YAY I UPDATED IN A REASONABLE SPAN OF TIME I THINK MY GROOVE IS FINALLY BACK! Now, nobody touch it or else you'll throw off the emperor's groove! NO TOUCHY!

But anyway, not a lot to say here either, except that the first part of this chapter may be a bit boring. Link needs a rest gosh darn it! Also, I don' have time for a lot of proofreading right now so sorry in advance for any mistakes!

Chapter 23

Bitter Wind.

Never before in his life had experienced such cold. Hyrule had cold winters, but never to this degree. It had come from nowhere, blanketing the land around him in several inches of freezing powder. His shuddering breath clouded in front of his face like a thick mist clinging to his warmth. He hugged himself, hands quickly going numb without anything to cover them. His clothes were not at all well suited for cold weather. A thin cotton shirt and travel-worn trousers were not exactly winter-wear.

Link had never liked winter.

"Gods," he cursed, putting his head down and trudging onward, not even sure of where he was going. "Why is it so damn cold?!"

It wasn't even winter! It was the middle of freaking summer!

The snow was coming down so hard that the only thing he could see was a thick, ominous curtain of white, of dazzling snowflakes swirling in front of his eyes, blocking his vision and blurring his path. Each step became harder and harder as the snow grew thicker. He let loose a panicked yelp when the ground suddenly gave out beneath him, and he was sent tumbling down a hill he had been unable to see. Snow was thrown in every direction as he rolled, careening blindly down the hillside, shouting a sting of loud, colorful curses.

In a sea of white, he had no idea where he was when he stopped. It seemed as though during his heart-pounding roll, the storm had thickened, bringing another, harsher wave of intense cold, making his eyes water, the strong wind whipping against his face. But as he fought to regain his footing, the bitter scent of cold was not the only that met his nose. He could smell smoke.

Someone had a fire.

And he wasn't about to pass up on the opportunity.

He followed his nose, his sight unable to help him, and trudged onward. Faintly in the distance, he could see a glow from beyond the curtain of billowing white. He quickened his pace, and audibly sighed when he left the storm behind him, and entered a small cave, feeling the warmth of a fire on his frozen skin. However, he was not allowed much time to relish in his respite. Several dozen harsh, accusing glares fell upon him from further into the cavern. Men, women, children, all staring at him from under bundles of blankets, shawls and overcoats, the men rising from their seats, holding their weapons with white knuckles and frozen fingers.

Several smaller children, younger than Kara or Rinku, broke into frightened sobs upon his arrival, clinging to their mothers' chests burrowing deeper into the folds of warm coverings. The mothers' shushed them quickly and effectively with soothing words and soft touches. It was something that never ceased to amaze him, a mothers ability to sooth her child. Yes, of course he had since learned how to calm a frightened, hurting, or otherwise cranky child, but his skill paled in comparison to Malon's.

She scarcely had to utter a word.

A single woman near the back of the carvern drew his particular attention. She was somewhere in her mid-thirties, with a two year old hugging tightly to her chest. Her stare was that of defiance, and she cradled the child as, with some struggle, she rose from the ground, her cocoon of blankets falling around her ankles, revealing the filled-out abdomen of late term pregnancy.

"Sir," she spoke loudly, so that her voice carried over the din of murmurs. One of the men, he assumed her husband, turned back to her as she continued. "Who are you?"

"What does his name matter? He's obviously one of hers. Just look at his neck." The man responded. Down turned her head in a dangerous gesture that quickly silenced him, asserting her dominance over him. He recalled his guess, that wasn't a gesture used between partners. That was a gesture between leader and subordinate.

"Don't judge a book by its cover," she returned her gaze to him, a curious look in her pastel-blue eyes. "Let him speak."

Silence followed, as all eyes were on him, and he wasn't sure whether to engage and take his chances or to off and run. But in the back of his mind, he knew he couldn't survive in the blizzard. He had to try and make his case with those who had been forced from the mountain village.

"My name is Link. Please, I'm not one to beg, but if you would just allow me to warm myself before I leave, or at least spare one of your cloaks-"

"Shut your mouth, outsider!" the same man from before snapped. His eyes were full of hate. "I'm not about to help one of that witch's lackeys! I hope you freeze out there!"

"Silas!" the woman snapped, startling the child in her arms. But she didn't back down. "You have no right to choose who comes and goes! Have you forgotten who is in charge here? Shall I remind you?"

His body immediately responded, even if his mind was unwilling, as if muscle memory had overridden. He backed away, shoulders slumping forward, head tipping downward. She smiled in satisfaction before giving him a beckoning gesture. The man slunk off dejectedly toward the other end of the group, past him, giving him a fierce glare of disapproval as he passed, asserting his distrust and making it plainly clear that he did not like him in the least.

"Come, you're welcome to warm yourself beside the fire." She said calmly, heading back to where she had been seated previously and struggling to sit down without the use of her hands. He himself had been about to sit when he noticed.

"I can take him, if that would help."

She looked at him for a moment, seemingly mulling over his offer, weighing her options, looking him over, judging his character. The child squeaked in discomfort and fear as he was pried from the warmth of his mother's chest and handed to a man he'd never seen before. A cry shattered the nervous silence as Link took the child into his hands, bringing him to rest gently against him. He smiled at the boy, a genuine smile, one that he hoped would calm his worries.

"Hi there," he whispered, never letting the discomfort of his frozen bones seep into his tone. His smile only broadened when he received a smaller one in return from the boy. "That's right, nothing to worry about."

While he waited for the woman to sit, a struggle for her in her current condition, he gently rocked his weight on the balls of his feet, a simply swaying motion that he had used countless times on Kara and Rinku. The boy was quiet when he handed him back to his mother, a surprised look on her face. It was then that he promptly sat for himself beside the fire, his tired muscles relaxing, making him sigh as tension slowly left his body, as the fire eased his aches. The cold was murder on his joints, especially his left shoulder, which had never really healed from the wound six years previously, inflicted by his own shadow. Getting old sucked.

"So Link, do you have children? I've never seen Liam take to someone so quickly!"

He nodded, holding his hands out toward the yellow and orange flames.

"Two. Both a little older than him."

Her attention returned to her son, feeling him cuddle as far as he could against her. Silence followed, no one seeing a need for words. This allowed him to further survey the group that had allowed him in. When he looked closer, it came to his attention that there were actually two distinct groups. One that the mother obviously belonged to, all wearing similar clothes, similar in likeness, in hair color, in character, obviously a people that had lived remotely, all but untouched by the outside world. But the other was a more diverse, with many different individuals, only a few showing any likeness to another. Some with dark hair, some with light, short hair, long hair, round faces, angular chins, strong noses, elegant brows. Piercings, tattoos, scars, all setting them apart from each other.

One of them, a very young woman, no more than eighteen, was crying silently in the corner, heartbroken tears and voiceless sobs wracking her body. A man was sitting beside her, holding her, rubbing her arm, whispering.

"Don't worry, they'll bring her back. He never fails. You can trust him. He'll find Sakura." He thought he heard the man say to her, although it was hard to hear from his distance.

"Where are you from, Link? I've never heard an accent like yours." The mother asked him, noticing his concerned face, drawing his attention away.

He was about to answer when another voice spoke before him. A voice addled and shaking with age.

"He's Hylian," the huddle of blankets beside her moved, and a wrinkled old hand appeared from beyond the blankets. Afterward the blankets fell from around the person's head, revealing a very old woman. Her hair was short, and as white as the snow that was still falling outside, her face riddled with wrinkles. Her almond shaped eyes were barely open, crust filling the corners of them, the hue faded and milky. She was blind. "I haven't heard a Hylian in years. Who's leading nowadays, hmm? Are the Nohansen's still in power? Ah, Hyrule, such a beautiful place it was, full of beautiful people to boot!"

"Grandma," the mother said with a sigh, giving him an apologetic look as she placed a hand on the old lady's arm. "He's very tired, and I'm sure he's not interested in one of your stories."

"Actually," he interrupted. "You can go on ma'am, if you'd like. I wouldn't mind."

The mother looked at him with surprise in her eyes.

"I really wouldn't mind, it might be nice to hear about Hyrule from someone else's point of view."

Even without the use of her eyes, he couldn't help but smile when the old woman smirked, and playfully elbowed her granddaughter. It made him miss his own family.

"I like him! He has a right-smart head on his shoulders!"

"You should listen too, Anne. I met your grandfather in Hyrule. Now he was a strapping lad in his youth, oh, he could charm a snake with that smile of his! Son of an innkeeper, he was, near the lake. I suspect that inn had more than one business, if you know what I mean, some pretty shady lookin' ladies were always hangin' around that place. I was a right fish out of water, fresh from the village with my dad, oh, the looks I got!"

As the old woman continued, He leaned back, finally feeling comfortable for the first time in a long time. He listened with interest as the snow continued to fall outside the cave…

"Goddesses be damned!" He cursed, looking around the completely white landscape with tired, anxious silver-flecked green eyes. The horse beneath him shuddered with cold, the wind ruthlessly whipping at the animal's thin summer hide, lashing at the beast's eyes, rendering it blind with cold and pain. Even he could see nothing, not even the tracks made by his steed seconds before it had planted its hooves, willing to move not another step.

"Where could she have gone?"

"Dad!" Another voice called from behind. He turned in the saddle, shielding his eyes with a hand as another large silhouette came into view from beyond the curtain of snow, a black shape moving toward him.

"Any sign?" He asked. The silhouette came close enough to be viewed. Another man, younger than himself astride the back of a black mare, the snow sticking to the horse's sweated-out coat, giving it the look of old age. The man astride had pulled his trench coat tight about his body, a few strands of his dark auburn hair escaping the attached hood, flying in every direction as the wind caught hold of them. His honey-brown eyes held a look of defeat.

"Not a trace. Would we even find one? The snow has to be at least three feat deep, dad. I think it's time to face facts. She can't be alive."

"I refuse to believe that, and I don't want to hear another word of it, Remus! We keep looking!" He said determinedly, turning away from his son, wracking his brain. She had to be out there, and to hell with him if he was going to give up.

"Kan," a rough, tart female voice said to him. A woman only a little younger than Remus was seated backwards on the same horse as he. Her face was that of which no one would mess with if given the chance, her eyes a hue of melted iron that practically glowed in the dim atmosphere of snow. Although her coat was long, and well-sewn of thick leather, the sleeves had been completely torn off, leaving her arms bare, and underneath, easily seen, as the coat was unbuttoned, only a light, whitish-blue slip and thin trousers were worn. And yet the cold seemed not to affect her in the least. She stared off into the storm, never letting her eyes wander from a particular, unseen place. "I can look for her. The cold doesn't bother me, and we'd cover more ground."

He looked back at her. She was a strange one. Showing up in the middle of the night at their campsite, hanging around and eventually catching Remus' interest. He couldn't quite place what made him uneasy about the girl. There was something about her. Her eyes were just so lifeless, her skin so dull and pale, her hair limp and barely ever grew. It was like she was already dead. She made the horses nervous.

"Fine, go." He honestly didn't' care about her much. She wasn't under his care, she could do as she pleased. If she wanted to risk her life, all the power to her.

She leapt from the horse with single easy bound, landing on her feet in the snow. He watched as she gave a single wink to his son, and then dashed off with a stride that was inhumanly swift given the thick snow, bounding like a beast through the drifts.

She could smell him. She could smell his beast. More importantly, she could smell Majora on his clothes. He was very near, and she was going to find him. Like a creature raised in snow, she darted with ease, dodging holes that no one else would have seen, leaping rocks and logs hidden just beneath the blanket of white powder. She was getting close, and that excited her. As soon as she laid eyes upon him her breath quickened. Her vision became utterly focused on his shape.

The thought of battle made the blood pump through her veins.

When she came close enough that she knew he had seen her, however, she stopped. She wanted him to make the first move. The thrill of it would have been lost if he had not been expecting her.

"You there," she heard him call. He was looking directly at her. She laughed. "Are you Gea?"

She slunk forward a few more feet, feet silent, eyes narrowing to slits. She could barely contain her excitement. She hoped that he would falter, slip up. She wanted him to bleed. She wanted to feel it, feel him struggle. She wanted to taste his blood, smell it on her skin, watch as it seeped into the snow, dying the scene crimson.

"Depends on who's asking," she responded, staying her distance. She could see that underneath his cloak he was strong, well muscled. She wanted him to run. "You're Majora's new pet, yeah?"

She watched him nod.

"What? Did she kick you out? Well, I don't need someone else getting in the way, so you might as well turn around and head back to your precious mistress. I work alone." She knew why he was here, but she wanted to taunt him, provoke him, make him thrash. If he would just talk a bit more, she could find out what made him tick. What made him squirm. It wouldn't take her long.

"Her ladyship sent me. You're taking too long, she's grown impatient."

"And who died and made you king? I'll get the job done, and I'll get it done on my time, thank you."

"Do you talk to her Highness like that?"

"I don't talk to her, that's the point. I do my thing, she does hers. My job is to kill, not to be sociable."

"Yes, but you haven't killed him yet, and the shadow woman is out for his blood as well, I suggest you hurry up."

"Yeah, yeah, fine. Now get out of my territory, little brat."

She could see him scowl even through the curtain of snow.

"Say that to my face!" He snapped, only regretting his words when her shape disappeared from view. He had heard many stories of Gea, The Devil of The North. Never once had she run from a battle, and never once had she lost one. To go against her was considered certain death. Even Majora had warned him to be on his guard, and supposedly the woman was on the same side them. He now knew better. She was on no ones' side but her own. She did as someone told her only if it pleased her.

He gave a cry of fear when she suddenly appeared in front of his horse, making the beast scream and rear up, front hooves flailing only inches from her face. But she didn't move. Instead she moved closer, grabbing the mangy beast's reins and yanking him down with an inhuman burst of strength. The horse gave another squeal as its balance was taken, and it came plummeting down into the snow, throwing his rider several feet away into another drift of snow.

The horse was quicker to his feet than his rider. By the time he had realized what had happened, it was too late for him. She had already grabbed him by the collar of his undershirt, had already hefted him up, till only his toes touched the snow. She then threw him back to jar his mind, confuse him. Pinned him to the snow, making him sink down.

His scream was muffled by her hand over his mouth, the knife she had had hidden under her wrist stabbed through his upper arm, near the shoulder joint.

"You can take that back to Majora. I will get the job done. I don't need help. From anyone." She said, standing, wiping her hands together, feeling his warm blood smear against her skin. Turning, she strode away from the scene, happily leaving him with a firm reminder of whose territory it was. It was then that she felt him. A cruel smile crept onto her lips. He was here. He was coming. The Deity had arrived…

You probably all noticed the title change, as I discussed in the last chapter. Courage Of Awesome suggested a wonderful title, and so that shall be the winner! Thanks to her for her lovely suggestion, and here's her very smart reasoning behind it:

"There are so many people in this story and a lot of them meet with each other, affecting the other in different ways. They make them think and choose things that could possibly change their fates. Everyone affects everyone."

Thanks again to Courage Of Awesome for the title!