Russ sat on the front of the cart next to his grandpa, bored out of his mind. The cart was going just fast enough that he couldn't run next to it for very long. Grandpa had tried to keep him busy with stories, but Russ' brain was too on fire.
Russ wasn't much of a talker. He was more of a thinker. He grabbed a tall stalk of grass that was moving by the cart and waved it around.
"What-cha thinkin' about, Russ?" Grandpa Talon asked. He was a large, round-bellied man, balding on top but with a masterful mustache and powerful, hairy arms. Russ aspired to be like him when he grew up. Once Russ had even shaved the top of his head to be like grandpa. Momma "had a cow."
"Oh, nothing," replied Russ, snickering.
"You gotta be thinkin' about somethin'."
"No . . ." Russ slumped even further in his seat, chin resting on his chest, dragging the grass stalk on the ground.
Grandpa lowered his ever bushy eyebrows. Raising a daughter all by himself had made him very good at intuitively knowing what was wrong. "You miss Saria, don'tcha?"
Oh yeah! Russ sat up straight. That's what he felt bad about! "Why can't we help Papa and Mama find her!? She's prolly just hidin' somewhere! She always does that." He waved the stalk of grass like a maestro. But then why do I feel so worried? Somethin' bad's goin' on.
"Somethin' bad's goin' on I think," replied Grandpa.
"Righ'! I was jus' thinkin' that, Grandpa!" He lightly punched Grandpa lightly on the bicep (which was as high as he could reach), then folded his arms satisfactorily. "You and I think a-like, we're like-thinkin' men, Grandpa!"
Grandpa smiled behind his 'stache. He waited to see if Russ had more to say, then asked, "What'choo think's gonna happen?"
"I dunno," Russ replied thoughtfully. "Grandpa! We gotta defend the ranch! We gotta build, like, catapults and . . . and stuff!"
"Sounds like a good plan, son." Grandpa remembered when Ganondorf had taken over the ranch.
Well, he sure as heck wasn't gonna let THAT happen again.
"Hey, Melody!" Grandpa called back into the cart. "What'cha doin'?" He hadn't heard her all day, singing OR complaining—which didn't bother him in the least, mind you. Grandpa was an expert when it came to listening. He could listen for hours . . . as long as he didn't fall asleep.
Nobody answered, so he looked back. Tatl and Tael were curled up in their grandmama's quilt, an old thing Talon had kept in use for decades, first with Malon, and now his grandkids. He smiled, knowing she'd like that. Then he frowned, eyebrows raising. He reached back and lifted the quilt a moment.
No Melody hiding there.
He leaned right and left to see past the milk boxes.
No Melody hiding there, either. There was just no sign of her red little hidey head. He realized after talking to Russ that, well . . . his sister was as hot-headed as their mother and probably wanted to help find Saria, and had that adventuring streak Link had that probably made her take matters into her own hands and made her fearless of the world.
She'd abandoned the cart.
"Oh, rats," he said, turning the cart around.
"Where're we goin'?" Russ asked.
"To find your . . . to find your OTHER sister."
Russ glanced back and inspected the cart. Then he turned back around. "Rats."