A little snack before we plunge into the beginning of arc 3.
Interlude 3: Desert Storms
Two figures framed in tan cloaks, one broad of shoulder and great of height, the other slim and sharp as a spear, watched as a plume of dust arose, blanketing the desert west of the mountains on which they stood. The cliffs here were sheer, the mountains weathered and beginning to fail, corroded by the relentless desert gales.
Just like my people, the tall one thought.
"Are you certain of this?" asked the other. "Hyrule is a dangerous land. They do not care much for outsiders, I have heard, especially ones such as us."
"Yes." A pause. The wind brushed their cheek, but failed to remove their hood. Up so high, the winds were chilled by the mountain air, making the hair on their yet bare arms prick up. A west wind, as always; the wind that brought death on its wings. "I am certain. What else can I do? My people are starving. The desert springs have gone dry. Our crops do not sprout. The herds have nothing to eat. If I do not go, the Gerudo will die. I must seek aid in that land beyond the mountains."
"It is unwise. You know what will befall us."
"That is only what might happen."
"So you doubt my sis-"
"I must take the chance, and pray that she is wrong this time." But had she ever been? Her wisdom was deep as a desert well. "What kind of monarch would I be if I stayed? I must provide for my people."
The slim figure sighed, then placed a hand on the other's elbow, grasping it tight. "If she is right, you understand, it will go even worse for us. This time, we are choosing to deceive them..."
"I know."
"And yet you wish to continue with this folly?"
"Last week, I watched a child faint in the marketplace, all bones and parched skin. They died in my arms before I could reach a doctor. The week before, I saw three urchins fight over half a rotten apple. When I gave each one a piece, they scrambled amongst themselves once they thought I had gone. My heart broke each time. I cannot stand to just watch as this desert, our home and life-soil, betrays its very people and turns us into nothing better than starving dogs. If I do, how can I hold my head up high?"
"It is about your pride, then."
The large figure shook off their companion's grasp, then rolled their hands into fists. "My pride? My pride!" A bitter, scoffing laugh escaped their lips. "For ten years I have begged Din for help. For mercy. For some spring of kindness. And all this time, the drought has only gotten worse."
"Son."
"Mother."
They met each other's eyes.
"I can no longer stay, waiting for some type of relief the gods refuse to give." The tall figure turned their back on the desert. "At some point, a man must find his own mercy...no matter the price."
"Then we shall help you prepare," came the reply. "It is not something that should be done with haste, dearest one."
A smile, shadowed, slid across their face. "You haven't called me that since I was a boy."
"You shall always be a small boy to me."