Princess Zelda was becoming an increasingly violent sleeper; at first she had just twitched and mumbled, but now she thrashed and twisted her way through the nights, mumbling in the many languages she had learned, so that sometimes Impa had to lay beside her and hold onto her tightly so that she did not hurt herself. Waking her was getting harder too. Whatever was going on in her head when she closed her eyes, it had sunk its claws in and was reluctant to let go. Awake, she never spoke about it and Impa did not push or question, knowing that the Princess would not have complained no matter how large or tiny the problem, but Raegis, the exiled Sheikah she had allowed to join them, was new to the relationship and had not yet learned when to shut up. Impa was seriously considering teaching him.

"What does she dream about?" He asked, watching the child. Tonight was not a particularly bad night; they had found a cave out of the ebbing rain, secluded enough to get a fire going, and an unfortunate rabbit had stumbled onto their path, providing a rare meal of fresh meat. Zelda lay with her head on Impa's lap, and Impa sat with one hand stroking her hair and the other very close to some of her many weapons.

"Who knows what goes on in her mind?" As answers went, it was more of a brick wall. Raegis seemed to accept it, then spoke again.

"The plan won't work if she's half-dead from exhaustion," he speculated. He was still knowing on his portion of rabbit, though the bone was bare. He seemed reluctant to let go of it. He hadn't been carrying any food when he found them.

"You'd be amazed at what she can do half-dead from exhaustion," Impa said shortly. Zelda's hand gave a violent spasm. Raegis raised an eyebrow.

"She seems sick."

"She's not." The flatness of her tone finally got through, though even Impa, with her unshakable faith and loyalty, had to admit that Zelda was getting worse. Always well-fed and rarely made to exhaust herself, she had had no preparation whatsoever for this kind of life. Impa had been born to it, and trained since she was old enough to walk, and even she found many of these cold, hungry nights difficult. She idly stroked the princess's hair, which was still stained dark as an attempt to disguise her. Worry threatened to overtake her again, so to distract herself she did the only thing she could think of without dislodging the child: she carried on talking. "What's happening in Hyrule?"

"A lot, and not much of it good," Raegis replied solemnly. The Sheikah and the princess had been on the run for months, but Raegis had been at his camp, and travellers and refugees passed nearby daily. Many of them were inclined to share the news, though many would instead hurry by with their heads bowed; Termina would have a lot of hungry mouths this winter, but at least it brought the news. The news was that the king had brought his death upon himself.

Ganon had united the desert tribes. That was how he had managed to sneak an army into the kingdom. The desert nation was not really a nation at all, but a vast expanse of land under constant dispute, and always at war with itself. The Gerudo were the largest and nearest of the tribes, so the King had recognised them, but he had not spared much thought for the others covering that baking wasteland. After all, on average there were barely a few dozen to a tribe.

But there were hundreds of tribes.

One by one, they had united with the Gerudo, promising men, weapons, supplies, anything and everything the desert king needed to invade Hyrule. Many of them were even Gerudo blood; the tribe itself was almost totally female because whenever a son was born to them, unless they needed a king the boy would be sent back to his father's tribe. It meant that those who answered the call were often answering to their own mothers, aunts, sisters. They had gone into the kingdom, into the city, and nobody had thought it odd that there should be so many there, because they were only tribesmen, and nobody saw them as one united force. There was only one 'man' of the Gerudo tribe at any one time. Over years of careful planning, they had wormed their way into every nook and crevice of the land, unchallenged and unmonitored because the king, Zelda's father, had always been determined that Hyrule should be a shelter for any who wanted it. They had not all come together even for an instant, until the night of the massacre, by which point they were everywhere they needed to be, including the forces all along the borders ready and waiting in case anyone of importance managed to run that far.

In fact, the conquering had been relatively bloodless. Hyrule went to bed safe under the rule of the Line of Harkinian. When they awoke, their king was dead, the man of the desert was on the throne, and everywhere the foreigners they had grown so used to suddenly marched the streets in the armour of the Gerudo. There was no time for anyone to protest. A few dozen soldiers had been killed in the night, and all those nobles who did not bend the knee were nowhere to be found, dead, escaped or imprisoned, but for the first day or so little else had seemed different. Zelda's father had been given a burial worthy of a king.

Ganon's story was that the king had died in the night (nobody agreed on how), and as the fiancée of the Crown Princess he had seen fit to secure the throne for himself and his young princess before anyone else attempted to usurp it – here Raegis spat into the dying fire – and that those others killed had attempted to raise a coup and fight.

"He's having it said that she's still with him," the exile said, watching Zelda. "That she's safe in the castle not taking visitors. There's a rumour that she's very ill, and that's why nobody's seen her. Most of the smart ones think either she's dead or locked in a dungeon somewhere. No one's even speculating that she got out."

"But he must be trying to find her."

"Oh, yes. With great desperation, from what I hear."

And then came the rest. Things had seemed safe for the first day or so, but then came the searching. Those few Gerudo who had spoken as they tore homes apart and cut through walls and into cellars and attics claimed that there was a plot to murder the Princess, and they were looking for the culprits. The rulers of the neighbouring nations had seen fit not to fight, but to re-forge their alliances instead with this man who, if looked at in a particularly dim light, might seem like a good king. Impa's stomach churned. Ganon had every ingredient he needed to make a legitimate claim to the throne, and even to have the people thank him for it. All he needed was the girl.

The longer he went without her, the more fearsome his wrath. His general imposed a curfew, forbade travel, and great nocturnal beasts like nothing Impa had ever heard of had been released to prowl the night and dig talon and fang into anyone who dared wander without permission. The grain supplies were being rationed. Nobody had heard from Zora's Domain for weeks. All of the King's Guard were out searching for these 'conspirators', leaving none of the patrols Zelda's father had always sent to keep the monsters of the lakes, mountains and forests at bay, and so they were creeping back in along the edges of the lands. He had melted down the ancient crown, and re-forged it into something of his own. People were disappearing – people, Impa realised from what names Raegis could recall, who could have been allies in their escape, anyone who might have had the power or the resources to help them – and from the sound of it, the dungeons were filling. Troop after troop came in from the desert, and one by one they were all dispersed in the secret hunt for the little girl and her Sheikah guardian.

A sickly satisfied smile twisted Impa's lips as she thought about just how much trouble they had caused Ganon, but was quickly chased away by the realisation of how alone they were against such a powerful force. Taking Raegis with them was almost laughable – it had turned them from two against thousands to a mighty three against thousands, and one of those she would not have trusted with a penny cake.

Her face must have changed. He was frowning back at her. "I'm no murderer, you know." He sounded almost hurt.

"Then what was your crime?"

Finally tossing the rabbit bone into the fire, Raegis flung himself back onto his cloak and folded his arms behind his head to sleep. "One advantage of being exiled," he said as he turned away, "is that I don't have to take orders from you."

Impa considered shaking respect back into him – he must have been young when he was sent away, to lose it so completely – but Zelda at that moment gave a particularly violent spasm.

She ran again through the forest of her nightmares, her pursuers ever right behind her, ever just out of sight and reach, but this time it was different. There was a light through the trees, a dim golden glow like twilight through the blackest forest. She sprinted and struggled, but however hard she tried there was no change to what was around her. The glow grew no closer, and the heavy footfall of the terrors behind grew no further away. She thought perhaps she could hear, underneath all that noise and the hammering of her own heart, the sound of distant unfamiliar voices calling her name, and the clang of steel.

A root caught her foot and she stumbled, rolling hard onto the ground, and felt her fingertips against something hard and cold, distinctly manmade in this dark forsaken place. Her hand closed around the hilt of a sword, a dagger or a knife – too dark even to know that – and she set off running again, the creatures chasing her closer now. She could almost feel the rush of air as they snapped at her heels, but there was something else moving just beyond the unreachable treeline, something human-shaped.

Something sank its teeth into her ankle and she fell again, hard, the weapon spinning from her grip, and she kicked and kicked at the thing to no avail. They had surrounded her. She tried to grab at the blade but it was too far away, and there were snarls and howls all around her, drowning out her own screams.

A hand grabbed her by the hair and yanked her to her feet, another in a choking grip around her neck, the points of the beast's talons breaking into her skin. Shining eyes glared inches from her face, reflecting some light that touched nothing else in the forest, and it opened a mouth lined with fangs and roared, in a voice that was a horrifying mix of man and monster, "WHERE ARE YOU?"

And just as the last of her breath drained away and every sense faded to hard, cruel reality, she thought she heard another voice, young and familiar, sounding puzzled, ask the twilight, "Zelda?"