With his back turned to her, Link walked along the wall that separated him from Zelda and ran his fingertips along the rough texture. He passed by Bozai's tent which was remarkably and, well, not surprisingly still set up outside of the town. The other boy made a quick quip about two men gathering outside of a town full of women, but Link didn't even spare the latter a single glance. Normally he might have teased his questionable acquaintance about his obsession with the Gerudo women, but the Hylian simply didn't have the heart or energy to do so today.
Instead he walked along the perimeter of the town mindlessly, unaware that he was even doing so until the blue glow of the Daqo Chisay shrine was a couple feet away. His head tilted back and his gaze wandered up to the moon before he decided it would be best to try and settle down for the night. Yes, that was surely his best bet. Closing the gap between right now and tomorrow would pass by much faster if he slept. By the time he was awake there would surely be news of Zelda's state.
So, Link sat down on the cool sand with his back resting against the wall and exhaled deeply.
This ... is not where he should be right now. Arguably, he should be at Zelda's side just as her father and former king of Hyrule had requested. But beyond that, the pair shouldn't even be here at all. They should be riding back to Hateno Village with Link making continuous remarks to Zelda about how dangerous it was for her to stray from his side for any reason. He didn't wish to be controlling, but the truth was that it was still a dangerous world out there for her. Even without the reign of Calamity Ganon over the land, other threats lurked in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Today had been proof enough of that.
His palm slapped lightly against his forehead and blue eyes squeezed shut tightly. How had it come to this ... if only he moved faster, or hadn't succumb to a sneak attack by the Blademaster ... he and Zelda would undoubtedly be riding home with only a few minor cuts and scrapes.
The physical inflictions he could handle. He could take having the wind knocked out of him a couple times — hell, he could even take the tight chains they'd slapped around his wrists and used to drag and parade him around like the prize he was to them.
What he couldn't take was the overwhelming guilt. He despised himself for feeling like this — for feeling so beyond worthless that there wasn't even a proper way to describe it. It's like he felt all of nothing at the same time that he felt the waves of guilt crashing down and suffocating him. He didn't know which he would rather have; the void of nothing, or the drowning self-pity so the two mixed within him and created a tsunami of emotion.
Dragging the hand down his face, Link's blurry vision reflected a barely visible redness. For a moment, he thought he'd rubbed his eyes too hard. But when the blurriness began to subside and his vision was restored, the boys spine straightened up with shock.
Dried blood.
