This year has gone by so fast; I barely noticed how long it had been since my last update. I'm very sorry to disappoint you all with how much time there is between each chapter. Truth is, I've been trying desperately to improve my skills on different subjects, not just writing. Please enjoy this chapter (whenever I finish it, that is).

Chapter 2: In a Silent Way

MALON WOKE TO THE INNKEEPER'S DAUGHTER shaking her shoulder gently. She seemed uptight and terrified as always, but said nothing too worrying.

"Mistress Lon Lon?" she asked softly. "Mr Agricola is waiting outside. May I invite him in?"

Malon squinted against the candle in her hand. "What time is it?"

The woman's bottom lip quivered. "4:30 in the morning, madam. Now, should I let him in?"

"Have him wait at the front; I'll be right there."

She scurried off as Malon struggled to get out of bed. She only wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and tucked her hair in the collar of her gown. Malon didn't want anyone to see the rat's nest of knots.

Even with his coat and hat on the hook at the door, Venat was soaked in rainwater. The man at the front desk looked horrified.

"Mistre- Malon," he started, "I hate to wake you so early, but I have a request, and I humbly ask-"

Malon rubbed her eyes and groaned – a good way to hurry him, she discovered.

"Savis is worried about my journey to Lurelin – no, I'm not about to cancel my order - and I couldn't bear leaving her here, fearing for me. Our son works so hard in service to the princess, and the hero does, too, but could you please ask him for aid?"

"You want me to ask . . . Link? To escort you?"

Venat nodded. "Please. We need to trade – it's essential. Most take the Bridge of Hylia to get to Lurelin, but Sir Fidelis knows a separate route, correct? We could make it there in less than a day! Please, Malon."

She shook her head. "There's no need to beg. I planned on leaving later today anyway, so I'll stop by the castle on my way back. I haven't a doubt in my mind that he'll accept. In fact, I'll have Link bring the horses with him."

CLUNK!

The innkeeper's daughter stood over a fallen mop, her face bright pink.

"Sor-sorry about the inconvenience!" she squeaked, scrambling to pick it up. "I'll just- uh-"

"It's alright," Malon assured her (it's more than alright, because I had no idea how to continue that conversation).

Venat's mustache twitched. "I'll be going now. And, Malon?"

"Yes, sir?"

He threw his coat on, shivering from the wet fabric. "If you see our son in Castle Town, send him our regards." (In a non-assassin-y way.)

Everyone in Hyrule was acting like a shaken bee hive, jumping at anything and everything. Just that morning, a woman had nearly been run over by an unattended cart ("I swear I tied the mules up!"). Two Castle Town children stumbled home with cuts and bruises from a small quarrel turned rock fight. One of the butlers in the castle had a breakdown when he couldn't get a window to close. The weather was taking its toll.

Link stretched out his muscles. The stable boy had insisted on taking care of all the cleaning, but the Hero of Hyrule needed to see Epona. The bad weather kept her cooped up in a stall, her bitterness stewing. Link didn't want to find the little boy with his face kicked in one morning, so he made sure to visit her.

Epona wasn't quite as angry with him. A carrot or two and she seemed to forget about everything.

Link made small popping sounds with his mouth as he sat down on a haybale. Cleaning the stable had taken longer than usual, as horses staying in all day meant more surprises to clear out later.

"I've alway enjoyed rain, but this needs to stop," he murmured. Epona rumbled in agreement.

One of the off duty guards paused from brushing her horse. "I hear ya. We're so bored in the barracks, we've been making up our own card games."

"And I always best you," another added.

She scoffed. "Sure, Oethar. One day I'll find out how you cheat."

The knight poked his head out from behind a disgruntled ox – why was that here, again? "Eh, believe what you will. You always one-up me on duty, anyway."

The guard grumbled something under her breath. "If we'll ever be on duty again. I heard some people want to disband the military for being 'useless,' or some other rubbish reason." Her eyes turned to Link. "Have you heard anything about that?" (They were pretty useless in Twilight Princess.)

He shifted uncomfortably – he should've known the conversation would go this direction. "That's only one nobleman pushing for that, but it isn't going to happen. Besides-" he pointed skyward (sword) "-going on duty isn't much possible right now."

Oethar hopped over the wooden partition into his female commrade's stall. "Yeah, some of my friends are out patrolling villages. Now I'm stuck here with the worst card player of all."

She shoved her brush into his chest. "I'm getting her some oats. Help me for a while, will you?"

She didn't wait for a response. She was out of sight in seconds.

Link turned to his friend once she was out of earshot. "So, what's on your mind?"

Oethar's shoulders loosened, his expression deflating. The splash of freckles across his nose looked less like stars and more like a spilled ashtray. "I thought you'd figure it out. I just . . . I just didn't want anyone else to hear, y'know?"

He smiled. "You also know that Gil wouldn't mind."

"Yes, but it's-" he sighed. "I think it's something you'd understand most."

Link found himself leaning forward. "Oh?"

Oethar started brushing the horse in front of him, not quite meeting his eyes. "I'm worried about my parents, is all. I haven't heard anything from them for weeks. I don't know if the farm's flooded, or if Hateno was attacked, or . . ." He swallowed dryly. "Or if they're okay."

Link noticed how he avoided asking if they were alive instead; he didn't know how to feel about that. But he did know why Oethar was asking for his advice in the first place.

"I heard Malo Mart (I don't like that dumb baby) got some wool in a few days ago. How it was delivered now, I don't know, but it was from the Agricolas. Your parents are fine, Oethar."

The news hardly lifted his spirits. "Even so, we're all very vulnerable now. Like fish in a barrel, waiting to see if politics or monsters get us first. How can you say it so casually? You realize this kingdom could be ruined in a matter of days?"

Epona's ears flattened against her head, her muzzle dipping low. If there wasn't a partition and a horse separating the two, Oethar would wake up with serious dental problems.

Link shushed her, watching his friend cool down. From the way his eye twitched, he regretted what he said.

"Generations before us, Hyrule survived the Great Calamity. Other countries let it slide off the map, because no one wanted to claim a kingdom ridden with chaos. That's how humans vanished from our land, too; either coming into Hylian bloodlines or fleeing the border. Who would want to deal with this?" He stood up. "My point is, Hyrule is stronger than ever. We have powerful alliances, and the population is thriving. We're more suited to fight back than you think."

Oethar managed a small smile. "Thanks for the history lesson, Professor Fidelis. But really, thank you for your advice. I guess it was a little inconsiderate for me to ask, considering-"

Link waved him off as he opened the stall door. "I don't think about it too often. You're welcome, Oethar."

"Link?"

"Yes?"

"There's an apple by the door, if you want it."

Leo stayed up all night in a tree, trying to fix the coils in his net trap. It was hard to see through the downpour, and it was all for nothing. The supposed monsters they'd feared stood a football field's length away from the barrier, watching from a distance. The bravest (or most unamused) occasionally threw rocks, but all of them missed. He knew how they felt; he'd feel bored to tears in their place.

Nyssa finally dragged him out of the branches at midnight. "You had a concussion earlier, but you still got back in this tree. I'll handle it from here. Go get some rest."

Leo definitely heard her mumble hermano estupido under her breath, but he had bigger things to worry about. Namely how he didn't want to make his sister and her ripped physique angry.

He didn't want to rest, he wanted to make traps. And what better way than with the Stolls?

Travis should've been packing up for college; he'd be leaving in a few days. But now he was crouched down behind some shrubs. Connor was nowhere in sight.

"A snare? Really?" Leo asked. "That's not going to carry one of those big guys." He pointed in the distance to prove his point, where two luminescent dots hovered several feet from the ground.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," he grumbled (I headcanon that they speak in memes all the time). "I'd like this to be standing between me and a monster."

"I'd like a canon!" Connor shouted. Leo turned around, looking for him.

"What- AAAARGH!"

The large rock on his left stood up, swaying like fabric. It was fabric; a grey cloak. The younger Stoll grinned, the grey facepaint making his face more sinister. Connor, in all his doofus glory, had mastered the art of becoming a boulder.

"Ya like it? I plan on poking them in the butt when they pass by."

Travis rolled his eyes. "He's lighting fireworks when they start moving."

"I can't do that in the rain! And don't talk about the plan!"

The glowing eyes in the distance blinked. They didn't seem too interested in their plan.

Leo pulled a rubber band out of his tool pouch and promptly stretched and popped it. "That's all you've done?"

Connor pointed a Roman candle at his face; he wondered if it would hurt him or not. "Don't act like you're more successful than us! You haven't even finished one trap yet! Not. A. One." He tapped the end on Leo's shoulder to get his point across. (Why does this dialogue sound so weird-)

"And we do have another one set up! Just over-"

An explosion of noise erupted a few yards away, like a tree being ripped in half. Cattle bells echoed in the undergrowth.

Leo wanted to believe it was a prank, but the Stolls' reactions said otherwise. Connor gripped his shoulder, aiming the Roman candle at the noise. Travis's eyes were the size of dinner plates.

"That's the other trap," Leo whispered. It wasn't a question.

Travis replied with a wheezing exhale, like a dying breath.

All of them stared into the darkness, soaked with storm water. A new pair of eyes veered at them - a multicolored spiral, devoid of pupils. A flash of lightning illuminated it's form briefly, so he could see the gangly proportions. Seven feet tall with a hulking chest, emaciated waste, and dangling sock-puppet snout, it looked like a demonic Sesame Street reject. Above its eyes sprouted a long horn. It reminded Leo of Percy's minotaur prize in his cabin.

Beside him, Connor sucked in a breath. The demigod felt like a jump started engine when he shouted.

"CHEESE IT!" (I love this phrase so much.)

He didn't have to tell him twice. Some might find running through mud trifling, and it definitely was. Leo slipped over and over again. Travis nearly slammed into a tree. But it was worth getting away from the roaring beast behind them.

Hey, Leo thought, at least it's not a bunch of crazy nymphs.

The mental image of those bloodshot eyes and distinct capillaries kept him going.

Piper, who was pacing back and forth with her sword in hand, noticed them as they broke through the treeline. Her hair bristled when she noticed their expressions.

"Has-"

"POSITIONS!" Chiron commanded. Pollux stood next to him, quivering in his armor. The poor guy couldn't go a year without having to fight another battle.

Leo felt his shirt collar being grabbed. Piper's face was inches away from his, wearing a concerned yet angry expression.

"I need a favor," she stated. "Go find Mitchell and get in Cabin 10-" (Mitchell's one of the Aphrodite boys, btw.)

It was hard for her to tell him the rest, because an arrow sprouted from her shoulder.

Percy figured the battle would be easy. So what if he didn't know what he was fighting, or why they were here? (I was gonna make a Kane Chronicles reference here but it isn't that time yet.) He'd figure it out. They always figured it out.

But when the disgusting goo started wreaking havoc, one look at Annabeth told him that, no, this fight was not figured out.

Frank, previously terrorizing goblin-like creatures as a swarm of bees, squeaked by his side. "Are those teeth?"

Sure enough, a wall of goo smeared on a pine tree parted in the middle, revealing stubby pearly whites. The "lips" moved oddly, like it was an asthmatic that had just run a marathon.

"Maybe it's dying now," Percy guessed, but it sounded more like a question. None of them had ever seen anything like it before.

Instead of dying as they'd hoped, the mouth promptly vomited more black and pink sludge. The new blob slapped unceremoniously onto the forest floor. (Malice is not purple; I stand by that.)

"Oh gods-." Hazel doubled over on Arion's back. Even with her hand clamped over her mouth, the horse beneath her growled and shifted his bulk.

Do not throw up on me, he whinied.

It only got worse. While the mouth continued with its labored breathing, the blob started to rise and smoke. A skull with glowing eyes and a horned nose drifted from the ground. Chameleon eyes swiveled in all directions, studying the new surroundings. The lower jaw opened and closed with a sickening crack.

Annabeth cursed next to him. "I think it's trying to make more – look."

Again the mouth barfed, but the monster floated immediately. It was the same . . . whatever it was, and snapped at the air. The other twitched in agreement. Percy imagined the conversation going on between them:

Hey, I'm alive!

Same, dude. And look at these things in front of us.

We should eat them, dude.

Ditto.

The first floating head hissed; Percy readied his sword. Fortunately for him, an arrow swiped it out of the air first. The monster slammed into the ground, eyes lazily spinning in their sockets. Percy stabbed straight through its forehead.

Frank knocked another arrow. There was only enough time for the second monster to huff before the demigod gave it a fashionable septum piercing. This time, it dissolved in a puff of smoke.

He took aim again – this time pining for the mouth. The arrow bounced harmlessly off a tooth. The mouth only gargled in response.

"I don't think I'm putting a dent in that anytime soon," he mumbled, clearly disappointed. "Maybe there's another way to kill it?"

Percy tugged his girlfriend's sleeve. He knew that look in her eye. "Does someone have an idea?" he sang.

She snorted. "Maybe . . ." Annabeth's eyes searched the woods; she had some rain drops caught in her eyelashes, making her all the more beautiful. "Frank, can we leave you here alone?"

His expression fell a bit. "I should be okay. I have more than enough arrows."

"Thanks." She turned to Hazel. "I think I know what we need to do."

xxx

Ankle deep in mud, Percy groaned. "You can't observe the perimeter wearing sneakers."

Arion cantered haughtily. Imagine having more than one toe. (Look up "horse tennis shoes" and you won't be disappointed.)

"Imagine not going full speed right now," he countered.

The horse huffed.

Annabeth turned in front of them. "It's not that far. Just get around this tree and it's easy going. Hopefully."

"Yeah, this isn't so bad!" Hazel agreed, still perched on her mount. In the rain, her golden eyes glowed like lamplights.

Percy and Arion shared an exasperated glance. Of course it wasn't bad for the person that wasn't walking.

Then he froze. Lamplights? Hazel's eyes aren't that bright.

He peered into the trees on their right and flinched. Bobbing in the dark was a bright yellow light, peeking through pink cinders. What was that?

"Percy are you- Percy?"

Annabeth stopped again. Following his gaze, she gasped.

"What the-?"

"I'll go look," Hazel interrupted. Her and Arion left in a beige blur. That wasn't so bad, but the mud sprayed on Percy's shins was.

"These were good jeans," he mumbled sullenly. "They will be missed."

His girlfriend's hand settled on his shoulder. "What do you think we're looking at?" she whispered.

"More monster ooze, I'd say."

He could almost hear her smile. "No schist, Sherlock." Annabeth was quiet for a few moments. "Are you okay?"

Percy glanced at his arm. Rain drops slid down his skin, making some of his scars invisible. His shirt sleeve clung to his skin. Just like in Tartarus.

"A jacket would be nice, but I think I'll be alright. A cold would be fantastic right about now. Are you?"

"Hah! Not at all."

"We will be." He leaned closer to her face.

In annoying horse fashion, Arion and Hazel materialized in front of them. (Romance is so hard to do.)

The daughter of Pluto cleared her throat, trying not to be awkward. "I think I found the problem?" she squeaked. "There was this other mouth over there, and when I stabbed . . . this giant eye-thing, it died. We need to find another eye.

Annabeth's breath caught in her throat. "An eye? What was it, the size of a basketball?"

Hazel shivered. "It was barely smaller than me! And that pupil?" She hugged herself. "Just don't look straight at it."

Percy felt his gut twist into knots – and not in a hydrokinetic way. The idea of a single eye reminded him of Tyson, who was probably curled up asleep in New Rome right now. Or maybe he was having peanut butter for a midnight snack. Percy didn't know if he could bring himself to fight it.

Except, he didn't need to. Hazel and Annabeth were more than happy to rip a too-big-eye to pieces. Percy took comfort in that.

Annabeth poked his side. "Earth to Seaweed Brain – earth to Seaweed Brain. Are you paying attention?"

"Nope." He frowned. "What's up?"

She rolled her eyes, the corners of her lips tugging up slightly. "We're looking for another eye. Just as I thought, there's probably something around that tree." Annabeth pointed, her eyes glinting smugly. "Let's forge on!"

Hazel spurred Arion into a slow trot, leading them forward. Was it possible for midnight to get darker? Percy could only see either of them because of how light the horse's flank was and Annabeth's hair and shirt. He'd really be lost without them (which he was reluctant to say about Arion, as he hated his guts and vice versa).

The tree was in terrible shape when they arrived. Smoke hovered around the trunk like steam, sludge dribbling down the side. When they got close enough, the impression of a woman's face pressed against the exposed wood.

The nymph took a shaky breath. "Don't. Please," she whispered.

"It'll be okay," Hazel promised.

She melted into the wood with a quiet sniffle.

Annabeth glanced back at him, unsure. Percy felt the same way. Was the pine nymph even alive anymore?

Percy grabbed her hand and walked a little faster. The mud coating his feet was worth it.

He flinched when he heard the wispy snarl. He couldn't have predicted what happened, right? No, he should've.

A glowing head slammed into Hazel's shoulder, sending her flying off horseback; Arion escaped in a flash. Percy had barely enough time to reach for Riptide when something else shoved him into the mud. Annabeth's angry shout cut off with the splash of her hitting a puddle.

Rage boiled within him, squeezing his throat. A thousand words bubbled in his mind, none vial enough to describe how he felt. When he got his hands on those… those–

Slimy cords coiled around his wrists and ankles, dragging him through leaves and silt like a sack of potatoes. Percy fumbled for his pen in vain; gods, the ooze burned. If he didn't escape, they were all dead.

Shouting obscenities, three heroes disappeared into the depths of Long Island Sound.

Princess Zelda tapped the envelope in front of her. "Your cousin wanted you to have this, Link."

He'd hardly stepped over the threshold, yet he was at her desk a second later. He hummed in consideration.

"I'd best read this quickly, or she'll give me a boot-shaped scar oneday," he mumbled.

Zelda never met Malon in person, but she did know plenty from Link. While she was very nice, she wasn't a force to reckon with. She'd grown up feeding cuccos (the very embodiment of hell, those murderous foul) and taming stubborn horses. Once, when a boy had threatened her, she kicked his knee in. As toddlers, she practiced her wrestling on Link. She'd never actually hit him since, but he seemed apprehensive at the mention of her name.

Link paced back and forth as his eyes swept across the paper. One thumb looped in his belt, his fingers drummed his hip quietly. This and scratching the back of his neck were his most common nervous tics. Blinking more than necessary hardly made an appearance; only when he talked to the loud captain of the guard. Zelda understood that – as a little girl, she'd been terrified of his looming stature booming voice. The man's horribly styled mustache was what had both of them blinking away tears of laughter, though.

Link came to a halt in front of her. He fiddled with the edge of the paper uncomfortably.

The princess's heart must've been louder than the storm outside. "What's the matter?"

"Not quite?" he squeaked – had his voice ever been that high before? "Malon wants to know if I can escort some traders– Princess?"

Zelda frowned deeply. "How is a journey 'not quite' upsetting?" She leaned towards him. "There's nothing wrong with keeping someone safe, Link."

He cracked a nervous smile. "I-I know, Princess. I only feared that the other nobles would be more poisonous in my absence. How foolish of me; you carry a dagger in your boots everyday."

"I doubt it will come to that," she chirped. Little did he know, she didn't trust a dagger in her shoes. No, she preferred her weapon sheathed safely in her dress's pocket (I'm not one to wear dresses, but big pockets are always convenient.) When sitting in the throne room, her sword gleamed at her side.

"Where are you going?" Zelda asked.

"From Hateno to Lurelin, Princess."

She glanced out the window. Noon already? Zelda smiled sadly; even though she scoffed at his concern, Link had visited her everyday for two weeks. It would be odd without him.

"You should leave today."

Impa peeked through the support beams under her house, searching for her babysitter. Like she needed a babysitter. The greatest of all Sheikah at such a young age, she was more than capable of taking care of herself. Sure, she burned most of her cooking; she liked it that way. And calligraphy? Their kingdom was in peril, and Komori-san prioritized calligraphy. Did kanji send monsters running at the mention of your name? No. Why did she have to know the difference between tsuki, hi, and shiro? (Listening to too much Vocaloid is really paying off.)

Komori-san would certainly fear her after today. If Impa had to learn calligraphy, her babysitter needed to learn how to find her, first.

Last week, she made the mistake of crouching in a tree.

"You vile little thing!" Komori shouted, grabbing her sandal straps. "You will march right back to your room and write until midnight! This is why…!"

She might have stopped herself before she finished speaking, but Impa knew what it would be. She could play that game, too. Rubbing salt in wounds? Bring it. Impa was excellent at games.

Her name was called in the village; she ignored it. A tiny part of her felt guilt, or maybe fear. Impa crawled further under the house and lounged next to a cluster of mushrooms. Komori hated mushrooms. Smiling slyly, Impa barely poked one. If (or rather, when) Komori got the guts to climb under here, she was getting poked right in the face.

Slowly, getting louder, feet plunked against the wooden stairs. Impa tried to make herself smaller against another support beam. There's no way it was Komori. She wasn't that close.

Maybe I could go back, she thought unmoving. I'll still be in trouble, though.

A small puff of dust showered her; quiet footsteps explored the bottom floor. What were they–?

"Gah!" Impa gasped. Her candy stash – that must be it! Komori would ground her for a month!

She scrambled out from under the house and climbed up the handrails. She didn't know what was worse – someone stealing her food or eating all of it. Impa made alliances with the village cuccos with those. Losing them could mean war.

Impa kicked the door open. "I'm here (coming through the door, like a hero!)!" she shouted.

A tall, blonde hylian clad in green turned to her in confusion.

"Congrats?" he puzzled.

Shaking from the adrenaline rush, Impa walked carefully towards her cache. "What are you doing here?"

If Komori heard her talk like that to an adult, she'd eat green peppers for a week. But this was a stranger threatening her things, so she could do what she wanted.

He blinked. "I'm looking for the Chief, ma'am."

Impa's ears burned. "That's me."

". . . You're the Chief."

"Yes. What about it?"

If he had anything to say, he decided to leave it be. "There's monsters in the field outside the village. I thought you'd like to know before I leave, ma'am."

"Thanks," she mumbled, suddenly aware of how tiny she was. Impa had never fought anything but a sparring partner and a straw dummy. Her mother could fight monsters . . . She can fight monsters. She is not past tense.

The man bowed. "I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier, Chief. My name is Link Fidelis."

How fitting. "I'm Impa."

"And I'm grounding you."

Impa froze. Komori's timing couldn't have been worse. Sometimes she thought the woman did it on purpose.

Link sat up and smiled, but he didn't look cheerful at all. Terrified.

"Ah, Komori-san! I was just passing through. I'll be-"

Komori placed her hand on Impa's shoulder, her fingers a fleshy prison. "You forgot to take off your boots."

"I'm very sorry, ma'am."

She hummed in amusement. "Fortunately for you, I have someone here who's done something far worse. You are excused, Sir Fidelis."

"Thank you, ma'am."

As he passed the threshold, Impa swallowed dryly.

Rachel Dare tossed more kindling into the fireplace. She didn't really care if the flames died or how warm the room was. She only wanted something to do – other than spitting up green puffs and problems. Problems that stole demigods in the night.

Rachel was alone in the Big House, and she couldn't have felt more like a burden.

She pitched another log into the flames. She imagined it was that ugly tripod stool burning. Part of her felt tempted. Furniture shouldn't control her life.

"I'm going insane," Rachel muttered, unable to describe her tone. For good measure, she inched away from the fireplace.

"Same," a tired voice breathed.

Will Solace face planted into the couch, his flip flops hanging onto his feet for dear life. Even laboring in the infirmary for hours, he insisted on wearing the most unprofessional clothing while saving lives. There were no casualties because of him.

He kicked his feet; his footwear slapped against his heels. "They aren't anywhere, Rachel. I don't know where he is. Do you?"

She didn't like the hopefulness in his voice. "I'd be out there searching if I knew. I'm sorry, Will, but there's nothing. Whatever is happening, it's out of our control."

"I was afraid of that."

Rachel stood and walked to the nearest window. Light crept slowly onto Half-Blood Hill, kissing the treetops. She didn't like that – how dare the world ignore such a loss? Her comrades, some she knew better than others, were nowhere to be found. As Will shuffled into a more comfortable spot on the couch behind her, Rachel came to a dangerous conclusion.

There must be more about this prophecy. She'd find out what she needed to look for, even if it killed her.

Rain was bad for a riverside business, but sleet? Sleet put rain out of business.

Link shuddered in his bed; as soft as his blanket was, it could only do so much against the chill. He thought back to a different time, when cold wind passed through his young frame. He was hardly five then, and the winter chill was merciless to his shrimpy physique.

Dueling Peaks Stable had it worse, though. The river rushed over the twin bridges and pooled only a few yards away from their livestock. The stable master had a hulking bag stashed under his desk for when the flooding was too much to survive. That surely would happen; it was only a matter of time.

Something rigid prodded his back. Link pulled back his covers enough to see a ragged face hovering near him.

"Quilt?" the old man offered. He definitely would've said yes, but the man spread it over him before he could reply.

"Don't you need this, sir?" Link asked. "I can fair without it."

He waved him off. "Nonsense! My, you knights always act like armor can best the weather. Then you get a cold and act all surprised. And no, I'll be just fine without it. I've got some soup waiting for me."

With that, he hobbled away with a cane – a cane that had definitely seen better years. The wood would snap under a few more pounds.

He's getting a new one tomorrow, Link noted. Or the next day. Canes and walking sticks were best dry.

There wasn't much else to do in the chilly stable but listen. Someone sniffled every few seconds. Another produced a bellowing chorus of snores. After a few minutes, someone slurped their late dinner – presumably the old man, or maybe someone was eating sleet outside.

Link felt annoyed, and not much annoyed him. He couldn't be bothered by the noises or how his nose was so cold he could hardly feel it; he'd lived in the barracks. What he hated was that he couldn't find it in him to sleep.

He'd always enjoyed sleeping. Some people doubted he could be the hero with the way he slouched like a rubber tree and lazed about like a cat. Did they not expect him to be tired? Or hungry? A woman once raised her hand to slap him when she found him cooking. She'd gone so far as to scold him about how he'd get a gut, and no one would find him "heroic enough". So? A hero could save the world no matter how they looked – and their appearance could be an advantage, too. And he needed all the food he could get; he worked hours on end, so fatigued by the end of the day that sometimes his eyes couldn't focus.

Tomorrow would be a short journey to Hateno, where he could snuggle into a better inn's soft comforters before he brought a trading procession to Lurelin. It wouldn't snow in Lurelin Village. There was so much comfort in that thought, Link found himself drifting away.

Happy holidays! I might deliver late, but I still deliver. I hope you all have a wonderful year ahead of you, filled with more content in your beloved fandoms. And to those of you fanfiction writers that can hardly finish a paragraph, that's progress and it is very impressive.

(You might've noticed that the summary uses improper grammar. I swear I used the correct words when typing it up, but the system changed it. Just a small note.)