This story is rated T for violence and blood, language, drug reference, and a few dark themes such as non-graphic abuse, self-harm, and assault mentioned later on- none are described in detail, only implied and referenced.
This does start out a bit rough, but the writing gets marginally better the longer it goes on.
A hot, stifling wind forced its way across the vast junkyard. It pushed around smaller pieces of metal and made its way around the larger chunks. A lizard huddled under some of the twisted metal, burrowing deeper, looking for shelter. It ventured inches, feet, yards down, seeking asylum from the wind. Perhaps ten feet down, it hit rock. It scurried back up just a bit and hit something else other than rock or rusted and twisted metal. It was smooth and comparable to human skin.
The lizard clung onto it and crawled up. Whatever it was, it twitched. The little animal crawled over parts where the smooth covering had holes, exposing the metal from inside. It crawled up, and found a larger hole, like an opening, the covering attached to the rest by unseen hinges. It crawled in, wedging itself between two shaped parts, and remained where it was.
The structure twitched again. Toes curled, fingers bent, and a shaky breath escaped a mouth. The robot shuddered. Inaudible, invisible messages flooded into the robot's mind, pushing away the questions of why it's awake, why it's breathing, why it has a mind. Instead, messages about sustained damage, low power, failing systems, and a 'chest cavity' being open were the priority. It started registering the heat, the cramped space around it, and its eyes opened, casting a faint blue glow on the nearby metal.
Legs bent and kicked out; arms shifted while fingers pushed away small scraps. The head turned and looked around. It was trapped and needed to get out. It reached up and started dragging itself up, pushing and displacing the junk it climbed past. It dragged itself up, an odd instinct of survival worming its way into its mind, the main motivation for his inner machinations to keep functioning. It climbed up, inch by inch, hour by hour, at a painfully slow pace- at least from the perspective of a human. The robot remained patient.
Finally, its hand broke the surface, the oppressive, scorching heat reaching the skeletal inner structure. The little organism in the robot's chest cavity squirmed but remained in its place. It pulled itself out of the metal, wheezing and running out of power. It got to its feet on the hot metal, and idly shut its chest cavity. Its vision was blurry, a constant ringing in its ears. Despite the disorientation, it knew that it was in a world that had the name of Hyrule.
The damaged robot wandered through the dim wasteland, dragging its feet on the metal and sand. It didn't feel pain, but it felt the heat of the air and wind. It panted- the intake of air helping power its circuits to keep it moving. Its optic structure was damaged, making it hard to see anything through the static. The audio structure was pretty much destroyed, and nothing but faint humming rang in the robot's ruined ears. Arms swung at its side, useless and broken from pushing away debris, and it was only a matter of time before its legs broke down as well. Its chest cavity was shut but loose, and most likely filled with sand, and half of its face had the synthetic covering stripped off, the other side scratched, but not beyond help.
Help. It needed to find help. He. Something in the back of the robot's mind reminded himself that he was male. Where was he? When was he? Nothing resided in his memory logs except the past few minutes of walking and the hours of climbing. Everything before that either didn't exist or was erased. But he needed to find help. Another thing in the back of his mind poked at him. His head twitched to the side. Whatever that thought was, it felt like an itch. As he peered through the static, something in the back of his mind pondered where the kingdom was before it went silent.
His hand twitched. The twitching became a shake, and the robot was suddenly trembling all over. He forced himself to stop walking. It didn't feel like a malfunction- he was just shaking and shivering violently. Finally, it stopped. He drew himself up straighter, peering around, trying to get a good view of the land before his vision stopped. Suddenly, all of his joints locked up, forcing him to stand rigid and straight. The joints loosened, and he fell onto the jagged ground.
Breaths came in faster and shallower. Emotion welled up inside- emotion? He was a robot, he doubted he was supposed to feel emotion. Either way, fear dominated his thoughts. He was going to be lost, buried and burned by this hot wind. And he lay there for what felt like hours, pondering his fate. The wind eventually died down, but he hardly noticed, his tactile senses all but failing. He was laying on his side, the world fading around him. Hylia help him, he was going to be buried again.
His vision stopped working soon enough, and all he could do was listen to the occasional creak of junk and metal around him. His breathing was shallow, and his tactile senses failed before long. He shuddered. He only had his audio senses left. He was alone- no. Footsteps. There were footsteps in the distance, coming closer. Low voices, the fluttering of cloth in the wind. A Hylian, most likely.
The footsteps inched closer and closer. They were approaching him. The footsteps stopped a few feet from him. At that point, his hearing was almost nothing but static, but the footsteps were still audible. Now, the Hylian talked again, a voice responding. Their exchange went on for a few minutes, and the footsteps reached the robot's side.
With his tactile senses still barely hanging on, the robot was dimly aware of hands wrapping around his waist, turning him over. The Hylian then scooped him up into their arms, holding him against their chest. His audio senses failed just as the Hylian turned and walked back from where they came from, and the robot knew it was, hopefully, going to be repaired.
His head rested against the Hylian's chest- he could feel the heartbeat. The rhythmic, constant pulse was the only thing he could focus on. He was faintly aware of a similar beat in his own chest, a simulated heartbeat in the chest of a robot. His creator must have wanted him to function as humanlike as possible. The Hylian's heartbeat speed fluctuated as they walked. The robot focused on it until his final sense died out, and he was left floating in utter darkness before his power finally ran out.