A/N: Finally got the whole first part rewritten! Enjoyyy

II

Saria leaned over the small blossom with an inquisitive expression, releasing a slight "hmm" as the Kokiri villagers around her practically trembled in anticipation of her diagnosis. The blossom was peeking out of a swaddle of green leaves, its tiny pink petals reaching out for the sunlight. It vaguely resembled a Deku flower, one of the cunning hiding places of Deku tribe. But it had grown—seemingly overnight—in one of the meadows of the Kokiri Forest, a mysterious maze-like ground known to the forest people as the Lost Woods.

What puzzled the Kokiri girl the most was that the Lost Woods (and most of Kokiri Forest in general) was known for its extremely curious and perplexing trait: it was timeless. Once anyone stepped foot into the underbrush of the Kokiri's domain, his body clock ceased and all of time remained trapped in a halted state. It was incredibly bewildering to even the most renowned of Hylian scholars, but nothing could be said for the forest's timeless existence. It just simply was how things were.

So here lay the question that was puzzling Saria so greatly: what was this blossom doing here? She had only ever seen blossoms in books and had learned through her "years" of being Kokiri soothsayer that the Father Tree once bore beautiful blossoms during the spring. But once the seasons stopped and time seemed to slow down, blossoms never occurred anymore since the flowers never died.

"It appears to be a young flower," Saria said, placing her hands on her hips.

A wave of anxious whispers flowed through the crowd surrounding her. They didn't know the things Saria knew, however. For starters, many of the Kokiri had no idea their existence was "timeless;" it was a burden for the village leader and soothsayer to carry this knowledge. Most of the villagers lived in blissful ignorance of their situation. They didn't know the deeper truth behind Saria's concern.

"Now I don't want anyone to panic," Saria said, turning to face the crowd of disconcerted people. Her short bob of green hair glinted in the dappled sunlight, the teal headband of a soothsayer marking her role of wisdom. "Listen to me. This blossom means nothing. I'd like you all to return to your daily business and to not worry." She finished her speech with a warm smile, clasping her hands together. The Kokiri muttered their satisfied acceptance and dispersed, returning to the village center.

From the disappearing crowd, the Kokiri leader, Mido, stepped forward and approached Saria with a solemn expression on his face. "Walk with me?" he asked quietly.

Saria looked up at him gravely as they turned from the blossom toward the wall of trees that surrounded the village. They stepped through the underbrush, arms linked together. "We mustn't look into it," said the girl distractedly.

"Does it have anything to do with your visions?" said Mido. He was of course referring to the restless nights Saria spent dreaming about the Father Tree, the eternal, spiritual being that fathered and protected the Kokiri, cracking and withering into dust and ash beneath a wall of fire.

"Nothing is dying here," Saria said, looking ahead as they walked, "merely growing."

"But growth is accompanied by death," Mido said, jaw set.

"A blossom in the woods has nothing to do with fire," said Saria. "Perhaps we should be looking at it as a good omen against death."

Mido did not seem convinced. He used his free hand to adjust the green cap atop his yellow-haired head. Suddenly he said, "Do you think any of them know?"

Saria didn't need clarification. The day she became soothsayer she'd been betrothed to the village leader. She hadn't realized at the time that their shared burden of knowledge would be what brought them so close together.

"I don't think so," she said. "It's not their duty to know." She looked at her husband, green eyes wrought with worry. "We can't tell them, Mido."

"I know," he said. "But if the forest does start dying…" He took a deep breath upon saying those words. "They'll be so…lost."

Saria gazed at the trees that towered above them. They weren't particularly tall trees; the Kokiri had the strange trait of being about a child's height to an average person. Not only that, but they even looked like children, with soft round features and large eyes. Most of them acted like children too, Saria thought. They didn't have any reference though, so the Kokiri villagers had no idea they looked like children. Saria and Mido knew.

"We should wait," said Saria, words partitioned carefully, "for the Forest Father to send a sign. When it is time for the Kokiri to leave, we will know."

Mido wasn't satisfied, but he stopped walking and turned to Saria with a calm expression. "I'll trust you," he said. "But we need to be hyperaware of every miniscule change in the forest. Take note of everything."

Saria nodded. She looked up to see the large, overgrown building they'd stopped in front of, a temple that used to serve as a holy place for their ancestors. Saria had read once that the people beyond the forest held the Kokiri ancestors in very high regard. All she knew about them was that they were gone, and this temple was their monument to the Kokiri.

"Have you ever been inside?" she asked suddenly.

Mido looked up to follow her gaze. The entrance was high above the ground and virtually unreachable; it looked as if there used to be stairs leading up to it, but they'd been destroyed by some unknown force long ago.

"No," he said. "Have you?"

Saria shook her head. "I don't think anyone's been inside for ages."

Mido laughed. "That means nothing within the forest's boundaries."

"I know," she said, still looking at the temple entrance. It looked like a gaping mouth, with nothing but darkness within. "But maybe if we knew, we'd have more answers."

"Maybe." Mido turned to head back to the village. "They'll be wondering where we are."

Saria took another moment to watch the temple, almost certain something was watching her back. She finally turned to follow him back through the trees.

Time passed outside the forest, and the flower didn't seem to grow. Nothing else grew, and nothing else died. Saria continued to keep her terrifying dream from the rest of the Kokiri, and Mido continued to respect her judgment. General ease flowed over the childlike people, and Saria thought that maybe just once her vision wouldn't come true.

She was sitting at the base of a tree, sketching the strange blossom in a tiny makeshift notebook, when she saw the woodland fairy fluttering toward her like a dandelion wisp of light. It emitted such an intense light from a shining necklace that only its wings were visible outside the sphere of bluish-white. Saria knew the woodland fairy well; Tera. She had been her messenger to the Father Tree since she could remember. But she usually only came to Saria at the Kokiri's request. Eventually the ball of light stopped moving, bobbing up and down in the air right in front of Saria.

"Saria," the fairy said with a small voice that echoed like little chimes. "Father Tree has a message."

Saria stared long at the ball of light in front of her, green eyebrows furrowed slightly. Never before had the Forest Father come to her with a message. Their exchanges were usually quite one-sided, with Tera acting as a representative. And even then it was loose guidance based on what the woodland fairy believed the Father Tree would say. The Kokiri had just been starting to wonder if the Tree were even a sentient being, as she'd been led to believe.

"What is it?" Saria said.

"There are some things you need to know." The fairy's little wings beat the air idly. "You should come with me."

"Where?" Saria said, closing her notebook in her lap. "Father Tree?"

"Yes," Tera said.

Saria stood, green eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "What's wrong? What's happening?"

"Things will become clearer once we make it to the Sacred Grove," Tera said. "I'd love to tell you things are okay, but I'm not so sure myself."

Saria didn't like this. She followed the fairy quietly, eyes on the little bobbing sphere the whole distance. It wasn't too far to the Sacred Grove, a small meadow where the Forest Father sat upon his ancient roots. Saria had been there many times as the Kokiri soothsayer, but few were ever allowed to enter. Tera was the only woodland fairy she'd ever seen, but she often heard the whispers and giggles of others within the Forest Father's numerous branches. Now, she feared what she might find in the Grove.

Past the dense underbrush of the thickly wooded forest, they came across the entrance to the Sacred Grove. It almost appeared unnatural, with thin tree branches arching over the opening, lichen draping from their gnarled twigs. Tera slipped silently between strands, leaving a trail of blue dust behind. Saria brushed them aside lightly to see the Father Tree standing tall before her. Its thick, twisting branches reached out over the entirety of the grove, connecting almost seamlessly with the trees surrounding it. With the Kokiri's small height, the immense tree looked like some kind of mountainous god, and even with the many times she'd witnessed its magnificence behind her, she still felt the inexorable need to fall to her knees, hands pressed against the damp soil. She bowed her head respectfully, closing her eyes.

Saria opened them again when she felt Tera's blue light shining above her head. She looked up at the fairy, who was bobbing lightly in her direction. Eventually the fairy turned, facing the Forest Father. After a long moment, she spoke.

"It is time for the fairies of the wood to aid the Kokiri," she said.

"What do you mean?" Saria said, still not standing.

"Something's happening, Saria," said Tera, turning to face her Kokiri companion. Saria could have sworn she heard uncertainty, maybe fear, in the soft, tinkling voice. "You feel it too, because you're the Kokiri soothsayer. The Forest Father wants to help you."

Saria looked at the giant tree in the middle of the grove. The light around seemed warm and yellow, but she felt a chill from the cool earth against her palms. "How?" she said.

"There are more fairies like me," Tera said. "And Father Tree wants us to join with the Kokiri. Become partners, so that the Forest Children have constant guidance."

Constant guidance. Saria grit her teeth as she watched the woodland fairy. "Okay," she said. "Then send them."

Tera seemed to jump in the air as she turned to face the Forest Father once again. After another moment, she turned back. "There is still much you don't know," she said, not unkindly. "It could unearth doubts you've not yet voiced."

Saria glanced up at the Tree. She felt like it was watching her somehow. If this was a test of faith, then so be it.

"Send them," she said resolutely.

The light that seemed to envelope the small Kokiri forced her to shield her eyes, shutting them tightly against the glare. She felt no warmth, but was terrified for a brief moment that her eyelids would burn away, forcing her to look upon the light. It was as if every leaf from the colossal tree had glowed white, turning into purity itself.

That was the thought in Saria's head as she fluttered her eyes open, finding herself on her back in her house. She sat up in the wooden pod that served as a bed, looking around curiously. Had it all been a dream?

But as Saria swung her legs over the bed, rubbing her face in weariness, she heard a soft jingling coming from outside. Looking up, she saw a soft light filtering in through the window, until Tera gently floated inside. Saria was not accustomed to seeing the woodland fairy so much in any context other than the Sacred Grove.

"You're awake," Tera said.

Saria glanced out the window, where the light was still painting the forested village in green, blue, and yellow, but most of all white.

"The fairies are here," she said quietly.

"You should come meet them," Tera chimed. She bubbled up and down excitedly as Saria stood up and stepped silently over to the window. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but when they did, what she saw widened them.

All around the village, Kokiri were chattering and laughing happily, each paired with a tiny woodland fairy. They all shined differently, Saria noted, some with pink hues, some gold. But all of them had a white core and a fluttering pair of dragonfly wings keeping them aloft.

It was beautiful, Saria thought.

"Saria!" She looked down to see Mido standing at the base of the ladder leading up to their house. His blond hair shimmered under the light of a fairy floating above his head. "Come down!"

Saria smiled. For the first time in a while her heart felt light. She climbed down the ladder and rather abruptly pulled Mido into an embrace. They both laughed when they pulled away, smiling at each other.

"Did you know about this?" Mido said.

"Yes… how did I get back to my bed?" Saria laughed.

"Must have been a dream," said Mido. He glanced up at the fairy above his head. "This is Sion." The fairy chimed a greeting. Its glow was green.

Saria nodded at the fairy that followed her down the ladder. "This is Tera."

Mido smiled. Saria had told him plenty of her Father Tree messenger. "What is the purpose of this?" he said.

Saria's smile wavered. She looked away from him. "The Forest Father sent them as personal guides. For… troubles to come."

Mido watched her as his smile faded. After a moment he cleared his throat. "Well for the time being it is a joyous event," he said. "There's no need to worry our people."

Saria nodded, smile returning. She watched Mido dash into the center of the small village, holding his hands above his head. The Kokiri quieted, directing their new companions' attentions toward the leader.

"My good people," Mido said, voice raised as he spoke, "the Forest Father has sent us another gift!"

The people around him cheered in delight. Saria smiled at Tera.

"Let us honor the Great Tree's generosity with a feast!" More cheers. The whole town seemed to get into a routine mode of preparation, scurrying from their places to perform their previously-determined duties for the feast.

As Saria watched, she felt the lightness inside her deflate. She didn't feel right, hiding so much from the people that trusted her, but she knew it was for the best. Their ignorance was, after all, the reason for their cheerful chattering.

Mido walked up to her, slightly out of breath from the excitement, a grin still plastered on his childlike face. He curled his arms around Saria's waist.

"It will be all right, Saria," he said and kissed her forehead. "You mustn't worry."

Saria closed her eyes, letting Mido's arms embrace her. "I hope you're right, my love," she said, then looked up to kiss him softly.