The Lons congregated at the Gathering Fire to bring in their dead brother. His closest family, the Tanner Clan, took his body and the men were already piling wood cords around an iron brazier. Oily rags were tucked in bundles and lined the top of the bier. Gently, his brothers and father lifted the limp man from the litter to his pyre, adjusting the body into place with discomforting tugs. Link's skin prickled when he pictured the splinters, though dead flesh could feel nothing.

"Make your offerings," Talon intoned in ceremonial sympathy as the fire pit behind him was also banked with logs ready for lighting. His gift to his comrade was a long, pointed cow horn.

The runners must have called everyone back, Link surmised, still atop Epona, watching the funeral rites proceed. A line of stricken faces was headed to the bier, and with some private observation, Link saw the shuffling of statuses, probably correcting the placement of an individual Clan over a subset. Some carried cloth goods, others held leathers or carved crafts, and each bauble was reverently placed with the so-recently deceased man on his final resting spot. The crowd was growing by the minute.

"It always happens fast," Malon put a fist clutching rope forward to take her mare's child to the stable. Link hopped down and tied the guide to Epona.

"Should I make an offering?"

The redhead was pensive as she tucked her hair behind an ear. "You were there, huh?"

"I feel some responsibility."

"Don't. But go ahead and give him something for the afterlife." Malon smiled sadly, and led Epona to the stables.

He did not smirk. They held his "Growing-Up" Lore in the same light. Beliefs and realities aside, he watched the finite line of grievers slowly tick away. Link felt his pouch and riffled through the contents: his sling rocks, stray jerky, the little pebble from the Deku Tree's meadow, crumbs, nothing worthy of his single gift. All the grass around his feet was stomped into short sod, and finding a twig for a quick finger-craft was laughable on the plains. However, a single clear-eyed daisy waved in the wind, catching his gaze, and Link tenderly snapped his stem to claim tribute. That species, Link recalled with an ironic taste, spread by rootlets, not seeds.

He laid it upon the youth's chest with the other crafted or floral offerings. A young woman at the front of the grievers was weeping into slim hands, and the adults to her right resembled the boy on the bier. At once, Link sympathized with their inconsolable loss, and his own heart clenched to think he would never see Saria again. He gulped, realizing his observation was noticed. The couple knew who was gaping at them, and possibly how he was related their son's death. His blood froze as he awaited his verdict to appear in their eyes.

The husband reached out and wrapped his oaken arms around his wife's shoulders, and she melted into his embrace. Neither could manage any words, but strained smile-like expressions mangled their sorrow. A few unwarranted tears wetted Link's face. There was nothing to forgive. Despite the Lon's parents' acceptance, the stone of death weighed heavy in the lowest point of Link's heart.

"Clansmen and Lon-women, we are here at our Gathering Fire to remember our dear son, Alta Tanner," cadenced a man in a navy robe. He lifted a hinged, wooden box above his head, and deposited it with Alta, brushing fingers over the dead from head to toe. Link could have sworn there was some sort of heat distortion between the man's palms and the body, but it was over and done apparently, and he had no chance to revaluate.

His apprentices, Link surmised by their light blue robes, were billowing a snowy linen cover over the body and possessions in time with this unfamiliar priest's eulogy. His pouchy face and pudgy form were sweaty indicators of indulgence, markedly different than Sterling's acetic lifestyle. Link watched Talon, but there was none of the vinegar-laden patience he bore with the nasty holy man. Still, he and Navi vowed wariness and took a place between two men who reeked of cattle.

"Not but an hour has passed since your death, Alta, and it reminds us how close death is to life. Be joyous," He stressed the last word as the apprentices laid the second linen sheet over the young man. "Your mortal suffering is ended, and a life by Nayru's side shall endure your spirit." He bowed his head and hummed a single, lingering note of benediction. "And no man in is ever truly dead, so long as his name is spoken, and Alta, we remember you."

"We remember you, Alta," The whole Clan emulated in a harmony-less chorus, and Link refrained, too late to join even the stragglers in the crowd. A third linen was draped and the apprentices with torches stood at the four corners.

"We lay to rest your body, Alta, only the form of your mortality, and release your spirit to the winds, the grass, the earth, and the sky. I bid your name to live in our memories, Alta."

"We remember you, Alta!" Link was ready for it, but his dutiful sanction was lost among the cry directed to the sun, and it may have shaken the stars, for all he could tell. He'd never heard 300 people shout in unison before that moment. Navi pretended not to notice his visible trembling as the crowd repeated their mantra, "We remember you Alta!" Somehow growing louder each time, the voices became more and more insistent until the crying reached a bellowing volume. Then, the pudgy man in the navy robe halted the faltering chorus with a great thrusting gesture of his hands.

Burning brands were thrust into the unlit pyre, and Alta's body of possessions was consumed in wreaths of oil-soaked and oddly bright, blue-tinged flames. Ash and smoke danced on the waves of heat and rose to the scant clouds in ropes of blue. Even more strangely, the linen covers refused to burn. Children fidgeted, adults of all sub-Clans grieved, some a bit impatiently, but every person stood at attention for their Clan mate until only embers remained, and the linens streaked with soot were eaten away by the hungry fire to reveal fine, sandy ash. Not a bone or button remained, and the iron brazier was starkly empty when it had just been full.

As the encircled crowd began to disperse, Link reminisced about a different broken circle from an earlier time. His fallen brother, Rido Weaver, and a sister, Batia Hidehind were the only deaths he had known in the Forest, and when he thought of them, it was as the stoic loom master and a mistress of hunting disguises with a flair for dramatics. Rido had Grown-Up into a Snow Bunting, the tiny white winter avian puffball, and the antlers of a very territorial elk gored Batia, but those were merely their ends. Their lives were far more important, their Gifts and Ties with their siblings remaining strong despite an end to their lives.

As one of Saria's primary duties, she kept track of every Brother and Sister in an esoteric system of representative totems engraved in slate. Of course, that was her style. Other Wisest Brothers and Sisters before her had chosen to mark the population on individual trees, boulders, clay tablets, woven into basketry art, and a solitary metal bracelet pierced with meaningless holes. Generations were documented, in a way, but they became unrecognizable in two or three generations and so truly, the Kokiri could die.

In a world of parchments and records and letters and books, and ceremonies like the one he witnessed, Link reasoned in a lightning offshoot, he wondered if any soul was ever forgotten. As long as a name persisted in memory, that soul would never die.

Frown twisting his lips, Link felt his heart sink at the perverse polarization Navi was instilling in him. Couldn't he fight this?

"And remain ignorant?"

Stop listening! He thought waspishly. Following the flow of the crowd towards a savory-smelling set of tables, they continued their silent argument.

"You're on the right track, and I'm sorry it upsets you. You're also getting some of it from my thoughts. It goes both ways, and I think I need to be less subtle about it."

Really? I would appreciate it if I didn't feel so coldly analytical.

"Oh please, you have no idea just how dark and cynical teenagers can be!"

I think I might, he said threateningly. He felt her amusement as clearly as a laugh.

"Your angst is not a weapon. I'm understanding more and more about you, Link."

Thankfully, Malon and Talon were silent, sober and appropriately sad as they sat themselves towards the head of the table, and ladies and boys were ferrying dishes to the wooden surface. Each awaited some symbol before grabbing at the food.

Link probed. And what does that mean, Navi? What have you learned?

"Alphonse helped the fire along, you know," Navi informed him.

The priest? How can you tell?

"It was pretty restrained, but you should have felt or heard the force keeping the linens from revealing a burning body. Didn't you find that odd?"

He distinctly remembered thinking just that.

"It also went a lot faster than if he'd let it go naturally." Navi was silent for a moment, floating closer. "I think you may be magically deaf."

He could only stare in disbelief at his blue friend.

I have excellent hearing. And I can hear you easily enough.

"Not when it comes to detecting the use of magic and will," Navi regretted, offering the Kokiri gesture of apologetic open palms. "Saria's spells should have been like thunder."

Maybe to a fairy-

"No, Link," she shook her head minutely. "Saria uses the magic of the forest, which hums all the time, and on the Long Night, it absolutely sings. The Old Forest especially is nearly electric, and when you communed with the Deku Tree, it was like a whole storm at once. You have no idea how loud magic is, or that it even makes noise and sometimes light-"

Wait, light? When Saria made charms or offerings, there was always tons of light, but I thought it was just the mixture she threw into the fire. The bit of heat distortion between Alphonse and Alta, and the bluish flames, those were brighter than a normal fire. Blue. Why does that tickle something? Link was weaving a delicate picture, and he was poised on the very edge of new knowledge, the tapestry gaining coherence, if only he could find the threads he was groping for in his brain. Out of the blue, the first few days of his journey into the plains burst open, and flooded him with a specific memory.

What about your light? When you study the environment, I almost can't see you through your glow.

He shut her out for a second. She immediately dimmed. How about that? His thought touched her mind, and she lit up again. I can see when-

"I understand now. You see it, but it's always been hidden in plain sight from you. This was the key."

He knew exactly which lock she meant, and on cue, Alphonse directed the Lons to share a last communion with Alta.

After the hushed meal, it was just as noiselessly cleared away, and most of the somber Clan mates trickled back to the Longhouse, or chores in necessary cases, to relieve those who watched horses and cattle during the proceedings. Link followed Talon and his relatives to the fire in the common hall closest to their room, and more alcohol was passed around. He decided to pass when some liquor from a cask was volunteered to fill his cup. Watching Talon and the men get drunk and stumble over lyrics couldn't hold Link's attention for long, and a sober Malon took him through the door to their chambers. Ingo was in his bed, resting on an elbow and flipping the pages of a worn, cracked book, and he did not even glance up at the new arrivals. Link waited for Malon's example, and sat beside her on the floor in front of the fireplace. She was smoothing the grain of the carpet beneath her fingers, blankly looking into the flames. Gerick was the next one through the door, bringing a cloud of alcoholic fumes, but a dark slick down the front of his tunic was the culprit, not toxic inebriation.

"Sorry for thet poor kid today," he lamented and whisked the slopped shirt from his torso.

"If we hadn't rode by, he wouldn't have shown off," Link said, hanging his head.

"Oh, don't start this again," Navi whined and hopped from the beam in her customary spot in the low rafters. She turned to the older Lon gentlemen. "He seemed excitable. Was he usually that showy?"

"Navi!" Link gasped at her brazen question. Gerick, however, showed no such compunction, and still, Ingo ignored them.

"Alta always said he was gonna be a trick rider, the best in the world, and he weren't afraid of lettin' young ladies know it, never mind his proposal to Vanda."

The quiet fire popped and sizzled like a second eulogy.

"We don't linger with goodbyes," she said to the boy and fairy. "I know it seems so abrupt-"

Link sensed the deal in Malon's voice, and raised a hand to kindly silence her. "Neither do the Kokiri. When the red body no longer lives, we have a gathering to grieve, and yet, we rejoice, telling stories and impersonating the dead in an effort to laugh. I never felt like laughing at those times. Saria always told us of the cycle of death and renewal, and how important it is to enjoy the lives we have, and to be glad for the time our Brother or Sister lived among us." An unnatural idea popped up. "I wonder if they had a funeral for me." The image of Mido dressed in rabbit skins and white paint pretending to pout or mess up hunts was not a flattering one.

"I'm sure you won't be forgotten, but I can't imagine Saria arranging your funeral after returning from the outskirts of the forest," Navi imparted, and she didn't have to implant the image of the girl, prostrate and wailing for the loss of her friend. He was still alive, after all.

"Malon," Navi continued carefully. "I think we need to do some planning before too long. We're going to Market with you, and I know we talked about the Royal Family, briefly."

"As I was falling asleep."

"Yes. As you know, I have been assigned a task by the Deku Tree, and it involves some extensive traveling, if I understood my directions correctly." She was fluttering close to Link. "Those instructions are a little vague in my partner's case.

"I don't want to belittle Alta's death, but I'm a spirit of knowledge, and I'm connected to the world. There is nothing that happens around this kid that is coincidence or happenstance. I feel the ripples he makes when he rolls of the furs in the morning, whether he's hungover or not."

Malon and Gerick were actually nodding in agreement, like they had any idea what Navi describing. Ripples, indeed! For once, he completely approved of Ingo's indignant huff.

"It looks like the universe really went out of its way to bring an estranged, gifted Hylian boy back into the fold. We've told you there's really no reason for him to stay in the forest, and we happen to fall in with a family of Hylians that knew the pitfalls of immediate and subversive immersion."

"Don't forget, he has that sword too," Malon twittered, toying with the carpet again, making swirly designs with her fingers. "He found it just in time to get that monster spider."

"Ridiculous," Ingo snuffled. Link vigorously nodded. He didn't really defeat Gohma, the giant spider fell on his sword!

"But uncle, those stories Pa told about a hero with mysterious origins always start with this pattern!" Her blue eyes were twinkling violet, and her lips were playing with a mischievous smile. Was she teasing him?

"Oh sure, go ahead and plan his life on letters that might have been his parents and fuggen' moth-eaten myths! That's real logical," Ingo snarled in his glorious sarcasm. "Do ya really think the world somehow arranged for him to be orphaned and cast out? That seems like bad luck to me! Bad things just happen, like Alta, like the boy's abandonment! That's all there is to life!" He slammed his book closed. "Sure, there're pretty sunsets and neat-o swords, but yer readin' too much into a series of events that has nothin' to do with heroism. There isn't even evil in the world anymore, except for what's in men's hearts, and, you can't stab everyone's heart with that sword."

"Everything is connected, Ingo," Navi said stiffly, simultaneously portraying to Link another one of these lessons was imminent. "Considering the nature of your objections, I'd even go so far to assume the Universe arranged for you to be here with that cynical assery."

"Again," he growled, leaning towards the sprite. "It's preposterous to assume anything. If there really is a reason for each tiny thing that happens, then why-" He gasped, pulled up short, an obviously forbidden memory about to leap from his jowls into the presence of the living. He let out a creaking sigh, breaking his concentration and swiftly switched tactics. He sneered vilely, "So what did Alta's death mean, then?"

"It answered a question for us," Navi defended. "Before today, Link had no idea magic had physical signs."

"Hey!" the blond snorted angrily. "Isn't that private?"

"He asked."

"And he has the right to know?" He was just agreeing with Ingo, his brain screamed at his heart, trying to prevent his mouth from tangling matters further. He needed a voice of reason! "Ingo, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

With a disgusted little wave, the patriarch's brother related, "I don't have a right, and I don't want a right to whatever stories your brains are gonna cook up. There're enough untruths lying about civilization that I don't need no more. And if yer still convinced by the sprite, I'm only doing what I'm sposed to, right?" He coldly shunned the two family members in his room and slammed the door behind him.

"Does it really go so deep?" Malon asked obscurely, disappointed with her uncle's usual exit.

"Maybe deeper, maybe not," Navi said as a non-committal. "We just started this journey, so who knows if I'm even right at all about this being connected."

"But you think it does," Gerick volunteered, flabby, white stomach on display as he wrestled a blanket around his shoulders. "I do too." Conspiratorially, the wrinkled man glanced around and disclosed this: "In my ninety years, I seen men and women do small things, charitable, angry, vengeful or otherwise, and inevitably, those small things add up to their life's work. The sum of your life is how many other lives you've affected by doing those things."

"What is an ocean but a multitude of drops?" Navi repeated sagely.

"Stop!" Link popped, surprised with his volume, and retreated his tone behind safe lines. "I'm…I'm just a drop in this ocean, and you all keep agreeing that I'm some incredible example!" He tucked his chin, wringing fingertips. "I think Ingo's right, and we should just go to the Market and ask about the letter. All I want is some kind of plan, not all this cosmic pondering."

Malon had wiped her smile away, but her secret heart was revealed in the amusement still twitching her lips. "Alright, Link. We'll let it lay." She rose from the carpet and settled herself onto the edge of her bed. "Have you ever heard any of the legends, Navi?"

"Now, wait-"

"As a matter of fact, I do know a little about the story," Navi sidestepped in mid-air, sparing her furious friend's ignorance for the time being. "The forest has a long memory. I know of one visitor."

"Ah, then I'll wait another day to tell the tale," Malon said with a stretch of her arms and a following yawn. "Would you like to hear about the Lon Clan's history? I doubt anyone's told you how we got to be riders and wranglers."

"That, I want to hear," Link said vehemently, clutching at the plush rug. "Tillman told me and the kids a little of it when we visited the stables on my second day. He said the Lons were nomads, and the cattle made a mess of things."

Gerick's head bobbled in nods. "Thet's right. Our ancestors began taming horses from the West, and hunted the game animals of the plains, like the deer and cattle. Now that you know what it is to fly over the ground, imagine the bravery of those first riders." Link smiled sideways. "Our ultimate Grandmother, Red Shank, was the one to tame the berry-colored horses, like Aeponn and Epona. Eventually, the breeding lines were refined and sold as work animals to pull wagons or let nobles get around without muddyin' their boots. Wagons and carriages and wheeled things became all the rage, thanks to the strength of horses.

"Then, when civilization began imposin' roads through the grass, the cattle clogged the lanes. Herds of standing animals blocked these paths, and our people, who were only one of the ancient Clans roaming Hyrule Field, became adept at movin' them beasts. It became an occupation, clearing cattle to a safe location. It became easier to dictate the cow's movement than reacting to it, and every clan out there began wranglin' 'em. Spats between us and them revolved around care, so the worst herders' animals was absorbed into those more capable hands, and the others would have to start over with a feral herd. Most of the cattle was tamed thet way and the Lon Clan secured its place as the Herdsman of Hyrule."

"There are still a few nomadic clans," Malon revealed. "The rest were absorbed into the prosperous Lon Clan, and a central hub, Homestead, arose as the beacon of industry for hundreds of seasons. Here, the Clans that swore loyalty to the Patriarch or Matriarch produce goods second-to-none, and help bolster the Royal Claim on my family. What began as shipments of cheese, milk and meat has become our annual trip to Market, and I'm sure you've heard people talking about their Tributes."

"The girls making butter? I thought it was for some Royal order," Navi pondered. "So this order and the Tribute are the same?"

"Yes. We have a quota to meet, and everything else is open to public sale once we reach Market," Malon informed them. "Not only do we take the cream of our crops, but the most skillful weavings, dyed linens, woodcrafts and metal tools are presented as a confirmation of our loyalty."

"There's a tent in the Market waitin' for us," Gerick continued as he settled deeper into his blanket, eyes turning distant. "The people in town get a taste of the prairie, and we make a pretty rupee."

Link directed a small thought to Navi: Mullick promised to teach me about money.

"Good. That will be useful."

"How would you have gotten your Tribute to Market without coming to Homestead?" Link asked with cocked brows.

The natives smiled. Malon shrugged, and told him, "You've see the wagons in the north quarter. Our hands have been loading all saleable products into them from our storehouses. That train'll move out on the fourth day before Summer's Triangle disappears over the southern ridge."

"Those are the stars overhead in spring and summer? In the forest, they would already be gone," the blonde boy's shoulders fell. "Is it really so late in the year? Taproots ready for pulling…Pokeberries bearing…"

Navi floated to his side, soothing his memories. "We have a new routine to learn, I guess."

Link also remembered his awkward promise to leave the Lons once he'd found his purpose. This trip to the Market would be as good a place as any to try. "When do we move out, then?"

"Two days," Malon grinned widely. "We still have the veggies and raw goods to harvest for our first visit. There's always another trip closer to the end of autumn for the pumpkins, squash and corn."

"So the ranchers bring the cattle, and the farmers of Homestead come with a pre-approved cargo at a specific time," Navi filled in, straying from Link a little. "So if we had been any later, Talon wouldn't have found us outside of Cottonwood Camp." The shock dripped in her voice.

"Oh, Navi, another clue!" Malon giggled helplessly. Gerick's wattles vibrated in his ironic chuckling.

Link could only brood sullenly.