Chapter 8

I had slept through the day without meaning to, and that frightened me. The fact that I had taken so ill after a fit in the sun didn't sit well with me. Did I have some sickness that made the sun lethal to me? Was I so pale for that purpose? But if that were the case, I could never live a normal life. I'd be little more than human, a monster, a sort of vampire the craved the night and feasted on the sunshine—

I shook my head hard and put aside the too-big boots I had been putting on. I couldn't stay like this. I couldn't stay here.

With so many unknowns and terror pressing in on me on all sides, I took off into the night to the only thing I knew.

My hands shook as I knocked hard on his door. A stray thought floated in that he would be asleep—then what would I do?—when the door opened.

Without meaning to, without planning to, I flung myself onto him, trembling as though freezing to death and starving for his warmth.

"What's happening to me?" I whimpered into his shoulder, clinging so hard I could have sworn he would break. "Last—yesterday—I'm waking up next I'm—am I dying? Am—am I just going to die? Is it—"

"Hey—"

"I d-dddon't want to live my life in the dark, did I almost die? What happened to me—please don't let me die—please, I'm sorry for being mean, I'm sorry for being bad, I didn't mean—"

He let out a loud sigh and pulled me in roughly, which was more of a trick than ought to be as he was shorter than me, and kicked the door close behind me.

"Breathe, you're freaking yourself out for no reason—" he started.

"You don't know that, you dd-don't know—"

"Fine, then, shut. Up."

I snapped my jaw closed. I had done wrong—I was too forward—

But he didn't let me pull away. Rather, he ducked down and nimbly swept my legs up from beneath me. It was only then did I realize that the only reason I could see him and anything of his house was because of the moonlight pouring through the window, because his fireplace had been left empty and cold.

I told myself I could allow him to carry me since my crumbling world didn't make sense anyways. He didn't take me far, but to the back of his house where a soft pallet bed had been built into the wall. He sat me on it, then tugged up the blankets about me, even throwing one above my head like a hood so only my face remained uncover. He paused to look at me, and the strangest, most open of smiles graced his lips.

"Never thought I'd see you like that," but he sobered quickly. "You're like ice. Stay here, I'll light a fire."

I then noticed he was fully dressed, boots and all. The whole town had been asleep, and the moon high, and yet here he was…and that night I had come he had been asleep on the floor, when he had a bed the whole time.

As I shivered and waited, I took in more details I had overlooked: a sharpened knife stuck in one of the bed posts, a line of laundry hanging from the ceiling, a ladder down to what could have been a basement below—

And paintings. Beautiful, colorful paintings filling the farthest corner of his house from floor to ceiling, hidden from anyone that might enter unless they took the liberty to sit on his bed. They ranged from goats, to the children, to Ilia—but half way down they warped, darkened, depicting strange beasts of ethereal forms and heavy masks, geometric patterns of sharp red, malformed heads, fabric hands, never an eye—

The snap of a happy flame over a log broke my attention. Link's shadow had been thrown to the opposite wall by a warm glow that batted back the silver of the moon. I watched the shadow, marred by the ladder and platform it led to and bookshelves, stand, brush off its hands, and reappear from around the corner to me. Without a word he picked me up, blankets and all, nearly disappearing himself in the process, and carried me effortlessly to the braided rug in front of the fireplace. After sitting me down, he readjusted the blankets and turned back to unhook what could have been a kettle from the fire. In silence he filled up the kettle with water he had in a large bucket at the end of the counter, then he put it back over the fire. Only then did he sit down by me, half-turned from the fire. He leaned a hand on his thigh and gave me another one of his piercing, thorough stares.

"Breathing again?" he asked.

"More or less," I mumbled with a sniff. My body was taking its own sweet time generating enough heat to be trapped by the blankets.

"Well, just keep doing that for a bit."

I didn't want to nod. In the scant calm that returned to me, a bit of the old voice began to crackle across the darkness to me. No memories, no friends, it whispered, but no one could take my pride.

But I just snorted at it. No use to it now. No use to anything.

"Um, those pictures…they're good," I said, ducking my face behind the blanket. Compliments, apparently, didn't come easy to me.

"Thanks."

"What…those monsters…those are what are in your nightmares?"

He sighed. So he thought I had forgotten, eh? "Sometimes. Maybe you should get some sleep. You've been through a bit."

"I've been asleep all day!" And I felt like my brain was being scrambled for it—even more than it already was, that is.

"Then sleep more, until I can figure out how to fix this."

The way he said that made me wiggle my head out from the blankets and frown. He had grabbed a poker and was poking the logs lazily, occasionally moving an ember under the kettle.

"You know what's going on?"

"I rarely 'know.' Often I just work with the hints I'm given and hope it works."

"Then give me a hint, as I'm drowning to death for one."

"Seeing as the last hint sent you into seizures," he said, pulling out the kettle to check the water, even though it had only been over the fire a minute or so, "I'd rather not. Apparently bluntness isn't the way to go, though there is one answer I like to know."

"Oh, only one? Gee, aren't you lucky."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Good to see you coming back around."

"Only because you're being irritatingly vague."

"But I'm going to have to be to keep you safe, I think."

"Safe from what? All you've done is pretend I'm some fantasy girlfriend of yours—"

"She isn't my girlfriend," he said sharply.

A bit affronted, I sniffed and threw the blanket back over my head. "Fine, oh crazy one. Let's say I am Midna and that I do know you in my pretty black thoughts. Why is it that the two times I think I'm actually remember something, and about you, I daresay, I get that…whatever that was, hmm? But scratch that, how would I—or Midna—get from that different dimension you talked about to here? Magic?"

He pushed the kettle back over the fire. "Hmmph. More or less. Though…magic has rules. Magic doesn't just poof."

"Oh, dear me, all my dreams are ruined."

"She can't be here," he said, more to the fire to me. "You're right, it should be…shadow and lights can't mingle. They can't. Which is why…"

He turned his face to me, wild eyes once more searching, blazing with something I couldn't pick out.

"Either you or me have to go. I'm more inclined to myself—"

I nearly jumped to my feet, an unknown indignation prickling every nerve in my body. But, as I was ensnared in blankets, I had to settle with yelling.

"I will not chase you away from your home!"

Another jerk of a smile. "I thought you'd say that. And, well…nothing moves you once your mind is on something."

I shuffled uneasily. It was a losing war to argue that he didn't know me.

He poked another ember under the kettle, yawned, and pushed himself to his feet. From there he went to the counter, where he set up what looked to be mugs with pinches of tea leaves. Then he crossed the hearth to the bookshelves next to his door and beneath the second floor platform, where he pulled out some paper, a book, and some pencils.

"I'll write a letter to Renaldo," he said. "And send it with you. I'm…I'm afraid I can't go with you, because, well, every moment you spend with me could jog something in your memory, and it's probably best that you not remember."

Whatever I had been expecting, it wasn't that. "Not remem—where the hell do you think you're sending me? And how? Do you expect me to magically know where I'm going?"

"Of course not. I'll…find someone to take you there."

"Forget it, just take me yourself." Bullying him would be ten times easier then figuring out how to bully anyone else, at least. And he was the one that wanted me away from here anyways, whether I needed to be or not.

He hesitated once more, but finished sitting down next to me, tucking the second of the pencils behind his ear.

"If I can't find anyone else…" he groaned and pressed a forefinger and thumb to his eyes. "For the love of Nayru…" He took a deep breath. "There's no telling what could happen if you remember. Last time you were exposed you nearly died…and if you loved the world of light that much…"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Nothing," he dropped his hand and adjusted the page. "Be quiet for a moment, I need to write."