Fi was a servent of Hylia, merely a living tool in her grand plan. She had no reason or need to pray.

She was considering it, though.

Link - her master, champion Link, Wild - had been given bombs.

Unlimited bombs.

Why Hylia thought to give him bombs she did not know. But she did not think that deforestation was part of the plan.

"Link." She was calm. She was rational. "Link, I do not think that this is a good idea."

Link brightened at her attention, but merely flashed a smile, and went back to watching the Moblins below. Aside from his one group on the Plateau, Link had killed monsters without hesitation. Fi hadn't particularly asked, but she wasn't sure if he would answer either.

Anyways, he was eyeing moblins, and the nearby barrels of explosives, and had managed to roll a round bomb and sneak a square bomb nearby. While his supply was unlimited, he could only summon one of each at a time, which Fi was thankful for.

At least until he set off the explosion, which proceeded to level the trees, set the field on fire, and thoroughly roast no less than two bucks.

Link stood amongst the carnage, hands dripping from wrenching out the moblins' insides, giggling.

. . .maybe she really should start praying.

"Fi!" He runs up to her, bouncing on his toes. "Fi, Fi, Fi!"

He chimes her name like it's a song, eyes alight. He thrusts his hands in front of her, making an excited noise that she interprets as 'look'. She peers at the glittering shards in his hands and realizes it's gemstones: shavings of blue and red and yellow, interspaced with chunks of opalescent stone. She then sees the vines woven around them, and realizes it's some kind of necklace, unclasped.

Oh, so this is what he had been doing for the last hour and a half. He'd asked her to rest for a bit here - she had almost gone after him when she heard the bombs going off, but when he had come back within her sense but far enough not to be seen, she had complied.

"It's lovely," she murmurs. "Very nice - I like how you spaced the opal in between."

He beams at her and trills.

And she realizes that when he says her name he does sing; he's trying to talk like her, with her steel-chimes and tinkling bells.

She smiles as Link turns and runs off, chasing fireflies.

"Ha-ten-o," Link hums, letting the name bounce off of his tongue. That's the next town they're aiming for, which he heard off of some traveler at the last stable. When Fi had asked him why he seemed so entranced, he had just shrugged.

They were following alongside a path (Link tended to forgo shoes, preferring the feeling of grass beneath him), Link swinging his arms. Today was a good day, she noted fondly.

Admiring the warmth of the sunlight, eyes closed, she let loose a little chime of contentment. It's been rough, since they left the plateau, Link struggling to remember hylian things, like places and people and interactions, feeling awkward as he tried to rejoin society. But Fi had been helping him where she could, encouraging him, and reminding him that it was okay if he couldn't be with people all the time, or he said something odd. As long as you were kind, the people of Hyrule would be in turn.

But it wasn't only that; there were the memories. She felt them when her master experienced them, felt his dawning horror at the ruined outposts were surely the bones of people were rotting beneath the ground. She had been quick to snip at that faint inkling that this was his fault, because it wasn't. And she would make sure he knew that.

She would help restore hope in him, as he would for Hyrule.