fee for borrowing books from the library in Sestris had been much higher than expected.

Daydra's small set of three hand-drums, tied to the straps of her pack, thumped dully against the bulk of books inside. The books spoke of prophecies made in times past, as well as religion and mythology. Laruto had requested most of them; she seemed to be doing some sort of research, and although she hadn't said what it was about, Daydra was worried. She seldom saw the Zora woman so stern as when she was frowning to herself and pacing the library at the Temple. That, and a strange feeling that ran through her whenever she played her drums in time with the music of the other sages, suggested to Daydra that something was wrong. Was the Triforce in danger, or perhaps the Master Sword? Both were the responsibility of the sages to protect.

Since her drums were tied up and out of the way, and she could not play them as she walked in any case, Daydra began to tap out a complicated rhythm against the side of her dusty, wrinkled, brown traveling skirt of practical, heavy-woven cotton. Her rather oversized, freckled nose wrinkled up almost comically as she concentrated, trying to work out the beat to a particularly complicated piece that Fado had been working on when she left. Her footsteps fell into tempo with her tapping, and she began to walk faster, steadily heading closer to home. She would stop only at dusk, hopefully reaching the town of Bisren before then. By tomorrow evening she should be home, if she hurried.

Somehow she felt that time was marching faster than her drumming footsteps...