Sunshine flooded the green ocean of grass, and Link was nearly invisible within the ripening wild wheat and rye. He stealthily passed a stand of rye and spied the hard, cancerous, black growth of ergot fungus, which Hylians collected to induce labor, though it was always under the guidance of a magic-user or healer. Saria made "trance materials" with varying recipes, including the smelly spores of ergot, certain mushrooms or thornapple when she needed to cast the strongest charms in the forest. She was as one dreaming while awake, sensitive to the lifeforce and currents of magic, eyes open to the invisible world that surrounded the Kokiri. The burdened stalks waving in the wind remained untouched as Link continued his hunt.

For the first time since traveling by wagon, he was stalking game, foraging for the native vegetables of the field, and enjoying a moment by himself. It was glorious to be out from under the Younger Goriyo's watch, Sterling's contemptible scrutiny and even the easy bravado of Sergeant Jessel. While he positively adored the blonde soldier, she and the adoptive Lons were tiring. By no means was he the total center of attention; wagon trains required too much coordination, cattle didn't drive themselves and people were unruly at best in such a large quantity. Link was, however, a Child of Destiny now, a heavy responsibility, and it was reflected in every interaction he held with anyone. His patience was running very thin. Each interaction was punctuated with perfect respect, or awe, or adulation. Nothing seemed genuine anymore.

He traced a rabbit through the long grass, the silty soil peppered with pawprints, and looked around for a possible waterway. His water skin was almost empty. Small pebbles also hid among the clumps of blue grass, and the size increased as he walked to his left. In another moment, Link found a tiny rill that cut through the surrounding sod. By a rock and a dry clump of rushes, the head of a hare poked through the screen of vegetation, tiny pink tongue lapping and rippling the slow water. The expert hunter loaded his sling and released the projectile in two subtle movements, and was thrilled to see the stone make its mark. The hare tumbled limply into the stream, and Link gathered his quarry, and refilled his canteen.

His hunter's heart told him he did not need the meat, and there was more than enough food with the wagon train, but when he smoothed the pelt of the wet animal, he decided to field dress his prey. His fingers itched to craft. All he owned in Kokiri was the fruit of his hands' labor. Out here, his possessions were gifts, luxurious, superfluous gifts. Link scouted around to locate some driftwood left by the same flood as the silt in the grass, and used the green sinew of the hare to string a frame together. He stretched the scraped hide over the sticks, planning on processing the fur as they headed north, bundling that with the gutted carcass.

Link caught up with the wagons in little time, his loping stride more than a match for their trundling, and the jog deliciously stretched his muscles. He came to Jim and Cella's rolling kitchen, and the bevy of begging children squawked with delight when he presented his meat.

"I've got some tarragon to go with this," Link told the chubby woman as he climbed aboard, nestling on the dried goods crates. "And there was some ergot a little ways back, but I let it be."

"Ever the provider," Cella appreciated. "A few more of these, and there might be enough to feed three people."

Link smiled. "I remember a time in my life when a single hare was plenty for ten."

Cella had already begun to quarter the little morsel with a thunk of her butcher's chopper, and winked. "And that was in a stew with a garden's-worth of grains and veggies, right?"

"It was," he conceded. He brought a handful of herbs out of his pouch, and looked down his nose in imitation of Farmington's wives. "I'll take my dinner with Malon at sundown."

"Aw, Link, you aren't going to share?" Mullick whined, catching the older boy's sarcasm as quickly as the wagon.

"I suppose I can," he offered with a lofty roll of his eyes. It was a great joke to see the Emissary as snooty as the delicate ladies he dined with before they left the plains-town. He and Link clasped hands heartily.

"Oh, he'll share, alright," Navi admonished as she fluttered back to Link. "Glad to see the expedition was a success."

"I'd've come with ya, hunting, but Navi said you needed to get out of sight from those dingleberries. I don't blame ya. That Gorey is a piece of work."

"Sterling is fairly insufferable, too," Cella added. "He preaches a good word, but he's starting to believe that he was the one who campaigned for your acceptance here. Rubbish." She was mincing tarragon as if it were a live rattlesnake, swept it from the board and shoved it into a waiting vessel with as much venom. "'Tween me an' you, Link didn't deserve his attention those first days. Wonder what he's playing at."

"Yeah, we were the first to get to know Link," Mullick realized. "Navi stayed to talk to the adults, and my troupe showed him a good time at Cottonwood Camp."

"You were really being a show-off," Link stated dryly.

The native boy's jaw popped open to refute, but as he recalled that day in the stables, despite him and Zephane, it was surprising that Link took to them at all, and he smirked. "You didn't know anything, but you knew so much about the forest and living on your own."

"Ah, so you were jealous," said the cook. Her board was clean, and the rabbit was in a pot, ready to be cooked over a fire when they stopped for the night. "I know you want to live like that, away from all the rules, but I think you'll find there are rules to living anywhere. That about right, your Emissary-ness?"

"Yes, your cookness," Link replied with an overly florid bow.

She laughed, happy to see him showing some levity. Before they left, she handed out some morsels of sweets. Link and Mullick hopped out and sprinted towards the front of the train, mouths full. Navi hesitated, studying Cella's wistful look.

"They're like your children, aren't they?"

She winked again. "Perceptive one. Jim and I have none of our own. I spoil any and all, I guess."

"Thank you. You've been so good to us."

Cella shrugged. "Even if he weren't who he is, I would treat him like a son. That intense young man is always going to attract help. Must be a gift, too."

"I believe so," Navi agreed, and flitted away.

"And so, when the First Dynasty passed power onto the the Second Generation, many new laws came with the transfer. One, that the horses of the Eminent Lon Clan have exclusive right to the Central Plains. Two, the Hackwater Well and Surrounding Assets of Iza and Henya were placed under heavy restriction. Three…"

The drawling, langorous vowels and slack consonants of Goriyo's accent were officially Link's least favorite noises. He spewed information from his staid tomes with little flair, and often, the boy found himself fighting back yawns and numbing boredom. He had no context for the names and places the Practicing gave him, but he memorized the lore nonetheless. Who knew, maybe the tax levy of 963 that protected the Royal Minto would be useful to him. Maybe.

"And so, can you tell me the importance of the mining expedition in 1100?"

Link's brow scrunched in annoyance before he could control it.

"Are you done with our lesson for today? We only have two days of travel left, and there is much I need to tell you still."

"My legs are cramped from sitting in the wagon. I'm used to riding and scouting," Link said with as little offense as possible.

"When we rode and talked, you had the unfortunate habit of riding away when you're done listening," the Younger said lightly. It was true, but Link was equal to his tone.

"And so, I can leave the wagon as well. May we pick up again tomorrow?"

"Some other appointment? The Sergeant isn't off duty until sunset, and your Lon family is attending their chattel. Are there more innocent creatures you need to hunt needlessly-"

"Stop it!" Link burst. Even with the laughter laced through Goriyo's logic, he knew the jabs for what they were. He fumed, face red, heart in a knot of rage and frustration. He held his tongue in irons.

"Fine. I'll leave you, Emissary. I apologize for upsetting you. Perhaps tomorrow we will tackle reading and writing glyphs. I know the children were helping you, but my knowledge-"

"Tomorrow." And with as much dignity and spite, Link jumped from the wagon, fingertips grabbing the ground for shock support, and strode in quick, ground-eating steps to the horse line. Epona whinnied at the sight of him, and he unhitched her from the leading mare, threw a leg over her and dug his heels into her ribs.

His berry-colored companion understood immediately and sprang away through the grass. Salty with sweat from midsummer, and tears, Link tore across the plains into the east, longing for the cool canopies of his childhood, the fragrant loam instead of manure, leaves for grass and roots for rocks. How. How could all this happen to him? Why?

"Why me? Huh? WHY ME?" he roared. Epona flattened her ears. "WHY?" He sang the refrain until his rasping voice squeaked, and his mount lost steam. "I haven't questioned...but now...How can I stand this...Everyone treats me like glass now! I just…"

A shadow overcame him, and Epona stopped, nostrils flaring and her breath suddenly became the loudest noise. Link opened his eyes. He was in a silent grove of trees. Sycamores hugged the meager water course, one of the few bottom woods and a rare oasis of abundance in Hyrule's fields. But the small animals and insects witheld their voices, and his own ragged breath and pounding heartbeat were coursing in his ears. His soul quivered, as something in the aura of this anomalous grove held a promise yet to be fulfilled, and some respectful spell pervaded everything from the grass to the tips of the palm-sized leaves.

And like a healing balm, the scent of loam and decay and sunlight filled his nose and lungs, and a symphony of chatter resounded in his deepest senses. He didn't know when he left Epona's back, or when he started to run into the stand of sycamores. He ran by the nose, purely animal, panting and gasping, swallowing the sweetest memories in his heart. He didn't notice when the landscape morphed, either, and he sobbed to see that he was again in the heart of the Old Forest, complete with deku babas, death and mote gnats filling the air in their lazy patterns. His feet fumbled, and he fell to his knees, grasping at the rich soil he once dug bare toes into, fingers shaking. He was shaking, not just his fingers. He wished above all else, that if he could just return to his forest, and leave Destiny behind.

"But my love, there is no running from Destiny. Only alternate paths…"

The Voice was like all voices in one, a trillion part harmony of all living beings from the smallest mites to the rumbling of the earth itself, and Link had never heard anything so familiar in his memory. In an instant, he knew this Presence had been with him since his birth, apart, but a part of his soul. He was forged from this Essence, molded by the Trials in his path, and the steel in him was tempered by the love emanating from Her.

"All your companions are there to help you in my stead. Your journey is only started, My Hunter. We cannot Meet yet, as this pale vessel is my only concession to the Terms."

A chord resonated in the depths of time, and a fleeting ancestral image twitched in Link's mind's eye. "We've met before."

"Of course." She was beautiful, more than any person he would ever know, and atop her dainty head were two messy piles of hair held in place by sticks and flowers, like the prodigal Kokiri, and topping that was a gorgeous set of velvety antlers. Farore did not need a gown, or modesty, but the moss and ferns and vines that exuded from her perfect form trailed behind her as a luxurious train, leaving her breasts exposed, certainly full of milk for any who needed suck. Her thighs and pute were also bare, and she dug her own toes into the soil, or perhaps the dirt rose up to meet her.

"Those lives are behind you now. But you now know that your spirit is an old one, and I have come to you in this way because one of My Sister's Agents has begun their Testing.

"I am not a spirit of Wisdom, and so, this will be a dream to you until you Meet with the other Agents and begin your own Trial."

She smiled and held out a hand. Link found himself unable to move.

"I will give a gift, however. I know that you seek comfort, but you must move forward. When your heart overflows, play the song Saria composed on the Long Night. She will hear you, and you, her."

"But you can't give me wings to escape Goriyo?" He hardly believed his own daring, but this Woman was part of him, and understood the depths of his soul better than he did. A joke was more than appropriate.

"Ah-ha! My Child, the best powers are learned, not given. Ability by grace is a poor substitute for the the deep, enriched capacity that comes from skill earned over time. Do not dismay, for your time with Goriyo will be short."

This truly seemed the best of it, and Link felt profoundly tired, and fought to keep his eyes open, or even stand! He swayed, and Farore's ghost moved toward him.

"Be easy, My dearest. I wish you'd lighten up sometimes, but then, you have always been such a serious Child…" She was there beside him, and he buried his face against her chest in a hug, tasting dirt and loam…

"Here he is! I found him! I knew he wouldn't be far from the horse…Aren't you all glad I followed him?"

"Give him air, give him space!" Commanded another, deeper voice. Head swimming and sounds rushing back, Link was staring up at sparse sycamore leaves lit by sunset and several faces. They looked alien, hairy and far too old and worn. What was he doing on the ground? He remembered to breathe, and at once, a sharp pain in his forehead split the fog of uncertainty. The low branch. His frenzied ride. He looked to Goriyo, wearing some concern for once. What if something more serious than a moment's inattention took him from the back of his horse? Was listening to this bearded droner worth throwing away his future? Link thought of Alta's funeral, and careless showmanship, still a stone in his lower belly. He could swallow his pride for what, two more days? His time with Goriyo would be short...Though, how he was so sure of that, Link couldn't quite fathom. Just a feeling in his gut, and a rare, comforting one.

"Talon, I'm sorry. Goriyo, I shouldn't have left our lesson," They helped Link to sit, the Patriarch supporting the Kokiri, puzzled.

"What got into ya, kid?"

"I just...Needed to ride away, I guess. And when I saw the trees, I wanted to see the forest again, just one more time, but...I didn't even see the branch in the path until it was too late," he explained, following the fragments of memory.

Talon rubbed his shoulder. "S'all right, now that we found ya, and know you're fine. Except for that bump, but a little red should clear that up in a night. Can you stand?"

It took a dizzying moment, but the blond made it up and felt strangely steady. He nodded, and surveyed his rescue party. Talon, of course, Jim and Arbido, the best of the riders, came first and a little ways back, was Ingo. He was sternly observing. Link silently nodded his thanks, and received a shrug in return. And Goriyo was there, too. He was the one to lead the others to the grove. He was also the one to incite Link's flight. But the man with the off center soul patch wore a very interested look, and the boy felt scrutinized. It was the same look from the parlor in Farmington, when that edge of disbelief tainted Link's telling of Kokiri lore. Well, this time, Link could be confident that his words were the absolute truth. Why would he lie about such a silly injury?

"Did Navi not want to come?" Link asked as he mounted behind Talon.

"Well, that's how we knew to come," Talon said uneasily. He clicked his tongue, and his stallion trotted back to the caravan. "She suddenly cried out, went dark, and told Malon to seek Goriyo."

Each day closed the distance between Caravan Flats and the travellers. The smudge of the mountains grew into a dark stain, and within that week, peaks and spires were distinguishable against the blue sky. Death Mountain itself was visible, it's black obsidian ridges devoid of vegetation and Hylian settlement a stark ode under the wide, blue sky. The fields melted into more steppe-like conditions, rockier soil replacing the comparatively soft sod, and more often, the wagoners were forced to stop to repair the robust wheels after an encounter with larger stones. The roads were maintained well, clear of rocks, but the massive collection of vehicles spread out on either side of the Northern Track to make room for pedestrians and horsemen.

On the dawn of the final day, the lead riders and Talon's wagon crested a hill, and were greeted by an awesome sight: a great, level expanse of land lay cupped in the base of the foothills of the mountains. The crescent of civilisation was vast, and contained, nearest to them, a flock of tents, wagons, wooden huts, pavillions and pallisades of wood and stone. This was Caravan Flats, the Market Town of Castle Hill. The sheer roar of humanity was a buzz Link could feel in his bones. Behind this array of every imaginable merchant stall rose a smooth stone wall, demarcating the border between traders and guildsmen, and the nobles. Zora's River ran in a massively wide aqueduct back behind the wall, piercing the town as it ran from the northeast to the southwest, following the gentle curve of the steep foothills. Boats and ferries were quayed all along the shores on either side, bobbing like tiny ducks in the current.

The rooftops visible over the wall were dwarfed by two structures: a huge stone house or temple at the eastern edge of Castle Town, and the gorgeous castle upon the hill. Link was no expert in architecture, but the spires of the towers and arches, even from this distance, were delicate, exotic to his organic tastes, and it was there his journey was taking him. His mouth dried immediately, and his liver pushed bile into his throat. He was the Emissary, and an Agent. He felt the urge to run, and the panic died. His bump was still red, and Link knew he had to face whatever awaited him.

"Navi."

She did not answer him. There was no need to. Her mind was there, and the enriched relationship warmed his heart even as it quivered in anticipation. "Remember, you've got so many willing to help you, even if we can't stand them, or their motives. This is a big step, and I'm right here, and so is Malon, and Mullick and Talon, and even Ingo! Who would have thought…"

Yes, Link agreed, still in awe of Castle Hill, the dramatic backdrop of Death Mountain, pale gray and volcanic black providing incredible relief for the snowy white of Hyrule's castle. It shone like a beacon.

"Dark clouds covered the land...It is He!..." The words of the blue-eyed woman who greeted him in Farmington with her cryptics popped into his mouth, and the mountain behind the castle loomed, like a storm imminent on the horizon, and they were powerless to stop it.

A/N: I'm not dead yet! And let me tell you, it is awful to be without internet or a reliable computer with which I could type. I've worked hard though, and I've got a lot of material ready to be uploaded, so I'm hoping these next few months will be productive. I love all of you still reading, and those of you joining us on your first read!