Chapter 1

"Link, wake up."

Groaning, Link opened a sliver of one eye, blurry from sleep. It was still too dark in the room, save for the faint light of the hallway coming in from underneath the doorway. His vision was masked by dust and dirt floating around the room, disturbed by recent footsteps. The small open window above the bed revealed that not even the moon was out at this time of night. Link turned his head away, his cheek rubbing against the itchy feather pillow. He grunted, begging to be left alone.

"Link," the voice said again.

He moved his arm to cover his eyes, in total defiance of the summons.

"Link," the voice was now firm and annoyed.

Link cleared his throat, daring for his voice to come. "What?"

"Today's the day."

He finally opened his eyes and rubbed them with his palms to clear some sleep away. "So?"

Shara stood beside his bed, clearly impatient. Her light brown hair was draped carelessly over her shoulders. She looked like she hadn't been up long, based on her drooping eyes and down-turned lips. She never was much of a morning person.

Then again, neither was Link. "It's not even light out," he added.

"A new day is a new day, Link. It doesn't matter what color it is outside," Shara said.

He forced an irritated sigh as he pushed himself to sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed. He shoved the one blanket into a corner, Later, he would fold it and put it away. "Fine."

"That's the spirit," she said as she helped him stand. "You're turning eighteen today. Might as well face it standing up."

"You are way too cheery right now," he mumbled under his breath.

"Hm?"

He shook his head. "Nothing." He ran a hand through his hair. The oils sticking to his hand told him that his hair desperately needed washing. He tried to remember how many days it had been, but then he felt disgusted as he realized it was at least two weeks. "I guess I need to wash up."

Shara gave him a smirk, which he was surprised she could muster at this early hour. "Yes."

Link rolled his eyes at her and pointed to his door. She got the hint and opened the door to leave. Light flooded into his room, and Link had to hold up his hands to block it from his eyes. Shara left the room and let the door close with a thud, returning the room to darkness.

He put his arms down and sighed. Years of preparation, and he was still not ready. Master Gehrik wouldn't give assignments to anyone under eighteen, but whether that was because he didn't trust the younger members, or he wanted to protect them, Link wasn't sure. Either way, Link was expected to face him today. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach as he thought about it, and he had to take deep breaths to calm himself. One step at a time, he told himself.

Link fished around his belongings and found his flint, then proceeded to strike a spark in the lamp beside his bed, livening the room with a dull orange glow. First, cleaning his hair was a matter of social urgency. He would start with that. He knew he shouldn't even approach Master Gehrik if he didn't look ready. Second, he had to find a set of clothes that he hadn't been wearing continuously for six days straight.

The third step was making sure he sharpened and polished his knife. He picked up the knife from its place beside his bed and observed its edges. Since he hadn't been on any assignments, he truly had no excuse to have such a poor looking blade. He gently traced his thumb along the knife, feeling each and every nick and scratch. The tip was blunt, and the steel was starting to get rust spots near the hilt. Link frowned in dismay at his own negligence. Pitiful.

Link set the blade back down and shuffled to the wash basin in the corner. The soap was dry and powdery — a sign of neglect that he understood too well, as he hated washing his hair.

He went through the motions of getting ready. Once he thoroughly cleaned his hair and put some cleaner clothes on, he put a dab of scent on his face. Shara would appreciate the refreshing smell, not to mention his now kempt hair and clothes.

He picked up the knife again, extinguished his lamp, and walked out of his room. The hallway was dimly lit by sconces every few meters. On a bright day, with the bright desert sunlight streaming through the windows, it was barely a simmer. On this early morning, with no other soul or source of light in sight, it was almost too much. The canvas drapes along the walls and the shabby doorways made the hallways look like a thieves' hideout. Four hundred years ago, when Master Droga first established the base, he didn't intend for it to look so rustic and lawless.

Not truly, anyway.

Link weaved his way around the hallways to the smithy, looking forward to spending quality time with his knife, which desperately needed some tender loving care. It was long overdue, and he was sure Barret would chide him for letting the knife get dull and rusty. It was, after all, his first and only knife. Even if he were to start using a different one, he was too attached to this one. It was the only heirloom he had from his mother.

The mother that he never knew.

"What are you doing here?" Barret asked when he saw Link. His gruff voice didn't match the thin face, but his height and his broad shoulders made up for it.

Link circled around the racks of weapons in the center of the room, only to stand a few feet away from a forge. He could barely breathe, and he had to shield his nose with his arm. In answer, he held out the knife towards the smith.

Barret sighed and wiped his sooty hands on his pants. He took the knife from Link's hand. "This old thing?"

Link nodded.

"You realize I've been up all night, right?"

A small cough escaped Link's mouth. He shrugged. Obviously, he knew that. Everyone here knew that. The forges needed to be babysat to stay hot, after all.

Barret eyed him warily for a few too many seconds before shrugging back. "Whatever. I'll have it prettied up within the hour."

Link gave him a small nod of thanks. He started to turn away, but stopped when Barret cleared his throat.

"You going on the assignment to Faron? Never been there myself, but I hear it's nice this time of year. 'Course, it's always nice where the bananas grow. I'd go live there if the job wasn't so profitable here."

Link turned and looked at the smith quizzically before pursing his lips and slowly shaking his head. What a strange man, he thought.

When Link didn't answer, Barret continued. "Shame you're not going. I'd have asked you to bring me back a yummy souvenir."

Still, Link had no answer. He wasn't even all that fond of bananas.

"You're right, I shouldn't pry," Barret added. As to which of Link's statements (more like gestures) he was responding to, Link had no clue. "Ah, well. Gotta fill orders, anyway." He held the knife by the hilt and waved it in Link's direction.

Link nodded again and finally allowed himself to leave the room. He liked Barret, but he had a feeling the man only wanted to fill the silence in a room. A social construct that Link didn't particularly employ or care for.

Butterflies again erupted in Link's stomach. The sun was only slightly below the horizon, enclosing the sky a faded pink hue spewing through the small windows in the halls. The dawn of the new day just made things worse. He would have to talk with Master Gehrik soon, and nervous was an understatement. Master Gehrik was not someone to be trifled with. He had little sense of humor and mirth. He was an admirable leader, or so Link had heard from the other members. He knew what he was doing, and though he didn't show his appreciation easily, he had a good heart.

Still, that good heart didn't make him any less difficult to talk with.

As he approached the Master's Hall, Link saw Shara skipping away down the hallway. For once, Link wished he had her optimism and drive. She knew what she wanted in life, and she was sociable and made friends easily. Or, well, what amount of friends she could make while at the base. Frankly, he was just glad that she paid special attention to him. She wouldn't realize it if her life depended on it, but she was a rock in his sand-filled life. The scorched mess of a life that he feared he was wasting.

His head sunk to his chest for a moment as he readied his will. It was now or later. With any luck, Master Gehrik wouldn't be in the Master's Hall. Link raised up his head, took a deep breath, and pushed open the curtain.

He was greeted by an empty plush chair at the back of the room. The lush red curtains draping the walls matched the chair, and wooden carvings decorations littered the surrounding shelves. There was a single chevron-patterned rug laid out on the hard dirt floor. The lone table in the middle of the room was covered in letters and maps.

Master Gehrik was nowhere to be found. Link ambled over to the documents on the table, curious at their contents. He didn't get very far when he heard a throat clearing at the entrance of the room.

Link spun on his heels and quickly bowed.

"You are up early," Master Gehrik said.

It wasn't a question, so an answer was not required. Link had to consciously not gaze around the room while the Master's attention was on him. Instead of replying, he blinked and gave a small nod.

"Shara's doing, I would guess." Master Gehrik fully entered the room and closed the curtain behind him. He paced around the table and rested one arm on his plush chair, a stone's toss away from Link. "What am I going to do with that girl?" he asked himself. It was not Link's place to intrude on the Master's outspoken introspection. Gehrik turned to face Link. "What are you doing in here?"

Link's hands clenched ever so slightly, and he took a deep breath. His voice was shakier coming out than when it played out in his head. "I am eighteen today, Master Gehrik."

Master Gehrik's square jaw and thick eyebrows shielded his true emotions. "And?"

"M-Master, I-"

"Stop stuttering, boy. It doesn't suit you," Master Gehrik interrupted. "If you want to work for me, you need poise and confidence."

Link tipped his chin up and made his face as stoic as he could muster. "Yes, Master."

Gehrik gave a small huff and dropped into his chair. He crossed one knee and leaned his head against his palm. "Now, tell me. What was it you were going to say?"

"I am ready for an assignment, Master," Link replied, his voice now firm.

"No," Gehrik replied instantly. "No, you are not ready."

It seemed to Link that the surrounding lamps died out, and the walls of the room shrunk so that only the two men remained. Everything else disappeared. It was almost suffocating. "Master?"

Gehrik stood and, within seconds, was face to face with Link. His red cloak billowed from behind him. "Do you question my authority? Do you dare feign insolence here?"

Link was easily a head shorter than Master Gehrik. Around other members, he would be self-conscious about his height, but Gehrik's demeanor gave Link a new drive. "No, Master. I am simply making you aware of my readiness to go out in the field."

Master Gehrik tsked. "Readiness comes from both time and experience. You have neither. You are not ready." Before Link could respond, Gehrik made his way to the table and looked down at the letters. "Faron would not do for your first assignment, anyway," he added quietly.

Link could only stare. This was a side that was rare to see from Master Gehrik. Master's eyes were downcast, and Link could sense a slight tremble in his hands as he lifted a letter from the top of the pile. Link let the silence spread across the room, and he watched as Gehrik meticulously placed the paper back down. It was a serene moment, and while it was awkward for a bit, Master Gehrik didn't seem to mind that Link was still there.

"That is all I have to say. You may go," Gehrik finally said, eyes never leaving the table.

Link simply nodded and left the room. He sighed as soon as he heard the curtain woosh closed behind him. The hallways of the base were still dim, and the sun was only just beginning its ascent above the hills. He found his way outside, out in the already warm spring morning. The red hills around the fort, normally bright and vibrant, were still just brown. Link wound his way around the slot canyons, feeling the rough dunes along the way. The rocks were still cold. Around him, crickets sang their songs, serenading the waning night. The sand sparrows were just beginning to chirp, getting ready to hunt for their next meal.

Thinking of meals reminded Link that he hadn't yet eaten. His stomach hadn't started grumbling, but he could tell that the moment was coming soon. He walked further away from the fort, following the direction he always did when he wanted hydromelons. There was a clandestine spot of a half dozen patches of melons, and every time he went, it was left undisturbed from the last time he was there. Link smiled at the thought of having those melons all to himself. He knew his day would get better once he had one.

After a minute of meandering, he arrived at his sacred space. His view opened up to a grotto enshrined by arches overhead and cool sand at his feet. Somewhere above him, a trickling stream meandered its way through the slots. The walls were covered in rushrooms and swift violets, making the space a scenic getaway. The best part — the part he was most looking forward to — was the array of perfect hydromelons all around the ground. Link hummed a short melody of relief when he saw the current yield. Yes, today would be a good day.

Link rummaged around the melon patches, searching for the best fruit to take home. After looking at a few, he finally decided on one that was slightly misshapen, yet was the perfect color. He pulled up on the melon and separated it from its root. It was so ready, it popped right off. Smiling, Link cradled the melon in his arms as he left the grotto. As he walked, he daydreamed of the moment he would set the melon down and cut into it. He could imagine the sweetness as he sunk his teeth into it.

He was brought out of his reverie when he stumbled on a bundle of warm safflina flowers. He almost dropped his melon, and he was afraid it would meet its end. His heart seemed to skip a beat, and multiple worries flooded his mind. One, he did not want to see this perfect fruit wasted if it dropped and cracked open on the sand. He could never live with himself if he didn't at least try to preserve the melon. Second, he didn't want to go back to get another one. It would almost seem like betraying the first melon, and he didn't dare have such a guilty conscience. He righted himself in time, however, and the melon was saved as he straightened and wrapped the fruit even tighter in his arms.

Whew.

He looked down at the safflinas, and though they were still just buds, he decided he would pick some and give them to Shara. She never was much for flowers, but he felt somewhat guilty for giving her attitude earlier. Surely something was better than nothing, so he gently set the melon down on the ground and picked a dozen of the flowers. He wrapped the stem of one flower over the others to tie them all together. It wasn't the best of knots, but he worried that if he pulled too hard, the stems would break.

Satisfied, Link picked up the melon and continued his way back to the fort. The slot canyons greeted him yet again, and Link hummed to himself. The sun was now high enough to drench the canyons and the sands in their usual deep red. The start of a new day, indeed.

About a half mile away from the fort, Link stopped humming. He heard another voice humming in the west, and Link put himself on high alert. This area wasn't meant for travelers.

He searched for the new sound, weaving his way around dunes and rocks. The sand in front of him moved gracefully with the breeze. The sound got louder and more reverberating as he rounded more bends. Finally, he halted when he saw Shara sitting on a boulder, running her gloved hands through some scrub brush. Her pink shirt billowed with the slight wind, almost in time with her voice. The humming stopped when she saw him and smiled.

"I didn't expect anyone to find me here."

Instead of answering, Link walked up to her and leaned against a canyon wall a few feet away, which provided shade to the slot.

"I guess I was pretty loud, wasn't I?" she added. Then she blushed. "I like to come here when I can't find you."

Link grunted in acknowledgement and set the melon down next to his feet. He held out the bundle of warm safflinas towards her.

Shara giggled as she took the gift. Her rough fingers brushed against his, causing Link to concentrate on his breathing to keep his heart rate down. "Thank you, Link. What brought you out here?"

Link stepped to the side so she could see, and pointed to the hydromelon behind him. "Breakfast."

Her face perked up at the sound of his voice. "Yum."

He nodded and went back over to his melon. He sat down on the sand, leaned against the wall, and cradled his melon yet again. He used his fingernails to scrape off some sand that had collected against the pale rind. Shara continued humming, even though he knew she was still watching him. Link knew the song, so he began humming a harmony.

They sat in each other's company, glad for a new day, yet wary of the future. They both knew that good things never lasted long, and they had to prepare for the worst. That was just the nature of their clan.

"How did it go with Master Gehrik?" Shara broke the humming to ask, and then returned to the melody.

"Uneventful," Link replied, his eyes going back to melon,

"No assignment?"

He shook his head.

"Are you not upset?" she asked, concern now in her voice.

Link shrugged. "I guess I just didn't know what to expect."

She rested her arms on her hips and huffed. He knew that stance. "Link, you're one of our best hunters. You could easily take on half of the clan. Master should be giving you assignments, especially now that you can take them on. It's an insult to your dignity that he's not letting you go anywhere."

"What am I supposed to do?" Link retorted. He held tighter to his melon. "He's the Master. I need to respect his decisions."

"You don't need to take that," she nearly yelled. She heaved herself off of the boulder, threatening to stomp away. "I'm going to go talk to him."

Link's eyes widened in alarm at the thought. "Shara, wait." He set down the melon and stood up to go after her.

Her heels spun against the sand with a rough scraping sound, and her hands returned to her hips.

He caught up to her and rested his hands on her shoulders. She was his same height, so he didn't have to look down at her. Not that he would do that in other senses, either. He respected her too much, both as an equal and a friend. He didn't have many friends his age, but she was easily his best. He hoped she would understand. "I don't even want to get an assignment."

She grasped his wrists and held them. Her pale blue eyes challenged his with no hint of restraint. "That's not true, and we both know it. I've seen you go out hunting. You love the outdoors, you're always wandering out on adventures, and every time you come back to the fort, you look like you wished you hadn't come back. I know you want to leave, Link."

Her admission paralyzed him. Was it true? Did he really feel that way? Sure, he didn't always feel like he belonged here, but that didn't mean he wanted to leave it behind, did he? A small choke escaped him as he stepped back, confused.

Shara's eyebrows fell. Her gaze left his face. "I'm sorry, Link. I was out of line."

Link let his arms drop to his side. Her hands still held his wrists, but less firmly now. "No, you weren't."

After a few silent moments, she let go and moved to sit on the boulder she was occupying before. The boulder was tall enough that she didn't change height as she sat. She rested one hand under her chin and fiddled with a nearby scrub brush with the other. "I just want you to be happy, Link," she said softly. "I don't know what you should do, or what that looks like for you, but I hope you get the chance to figure it out for yourself."

The light breeze brought the scent of sand and faint whistling of the wind. If Link were honest with himself, it was one of his favorite sounds — the sound of nature domineering civilization with its power. Man could build forts and towers, but wind could bring them all down within moments if necessary. One thing was for sure, Link would not want to meet anyone who personified the wind. Rushing, dangerous, unforgiving. Regardless, the sound was a symbol of solitude in his mind. In the moments he was by himself, the wind was frequently a companion, and not an unwelcome one. In the wind, Link could be one with nature.

But now, Link was glad he was not alone in this breeze. He made his way over to Shara and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She returned the action, letting her arms encircle his waist. Link rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. "I know."

His eyes blinked open, and he realized just how intimate their embrace was. His gaze met hers, and he gently pulled away, but not before placing a light peck on her forehead. His cheeks got warm, and he could see her blushing as well. "Thank you, Shara," he continued. "That means a lot to me."

Shara tucked some loose hair behind her ears. "So, what do you want the most?"

Link stepped back. His angle was such that he could see his hydromelon in the corner of his eye. "Truly?" He put one hand on his hip and the other open against his chin. What did he want?

Shara nodded.

"You mean besides my melon?" Link asked as he grinned.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Yes, besides the melon."

"That's really quite a loaded question," he answered. "Barret is very fond of bananas. Maybe I'll follow his dream instead of mine."

A burst of laughter erupted from Shara. "You're unbelievable." She paused in thought, then uttered a single word that made Link gawk. "Rushrooms?"

He cried out in disgust, which surprised both of them. "Never again. Blech," Link said as he remembered the time two years ago when Shara made him eat rushrooms after he lost a bet. He hated those grotesque, bitter, unforgiving monstrosities. They were not only gross to the taste, but they had a nauseatingly chewy and stringy texture. Additionally, they had a horrendous aftertaste that made him want to run away from the source as quickly as possible. The mere thought of them made him nearly keel over.

"Fine, it doesn't have to be rushrooms," she said as she playfully touched his arm. "I just wanted to see what you would do if I brought it up. But really, though. Back to the original question."

Link gave a closed-lipped grin. But then that grin turned down as he got truly contemplative. There was an issue he had on his mind recently, but he hadn't known how to voice it. "I want to learn more about my parents."

Her face fell, but she had a glint in her eye. "I never knew about them, so I don't know if I can help you with that. I'd recommend thinking up something else. Something we could do together, side-by-side."

"Now who's the unbelievable one?" he asked, bending down to hide his face from her gaze and to pick up his melon yet again. If nothing else, that melon sure had its fair share of ups and downs.

"Maybe Master Gehrik will know." The lilt in her voice made her sound hopeful.

Melon in hand, he looked back at her. The hair she had tucked behind her ears had escaped again with the help of the breeze. "Maybe." His voice, as a contrast to hers, definitely did not have that same hopeful ring.

She hopped off the boulder, bundle of safflinas in hand, and started walking along the cool sand towards home. "Well, I'm going back. Lina needed me to help her out with her patchwork."

Link nearly scoffed. "Lina is twice your age; I'm sure she knows how to do patchwork."

"Silly," Shara chided as she smiled. "It's not just the patchwork. We also have a lot of fun gossiping and eating cakes."

He shook his head. "Girls."

This time, Shara shook her head. "I'll see you at practice tomorrow?"

Of course she would. He attended all of his combat practices, and he even had a session in a couple of hours. He nodded, and together, they walked back to the fort. The breeze blew behind them, the sun was now in its greeting phase, and Link had a perfect melon in his hands and a perfect friend beside him. So far, despite the setback with Master Gehrik, today was a good day.