A baby? My thoughts reeled.

I looked down at the child huddled in a green blanket. Small tufts of strawberry blond curls, similar to his mother, could be seen. His blue eyes stared at me with great intensity. They seemed to say 'what are you up to, strange man?' I smiled and then his face creased into a frown.

"Let's get you out of here, shall we? What's your name?"

"Oh, thank you, it's Medilia." The woman's breath seemed laboured. "Please sir, the forest. We must get to the forest."

"Ronri Okane. Forest, right. I think we can manage that."

A wall of rippling muscle, clanging weapons and thundering hooves lay between us and the winding path of pine trees far in the distance. A portal would be easiest of course, but as I had never been to Kokiri Forest that plan was moot. My stomach sank and at once I felt fatigued.

Now, now, I do want this child of destiny to survive, don't I? Rauru mentioned I was some form of caretaker for the world. What exactly did he mean? With this question I looked to the sky and wondered where demi-gods stood in the pecking order of Goddesses, deities, spirits and sages. Is this really any of my business?

"Mr Ronri?" Medilia stumbled. I held out my arm and she clung to me. "I'm sorry for the trouble."

"No trouble," I lied. Whatever I was supposed to be, my instincts clearly wanted to help. I could trust that at least. I raised my free hand and at once, a pulsing purple shield surrounded us. "Let us go then."

Her mouth dropped open and then just as quickly she closed it again. "Erm, sir, what is that?"

"Oh this? Just an invisibility shield - within a reasonable radius. I've tested it myself. It's perfectly safe, I assure you."

We staggered across the battlefield, any fighter that smashed into us was instantly bumped away. You might call it cheating. Personally, I view use of initiative to avoid conflict as a legitimate life skill, that is, the skill of staying alive.

I could dwell on things - a dangerous pastime for me. Had I known how to create spells as a soldier, I might have saved some of my brothers in arms. I couldn't do anything then, but perhaps now I could tinker with the trajectory of a spear or two. Maybe push a Goron slightly to the left or trip up the odd Gerudo, nothing wrong with that I should think.

When Medilia stumbled for the second time, she fell to her knees. Instantly, the baby let out a raging wail. "Oh Link, my darling, shhh now. Silly mummy scared you, didn't she? I didn't mean to. Shhh, shhh."

She continued to rock the baby as I considered our travel arrangements. Levitation would probably frighten little 'Link' even more, but I had an idea.

"Kilton, here boy." The husky gave a questioning woof. "I have a biscuit for you."

"Goodness, he won't be able to carry me," Medilia protested as I lifted her onto his back.

"Have no fear, I will make you as light as a feather." And sure enough, Kilton took his load like a good sport and without complaint. "My own backpack is rather large as you can see. I use this method all the time."

"I…" Medilia gave up and instead held on tight to the soft fur.

The orange sun hung low in the sky when we came upon the entrance of the forest. A large tunnel led to a rope bridge that wobbled as we crossed. Here, we stopped for the night and admired the view as the local Lampyridae glowed and drifted in the humid air. The canopy above was so thick that only dying streams of light made it to floor.

"So, why Kokiri Forest?" I asked, busying myself with retrieving the tinder box and some leftovers.

"They're a neutral party."

"Ah, why are the others fighting exactly?"

Medilia sighed. "Our king was accused of keeping the Triforce for himself. The Gorons demanded it be shared amongst all the races, but the Zora trust King Hyrule's judgement. They believe the Goddesses' gift is far too dangerous for any mortal. Queen Zora in particular wished for peace more than anything as she had just laid a clutch of Zora eggs. But that terrible man came from the desert."

"Ganondorf," I sighed.

"Is that his name?" She shivered. "My husband suspected the Gerudo King of poisoning the Zora water supply. He tried so hard to find proof." Medilia coughed into a handkerchief. "But he's cunning and covers his tracks well."

"Indeed."

"But then, fire arrows came over the walls and set the market ablaze. People ran towards the gates."

"Oh dear."

"Arn knew of a secret passage. He showed me how to escape and said to head for the forest." The young woman's lips trembled. "He took his sword, kissed me and that's the last I saw of him."

Sounds like a bad romance novel, I thought. Still, I pat her shoulder and said, "Try not to worry. He might still be alive."

"That's kind of you to say." But she shook her head and gazed into the flames.

We shared a light supper of bread and cheese. Not the most filling, but from the way she gobbled it down, appreciated. Surrounded by the hoots of owls and caws of crows, night crept in. I poked at the fire with my stick as Medilia sang a gentle lullaby. She nuzzled Link's cheek and stroked his pointy ears. The baby gurgled, never taking his eyes off his mother until they closed very slowly. A dull ache grew in my chest and I looked away.

Our introductions had been made in great haste. Now, with the baby settled, Medilia made attempts at conversation. "You must be a great magician," she began, "I've never seen magic like that before. It was fantastic."

"Aren't you afraid?" I replied warily, brushing crumbs off my chin. Kilton came to sniff around and I pacified him with a stray titbit or two. He lay down by my feet and yawned.

"I've always been taught to read the actions of a person, as well as listen to their words. I don't sense any danger from you."

"Jolly good."

"There is great sadness though."

I knew Medilia meant no harm, but her observation stung and festered. My father had beaten me. Akisin lied to me. Guru-Guru had left for Kakariko and then Yasei…Yasei… My vision blurred and I swallowed hard. "Yes, to every life a little rain must fall."

Although, mine feels more like a monsoon, I thought bitterly.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Ronri."

I nodded. "My fiancée, Yasei, she is very far away."

"Ah, that must be so difficult. Being apart. My father once said that whenever there is a meeting, a parting follows." Medilia smiled. "However, a parting doesn't need to last forever…Whether a parting be forever or for a short time…That's up to you, right?"

If only that were true! I rubbed my hands together. "A fine phrase, thank you."

For some reason, the words of Link's mother have always brought me comfort. I remember them when staring at starless night sky. When my resolve begins to falter and I question whether I can go on. Sad that I would meet Medilia's son in the future and see him grow into a heroic, young man but she would not. For by the morning, she was gone and I never saw her again.

"Yasei told you to give us a mask?"

"For safe keeping," I repeated.

The dark bags under her eyes made Mrs Muryo look far older than she was. Her thick, brown hair had been braided with blue ribbon and smelt of cinnamon. It had been many years since I last set foot in this house. With the table of bottles filled with multi-coloured sand and sun catches that twinkled from the window. The rocking chair by the fire that Yasei toppled off because she swung too hard and our collage of pressed swift violets and sugar paper brought memories crashing back.

"I don't get it; she'd send a letter…something. This isn't like her. And this mask, what's it supposed to be?"

What's left of Yasei's soul, I thought. Watching as the shop keeper turned it over and over in her big hands, guilt gnawed at my insides. I'd hoped it would bring them comfort. In truth, I was also terrified that the mask might break before I brought her back. All it took was a lucky strike from a stalfo or werewolf. No, she would be safer here.

"She'll come home for winter, love," Mr Muryo said. He picked up a book, dusted it off and then set it down again. "Yasei is a woman grown. She can look after herself."

"She'd never leave Kilton. Never."

"Yeah, I know. Oh, thanks for bringing him back, son." Yasei's father stroked the husky's forehead fondly. Kilton leaned into it demanding more and more. Despite everything the dog had been through, being fussed was still the best thing in the world. These people could love him properly and he'd be surrounded by the smell of his master. He'd be happier here.

I picked up my tea cup and blew gently. The hot mint refreshed my palette. It had suffered through a rather dull diet of scraps lately that I fed mindlessly into my mouth. Demi-gods still needed sustenance, but I no longer took pleasure from the act of eating. To sit on a chair rather than a log or a stone, however, felt like heaven. My travels had taken me far and wide across the land of Hyrule, and now I was…home. Where it all began.

"I'm going to keep looking for her," I promised them. "And don't worry, when I find her, she'll be having a few cross words from me."

Mr Muryo chuckled. "You do that, Mr…?"

"Oh, I'm just a humble mask salesman. No one important."

The couple looked at each other. "Strange, it just feels like we know you from somewhere."

"Well, that couldn't be, heh." I stood up, rather more abruptly than intended. "I best be off – I'm a very busy fellow you see."

Yasei's mother blinked at me. She smoothed down the creases of my purple shirt and my desire for a warm hug became desperate. "You just…look after yourself, young man. Maybe one day, you and Yasei could come visit for tea. Tell us about your adventures."

My mouth became dry and I swallowed with difficulty. "I would like that. I'd like that a lot."

As I tried to leave by the squeaky front gate, Kilton gave a howl and rushed to follow me. I bent down to my doggy friend.

"We've been through a lot, haven't we?" I said. The top part of his head always had the softest fur. I liked to ruffle it up and pat it down again. "This parting need not last forever…" my voice broke.

Kilton barked and my heart eased just a tiny fraction. To think I could ever have despised this loyal, sweet face. His paws had tread in our footprints every step of the way and he'd showed courage that put me to shame. I poked his wet nose.

"It's just, it hurts so very much my friend. And there's no need for us both to be miserable, hmm? You stay here and wait for Yasei to come home." As I stood, Kilton began to whine. "Now, now, stop all the fuss." I rummaged in my pocket. "Goodness, I actually have one left."

The husky's mouth began to slobber as I laid the biscuit flat on my palm. He went to swipe the treat away with his tongue, but paused. Two trusting blue eyes looked into mine.

"It's alright," I told him. "You deserve it."

As my friend chomped happily, I weaved a spell. Kilton finished his biscuit but then he sniffed at me suspiciously. There was a pause before he turned tail and ran straight back to the waiting Muryōs. I waved goodbye and forced myself to keep walking.

Just one more stop to make.

I crept passed the blue painted door. He'd spent an entire summer once painting this door. Ensuring paint had soaked into every grain of the wood. A dozen coats to keep it fresh, at least, back then. Now the door looked weather worn and tired. I peeked in through the round window. He was there, hunched over the wrinkled papers, his feather quill dipping into the ink. Every carefully calculated stroke glided across the page. My father had a fine hand and I would watch those curls and swirls obsessively to replicate them.

It had been so long.

When I zapped him and he flew, landing hard on the forest floor, I'd thought him dead. I had not written nor visited since. Why? I can't rightly say. The relationship between father and son can be tricky. On the windowsill something caught my eye. In disbelief, I brought my nose to the glass.

It couldn't be, my thoughts spiralled.

But it was. The handle looked a little wonky now. The spruce branch had grown brown and withered, but there could be no doubt. With bounded twine and residue of sticky sap, my slingshot had been repaired. I let out a shaky breath. He'd snapped it in half. I remembered his face twisting in pleasure. To see it whole again just sitting there, I brought a hand to my mouth.

"Who's there?"

I stepped back. My bumbling feet caught the plant pot that keeled over. It smashed far too loudly. The broken pieces scattered as soil smothered the innocent flowers.

"Ronri? Is that you, Ronri?" His voice sounded strange. Not angry, but how could I put it? Hopeful.

By the Goddesses, I thought. Father, I've made such a mess of things.

I should be able to tell him, but I couldn't stomach his judgement. The 'I told you so' lecture played in my mind. His footsteps were at the door.

"Please wait. Please."

He'd be a madman, talking about a son that no one else in the village remembered.

"Don't go."

I traced a symbol in the air. I would free us both of this burden. After all, I didn't actually belong here. I wasn't a true Hylian. I am but a humble mask salesman.

"Ronri…" his shouts ceased. He paused at the door until I heard the shuffle of feet as he turned away. Slowly, my father walked back to the desk and eased himself into the leather chair. He stared out the window for a time, before finally, he returned to his writing.

I pressed my palm against the cold glass. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "Perhaps we might start over in another time. When I've fixed everything." I turned and stepped over the shattered plant pot.

Now I truly was alone in the world.