This took way too long to write for no good reason; I suddenly got that inspiration juice at 1:00 AM? Very responsible, dearest brain of mine.

Chapter 3: Why Worry?

BAE PULLED HER SHAWL TIGHTER AROUND her shoulders. Lurelin had never felt such a cold breeze before, and would doubtfully ever see it again. Bays bountiful with clean saltwater and fat fish sloshed against the shore slowly, as if they were exhausted. There wasn't a single gull on the horizon. No fish could be seen from the docks.

The small stone spire Bae sat on was a favorite spot of hers, but now it just felt lonely. The only beauties to see were the stars glittering on the water's surface. And you can't stock a food stall with stars.

Bae stretched her legs. If she didn't go to sleep now, she'd be too tired to check her traps in the morning.

Her feet had only just touched the beach when it happened; a blast of light, strong enough to send her flying. If it were in front of her, she'd be flat against her little rock spire. Instead, she skipped like a stone across the sand.

"What the hell?!" Bae coughed and dusted grain away from her eyes. She didn't know what it was, but she didn't want to find out too late. She scrambled to her feet, but before she could run, her eyes fell upon a scraggly figure face down in front of her.

What she noticed first was the mess of dark hair obscuring their face, and the puffy brown coat and thin trousers. She dared to get closer, searching for any sign of life. Their right hand was still, outstretched but relaxed. The other clutched a dark blade, like the royal guards'.

Bae prodded the stranger's side; they didn't move. She slowly turned them over, and almost flinched at what she saw. Shining in the moonlight, blood gushed from their torso. Their right cheek was puffy and red, like they'd been punched. A lock of hair fell away from their face; Bae gasped.

The stranger's ears were round.

Piper awoke in a mountain of stuffed animals and plush pillows. At first, she thought she was in one of her siblings' beds, perhaps Lacey's. But why not the infirmary? Piper was shot, and the world was dark after that. Will wouldn't just let her sister carry her away to Cabin 10.

She sat up in a strange room. The walls were sandstone, embedded with golden sconces. Jewelry was draped over the foot of her bed, which was also sculpted from sandstone. Trunks buckled closed with belts were stacked against the far side of the room. But all the shelves—and every flat surface, for that matter—were cluttered with plushies of every sort. Horses, cats, animals Piper couldn't even recognize. This just might be a child's bedroom.

The room was open, too. Tall windows curtained by thin silk with bejeweled hems swayed in a hot breeze. An even larger doorway was centered with her bed. And in that doorway stood a little girl.

She couldn't have been older than 6 by the look of her face, but she seemed a bit too tall. Her skin was dark and rich, her hair red as rubies and styled in bantu knots. Tiny gold droplets dangled from her pointed ears; her clothes were better suited for the heat than Piper's jeans and camp t-shirt. Her belt glittered with even more golden regalia.

The girl's face contorted into a wider, excited smile. "You're awake!" she chirped. She sprinted to Piper's side, looking up at her with lovely green eyes. "I knew you'd wake up! My name's Humayra—what's yours?"

She considered lying, but there wasn't much reason to. Humayra didn't seem like a vicious monster.

"I'm Piper. Humayra, where exactly are we?"

"Gerudo Town, of course! Let me show you."

Piper didn't have a choice; Humayra grabbed her arm and dragged her out in the open. She stopped at the short wall, slapping her hands on the thick sandstone. Her smile grew even wider.

"Every vai should know about Gerudo Town!" she chirped. Hamayra's face fell as she noticed her lost expression. "You've . . . never heard of it?"

Piper's eyes skimmed over the scene in front of her. A tiled plaza stretched out beneath the balcony; tall, red haired women with dark skin tones milled about in desert garb and gold and jewels flashing in the sunlight. Silk canopies drooped from walls, shading saleswomen and merchandise. Every wall served as a waterway on top, glittering with clear water and blue stone. Two aisles of palm trees lined a path from what she assumed was the entrance, like a mini Beverly Hills road. A beautiful sight, but an unfamiliar one all the same.

The charm-speaker couldn't help but gaze at Hamayra's foreign ears. Leo's were round in comparison. "I don't even know what country I'm in right now."

Hamayra's eyes narrowed in thought. "Mm . . . Mama might help. She's really cool! Come on."

Again, the little girl captured Piper's arm in a vice-like grip not becoming of a six-year-old. She led her down a sandstone staircase, nodding at a guard at the door. The woman's brow twitched in consideration. It was hard to understand her expression when half of her face was veiled, but caution rolled off her muscled form. Piper didn't want to make her angry.

She thought that's who she should fear, but that was before she saw Hamayra's mother.

Even sitting down, the woman was easily taller than everyone else Piper had seen. Her russet skin rippled with muscles and a patch work of scars; she could probably bench press the throne she sat upon, sculpted of solid sandstone. (I love the Gerudo, but I'm really getting tired of saying sandstone.) Gold and silk regalia fitting for a queen twinkled when she moved. Colors swirled in lovely patterns wherever there was room; a slitted skirt spilled from her belt. A blue sash was braided into her gold belt and dangling from her hip. A gold crown reached skyward on her head. (I'm also sick of describing gold, too.) Box braids in rings were piled onto her head.

A young woman, small and wearing what Piper recognized from old pictures of handmaidens, kneeled a few feet away from the woman. Hamayra stopped at the bottom of another staircase and put a finger to her lips. Ah, an important conversation.

"Chief Jayaka," she squeaked, "please consider what I'm saying. Should the weather be at its worst, we need sanctuary here. Won't the law be null and void in those events?"

"Gerudo Town's ancient laws cannot be violated. It doesn't matter the circumstances; no man will shelter behind my walls," Jayaka refuted. Her green eyes rolled over the handmaiden's form. "I know it wasn't the princess that sent you here. Zelda wouldn't dare propose these ideas. Who are you really?"

The girl flinched. Piper almost felt sorry for her, but something in her posture didn't bode well. "I-I was sent by Lord Barba, Chief Jayaka. He has many people under his influence. Our town is almost inescapable, there's so much water."

Jayaka hummed, like she didn't believe it either. "I thought it would be him. Jumping at the chance to infiltrate our home, hmm?"

The handmaiden didn't respond.

"I know plenty of how Barba treats women, young mistress. The women are more than welcome to stay here temporarily. But the men will have to make do outside. Kara Kara Bazaar might be able to help them."

"But he won't let us."

The chief smiled. "Then we'll just have to figure something out. Now go; the girls at the inn can ready a bed for you. Rest and leave in the morning."

The girl bowed and scurried down the red rug. She glanced at Piper as she passed, her expression inscrutable. But she didn't have the time to study her, as Jayaka called them forward.

"I see you're awake. I'm Chief Jayaka of the Gerudo. Come forth, young woman," she beckoned. Hamayra left Piper in a flash to crawl in her mother's lap.

Piper didn't see what else to do. She followed, but decided she wouldn't bow just yet. Jayaka seemed trustworthy so far. She just didn't want to take any chances.

"You are . . . odd. Different, I mean. Where are you from?" The chief's eyes shifted from her face to something close by—her ears, round and short.

"I don't really know how to explain it, but I don't know where I am, either. Have you ever heard of Oklahoma?" Piper asked.

Jayaka narrowed her eyes at the ceiling. "I'm afraid not. As for where you are, you're on the continent of Hyrule, in the wasteland prefecture. Home, for me. Do you know how you got here? Why were you injured when we found you?"

Piper suddenly remembered her shoulder. Her left sleeve had been ripped off, exposing a fine layer of gauze. How had she not noticed?"

"I . . . don't really know, Chief Jayaka. I hardly remember getting shot, either." She looked down at her dressings. "Was I alone?"

The chief blinked. "We found you in some ruins in the west. That's one of our outposts, you know. We would know if there were more." She studied Piper's face, the only sound in the room the rush of a fountain behind her. "You can tell me if you're on the run from someone, Lady . . . ?"

"Piper McLean," she said.

"Lady Mclean. If you're in any sort of trouble, the Gerudo will grant you sanctuary."

Piper shook her head, considering her options. She didn't know these women, but she didn't really know where she was either. Continent of Hyrule? Sounded more like something in a fantasy game than her earth. (If only.) Maybe . . . Well, this seemed like the best place to be for her. Not as bad as the Barbie guy she mentioned earlier. (Heh. Barbie.)

"I'd like to think I'm safe—for now, at least," Piper said. "But I will stay, Chief."

Jayaka nodded, then turned to one of the guards. "Send a messenger to Princess Zelda. I think she'll want to hear about this."

Piper's brow furrowed. "Who?"

Hazel padded around the beach one last time, watching the mounted goblins in the surf. They hadn't noticed her yet. But they would soon enough.

She woke up on an old pedestal of some sort an hour before, on a spiraling section of sand. Her ankles and wrists throbbed with burns, her clothes caked in dry mud and ripped. Arion didn't respond to her calls. Much to her dismay, she couldn't find a drachma in her pocket. All she had were the clothes on her back, her sword, a canteen of unicorn draught, and a tiny square of ambrosia that she ate as soon as she found it. Her wounds hurt a little less, but she needed better medicine soon.

Her sword point raked across the sand. The rapier was imperial gold, so it wouldn't dull that easily. For such a dangerous situation, the beach was gorgeous. Soft sand dotted with grass patches, the sound of saltwater slapping the shore. An early morning canvas stretched above her—orange and red and pale azure. Clouds fluffier than cotton balls dotted the sky. A steep red hill slanted in the distance. If she could get there, it would be a short climb to firm land.

The first bit of water was easy. It was cold, but it was shallow. Hazel was up to her waist in a gentle current. A thick layer of mud shed in a cloud around her. She suspected that farther out to see, the waves would smash her against rocks at the first chance.

Then a horn wailed.

Hazel sprinted across the sandbar, watching her enemy catch its bearings. The goblin's horse reared as it fired a crude bow. The demigod's head was under water just in time to see an arrow sail through in front of her.

She didn't like being underwater (see: drowning in oil several decades ago), but she suspected they couldn't follow. A little orange goblin hopped in the surf, triumphantly pumping its fist in the air.

The next strip of land was less populated, extended from the slope she needed to climb. It was steep; her boots nearly slipped several times. At the top, she found a cluster of old arches overgrown with flora. Smoke rose miles in the distance; a thin dirt road wound like a dry river bed over the grassy plains. Civilization. And maybe food, too.

Hazel looked down at her torn clothes and sword. Would anyone help her?

"Only one way to find out," the daughter of Pluto muttered. She buttoned up her jean jacket and started the journey.

Princess Zelda was holding on to every ounce of faith she had to the Goddess Hylia as she listened to Barba ramble. It was the only thing keeping her from jumping across the table. Her fingers itched for her knife.

Again, Zelda laced her fingers. She remembered her mother, Queen Machen, being a vicious knight, but also respected for her intelligence when forming alliances and treaties. If Barba acted like he would hurt her (she almost wished he would try), then he would be stabbed. But as much as he belittled her today, she would have to use her silver tongue instead.

Barba leaned over her desk much more than she would've liked. He was barely older than her; his father, the old noble of his village, also died recently. Instead of grieving and then caring for those under his care, he squandered money at every turn and had working women arrested. The princess was two more arrests away from putting him in the Hyrule Castle dungeon. For good.

Unfortunately, he had plenty of snotty friends in the castle. His trial would not be fair.

Princess Zelda motioned for silence, much like a conductor to her orchestra. "If your village is flooding as badly as you say, then I can ask for someone to escort you here. Maybe even some Zoras. Is that all you came for?"

She hoped so, but his thin mustache twitched. Goddesses, he looked like an ugly catfish.

"I've already sent a messenger to Gerudo Town. We should be able to stay there." He raised his head higher. Zelda did the same; she was far more regal than him.

"Chief Jayaka does not allow men in her town. She won't make an exception for you."

"We'll see." Barba traced the top of the chair he stood next to. Clearly, he was trying to say he wanted to sit, but the coward wasn't stupid enough to ask her directly. She didn't want him touching anything in her study. "There are quite a few Gerudo travelers that pass by Hyrule Garrison. She'd have to do something if they . . . disappeared."

It took every ounce of self control to not stab him with her fountain pen. "The Gerudo have a military force much stronger than your garrison. And who do you think provides you with knights? How many would stay with you if I called them back?"

His smug smile wavered. "But, the townspeople—"

"—are clearly not well under your care." Zelda glared pointedly at him. "Especially the women. Barba, I am this close to breaking into the town prison and personally bringing them here. And you don't want me to deal with things personally."

Barba's face was a mixture of surprise, anger, and displeasure. Of course he'd run off with his tail between his legs the moment she didn't let him walk all over her. And Zelda knew the real reason he was here; not to help his home, but to try and court her. Maybe even black mail her into it.

Good luck with that, she thought.

Zelda grabbed her fountain pen, just in case. "Is that all?"

He swallowed his pride. "Yes." (Excuse me?)

She cleared her throat.

"Yes, Princess Zelda."

"Good."

With a quiet snarl, Barba stomped out of the room. He paused when he saw the Gerudo woman at the door. Then he left with even more sourness than before.

The woman wore a towel over her shoulders, no doubt a gift from the maids. Her hair was soaked. The lipstick the Gerudo often treasured had washed off, leaving her lips and chin tinted green. Unfortunately, makeup made for the desert wasn't waterproof. (I hardly know anything about makeup, but it sure does sound annoying when it streams.)

"Crowned Princess Zelda," she greeted, holding a letter. "Chief Jayaka has urgent news."

Her heart sank. What did Barba already do?

Leo skipped to keep up with the rock man. "What do you mean, I shouldn't be able to survive?"

The big guy with the dumpling-shaped face turned (I've never wanted something so much as Goron manju). "Too hot! Normal people burn this high up the mountain. You must have a really powerful elixir, Goro!"

"Leo," he corrected. "My name is Leo."

"And I'm Peetu. Now, where'd you buy an elixir like that? I could be rich selling that stuff to tourists!"

He almost covered his ears. Man, this guy was loud. "I didn't drink any elixirs, man! I don't even know where I am!"

Peetu adjusted the pickaxe on his shoulder to point uphill. "You see that smoke, Leo-boy? That's from the crown of Death Mountain. You're in a danger spot of the world's most dangerous volcano."

Why did Leo have to stumble across this guy? He was a brute with no sense of humor, he sucked at explaining things, and he insisted that Leo used some kind of potion to stay alive up there. He needed Peetu to tell him something he didn't know. And he definitely knew he was on a volcano—lava didn't roll down hill on your average mountain. Could volcanic fumes hurt him? He wasn't eager to find out.

If Leo were anymore adventurous, he would have followed that giant lizard thing. But Peetu just had to scold him about breaking into mining spots and how "the Gorons' ore is no tourist attraction".

"I figured," he retorted. "How do I get out of here?"

Peetu's big eyes, blue as sapphires, blinked. His thick lips molded into a frown. "You don't know how you got to Death Mountain?"

"I just woke up here an hour ago, man."

"Hmm." He scratched his cream-white beard, furrowing that thick brow. "Strange . . . You can only walk here by the Bridge of Eldin, but you didn't use that bridge . . ." Peetu groaned like Festus when he was hungry. Leo almost summoned tabasco sauce out of his tool pouch. "And I thought I was going to mine this mountain baren today! Come with me, small Goro. I'll take you to my city."

Leo's heart thumped hopefully. "City?"

"Goron City! Gosh, what do parents teach their children these days? Not knowing about Goron City, center of metal-working and blacksmithing; the land of siblinghood—"

And Peetu rattled on like that as he stomped down the mountain path, Leo following in tow.

"Don't lean over him like that!"

"We're just making sure he's okay."

"Liar! You said you thought he was pretty."

"No, you said that!"

"GIRLS!"

"Sorry, Mama."

"I'm not."

"You too, son. Get out of the round-eared boy's face!"

"But—"

Jason listened to the whines of what sounded like several kids. He knew they were crowding over them—he could feel (and smell, unfortunately) hot breath on his face. He woke up a few minutes ago, but he didn't want to open his eyes in front of them. His pounding head couldn't take anymore excited squeals.

"Everyone, out of the Elder's nest. She'll be back soon."

"Great-gran won't mind! She likes us!"

"Amphorn, Alizee, Araceli, Anila—all four of you. OUT!" (Yeah, I really skimmed that baby naming website.)

A collection of groans filled the room, followed by the pitter-patter of tiny feet. For a few seconds, there was total silence. Then the mother spoke.

"I know you're awake. Sorry about them; there hasn't been much excitement lately."

Jason released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Above him was a wooden skeleton forming a hut; feather and gold finery lined the columns. Fur and wool blankets weighed him down. He regretted slipping his arm into the open air—it was freezing.

The teenager opened his mouth to thank the woman for her kindness, but a yelp escaped instead. He nearly flinched his blanket off.

She was a bird. And not the harpy kind.

Her eyes were amber slits crowded with eyelashes, fluffy feathers coating her angular face. Her beak was slim and conical, not unlike a snowbird's, and caramel hair bounced just short of her chin. The woman's torso was too long for her body, legs puffy and too short. Her arms were a mix of human and avian. Were those fingers or feathers? Jason didn't know.

The corners of her beak pulled up—gods, she could smile? "Never seen a Rito before, hm? Well, I've never seen a Hylian with round ears, so I guess we're even." Her pronunciation was a little off. It must have been hard to speak without lips.

Jason pointed at himself. "A Hylian?"

"Isn't that what you are, dear?"

"I've never heard of it."

Her smile faltered. "Oh, no matter. I'm Vetra, and you are . . .?"

"Jason Grace."

"Jason, I suggest you get up and get dressed before my kids find out you're awake. You only have so much time."

Only then did he notice the neatly folded clothes at the foot of his bed, probably as thick as his blankets. He grabbed them delicately, surprised by how soft they were. "Thank you, ma'am."

Vetra tipped her head to one side with an unsaid question, then contented not to ask. As she walked away, she muttered to herself: "'Ma'am'? I don't think I've heard that honorific before . . ." (I am not proud of how long it took me to figure out ma'am is short for madam.)

Jason stretched out of bed, pulling curtains over the hut's gaps. The bed he was sleeping on was clearly portable; it didn't fit the rest of the room's decor, or the hammock already hanging. A quaint little shelf stood at the far wall, an odd box with leather straps and golden buttons placed on top. Above was a small balcony, too high for him to reach. (I can't tell you how hard I tried to reach those balconies without Revali's Gale.)

He tugged at the several belts Vetra gave him. His new outfit had several layers, including what felt and looked like a corset. It felt like the only thing holding his clothes together.

Speaking of Vetra, a beige wing poked through a curtain. "Are you presentable?"

"Yeah, just putting on my boots."

Vetra stepped in cautiously, holding a long box. "You were holding this when we found you. Our champion isn't very keen on returning it, but my grandma calls the shots around here, so . . ."

Jason squinted at the box. "My sword?"

She nodded. "We found you over—Can you pull back that curtain? Thanks." Vetra pointed her wing to a strip of snowy land overlooking a cliff. Water churned below. "We found you over there, near our training grounds. Us Rito take pride in our archery before all other things, you know. That training ground has been used by several generations of Rito warriors and champions. You're lucky our current one was on her way there. You were blue when you arrived." (I swear I remember finding a sign in Tabantha bragging about what good singers and archers they are, but I can't find it.)

Jason blinked. If he wasn't putting his boots on, he would've checked his toes. But just to be sure . . .

Vetra snorted at him patting his face. "Your nose is still there, Jason. Now—" She held the box out to him, unsureness in her voice. "Arm yourself. The elder is waiting downstairs."

Reyna stared into the water, thinking of what to do next. San Juan didn't hold a candle to this desert heat—oh, what she wouldn't do for shaved ice. She tried sending an IM a few minutes ago, to no avail. Her denarius blinked at her under the cool oasis.

Travelers and merchants alike did a double take every time they saw her. One such saleswoman watched her cautiously, like she might try to steal the steaming steaks at her stall. Reyna felt sick to her stomach when she thought of eating something hot. No, her eyes were on the fruit stall. But then came the practical problem of stealing from people she might need to befriend . . .

She grinded her teeth. Great; she survived stumbling through the raging desert heat. Now she could live long enough to starve to death. That is, if her armor didn't bake her like a potato first.

"Young miss?"

Reyna turned, flinching when sunlight stabbed her eyes. In front of her stood a petite woman with a veil and long, fiery ponytail falling to her waist. In her hands was a huge slice of fruit.

The woman offered the slice to her. "Care to make a trade?"

Reyna tried not to look hungry. "What do you want?"

She rocked on her pointy shoes. "Well . . . that shoulder armor looks like it could sell for a good price. How about one for this?"

"For a melon slice?"

"It's your life."

Before Reyna could agonize over giving her things away, a muscular woman in her own armor jabbed a spear between the two. Her sharp eyeliner made her glare all the more piercing.

"Muhtal," the guard growled. "What have I said about talking to tourists?"

She shrugged. "Don't make bad deals, stop pickpocketing, blah blah. Really, Harba, why can't you just look the other way for once in your life? For an old friend's sake?"

Harba did not look amused. She grabbed Muhtal by her collar and lifted her like a drowned kitten.

"Give the woman her hydromelon," she commanded, giving her a good shake. Rings and necklaces spilled out of her pockets with joyful twinkles.

Muhtal's smug smile disappeared. "But I didn't—"

"You stole it and touched it, so it can't be sold anymore." Harba shook her again. "Just hand it over."

With a pout, the thief offered the slice to Reyna. The praetor took it gingerly in her hands—she couldn't afford to drop it. She was too hungry.

Harba dragged her catch away with a satisfied hum, but they looked less like criminal and law enforcement and more like a mother dragging her toddler out of a grocery store. Muhtal's pouty lip and crossed arms saved her no dignity.

Reyna dropped the melon slice in her lap and frantically clawed at the jewelry left in the sand. It was stolen, no doubt about that, but it might get her a few more meals until she figured things out.

She took a cautious bite, too indulged to mind the juice dribbling down her chin. Reyna would have to think about that later. Right now, she needed to focus on keeping her belly full.

Link figured that Lurelin Village would be abuzz with snores in the dark early morning. Instead, a fisherman jogged to their carts as soon as he spotted them, harpoon still in hand.

"The inn! Quickly!" he shouted, rainwater streaming into his eyes. "He might not have much time, Hero!"

The hero in question froze, surprised and off guard. Venat and the other traders' eyes were glued to him in shock. But Epona sprang into action before he could. His mare galloped away from the trading carts like they were on fire.

Almost all the townspeople were gathered at the front door; children trying to peek past legs, elders, fisherman that would've been checking their nets and traps this time of morning. Even the resident gambler woke up early enough to survey . . . whatever was going on. But he probably wanted to make bets out of the situation.

"Excuse me, coming through," Link said, trying to slink through the crowd. The innkeeper's hand crowned over the village people, beckoning him inside. Everyone parted reluctantly, then went back to trying to pry. (I've probably only ever been in that inn twice.)

The innkeeper flexed her hands, like she just punched someone. "Goddesses, since when have they been so nosy? I know life can get bland here but damn." (It always feels weird to write curse words.)

Link glanced at the front door. "What's wrong?"

She pointed behind her, where a straw partition was set up. He didn't miss the way her brow furrowed. "We have a patient in need of a special elixir. You remember that time when you woke up old man Vye (Vye literally means old lol) when he was sick? We might need you to do that again."

He sucked in a breath. Oh no.

It was probably his most embarrassing story as the Hero of Hyrule, and one he certainly wasn't proud of. Malon would command her strongest steed to stomp him if she knew.

Last year, the town elder suddenly collapsed with a bad cough and fever. He was almost ninety, and things weren't looking up. Link just so happened to be visiting when everyone dragged him to Vye's home and begged him for help. Not even their best physician could do anything for him. So, Link used his "special gift" the other soldiers gave him when he was knighted: Din's Fire Whiskey. He didn't know what else to do, and it's not like Vye had any other options! Link didn't like alcohol anyway; he finally found a use for it.

To the townspeople, he was a savior that could concoct life saving elixirs. To Link, he was the idiot that put hair on a poor old man's chest. He didn't even know how it did anything for him. He once heard that whiskey was a decongestant, but he felt like he was gambling with the man's life. (I wonder what mental gymnastics gave him that solution. "Oh no, this guy's comatose, maybe he needs some fireball.")

Then Link saw the man they were worried about, and he decided he was far too young to receive the "special elixir".

He was a teenager, but years younger than him. His hair was black and a little outgrown, framing his scarred, colorless face. A blanket was pulled up to his shoulders, making him look even more like a corpse. A small bandage was stuck to his cheek, but Link doubted that was his only injury.

The village physician looked up, crouched at his side. Bae was several years older than him, and a mother of two little boys. Link never saw her without her hair pinned in a bun or wearing an apron that most villagers used when gutting fish. In all fairness, Link almost never saw her if she wasn't helping someone. It was like she blinked out of existence until someone needed help.

In her hands sloshed half a bottle of red potion. By the redness of her patient's lips and her sullied expression, it hadn't done its job.

"I don't recognize him," Link announced.

"I don't think anyone could if they wanted to, Fidelis. Look."

She lifted a lock of ebony hair, and Link felt his throat squeeze.

Round ears.

Humans disappeared from Hyrule ages ago, swept away by disaster or trade. Labrynna and Holodrum were ruled by round-eared fellows, but Hyrule was the only exception. Link only saw humans in castle town, bringing messages or commerce. He couldn't remember the last one he saw living here.

Link didn't realize he was reaching for it until he touched his own left ear, though why he didn't know. It was still there, lobe pierced, and pointy as ever. Not round.

"Where did you find him, Bae?" he asked, kneeling across from her. The boy's breath was faint and uneven, like the last flutters of an old bird.

The woman's eyes, green as sea glass, searched her patient's face, as if she were willing him to awaken. He remained still. "A few hours ago. You know that little outcropping of rock by the beach, where the kids like to look for crabs? He suddenly just . . . appeared there. I almost had a heart attack!"

Her gaze dropped from his features. "The boy hasn't responded well to treatment. I stitched up his wounds. But—" Bae brushed the back of her hand on his forehead, "—his fever just won't break. The medicine I have does nothing."

Link gently pressed his hand to the boy's shoulder, almost flinching at the heat. "Is there any ice?"

"Fresh out of it, I'm afraid." Bae sighed in frustration. "I just wish we could do more."

"Mama?" a tiny voice squeaked. A tiny hand started to pull back the partition, only for Bae to grab it just as fast.

Bae glanced at Link nervously, then disappeared behind the foldable wall, speaking gently to her son. When she returned, she held tattered but for the most part mended clothing.

"Can I look at those?"

The physician blinked. "Ah, knock yourself out. I'll warn you, though—I've never seen clothes like these."

Link stretched the leather coat out, and it had definitely been . . . loved throughout its years. Several different shades of thread stitched cuts and holes, and burns like freckles marred the arms and chest. The fluffy collar and hem were coarse in some places and soft as a kitten in others. The fabric interior, much darker than the outside, was tinted red in some odd spots. Blood that refused to unstain.

Next came the shirt. Shirts like these were rare; they didn't do well against the elements, and they didn't look nearly as good as a finely-dyed tunic. (That Nintendo Switch shirt is REALLY messing with my sense of lore.) This one was pitch black and emblazoned with a skull, and just as . . . loved . . . as its coat counterpart.

Link furrowed his brow at the garb. He didn't recognize the style—and was that a zipper? He couldn't remember the last time he saw a zipper on clothes. But another question nagged at his mind . . .

"Was he not wearing any pants?" Link glared suspiciously at the lower half under the blanket.

"Goddesses, no!" Bae pulled the bottom of the blanket back, showing off the boy's blue trousers. "He didn't have any wounds on his legs, and he didn't bleed to there, so we just let them be."

Another question floated and popped like a bubble on the surface of his thoughts, but he didn't bother to ask. He had only noticed it briefly, but propped against the far wall was a sword even darker than the boy's hair. With all those scars, Link didn't doubt his occupation. This boy was a warrior. Any warrior worth their salt carried something to heal themself.

He wordlessly riffled through the boy's pockets; to his relief, he found an oddly clear bag with a bar in it. It gave him bad memories of Akkala, where a man convinced him to eat an energizing bar on the condition that he didn't look at it. How pathetic and gullible he was then, not realizing he was eating a frog. (Age of Calamity, you didn't have to tell me. I could've lived my whole life not knowing, but nooo.)

Bae flinched. "That was not there earlier! It could be poisoned." She leaned away. "Just use your special elixir on him. That'll work."

Link almost squealed. "That's only a last resort. And it wasn't there before, right? It must be a gift from the goddesses!"

She narrowed her eyes, but took it. If they had more time, she might have resisted. Link was only called to medical emergencies when there was little wiggle room. Bae was definitely the best doctor he ever had the honor of knowing (Sheikah resurrection did not count), but in most cases the results were up to her and the patient's body. Mostly.

Her eyes widened as soon as she touched the bar directly. "I'm not usually up to feeding unconscious patients solid food, but . . ." Bae held the bar to the light. "There is something about this that makes me confident. This boy will live."

He couldn't help but feel his heartbeat spike as she wondered over the snack. Again, he was making a guess about a patient's health. Unlike old man Vye, they were on a serious time crunch when it came to this boy's life.

Link propped him up as she mashed the food between her hands. He better be right.

Annabeth felt a little guilty when it came to the stable owners. The clerk was probably breathing in the humid air, anxious for an approaching storm, when a strange creature missing one boot limped out of the wetlands.

One tourist spit out his smoking pipe and ran into the woods. The stable girl jumped into a stall with a mule. A mother dragged her little boy inside, still yipping at her sudden appearance.

It wasn't Annabeth's fault that she was dragged through the forest floor last night, then woke up in a tree above a herd of some very vengeful horses. She couldn't blame them, though; she looked and absolutely smelled like an Eldritch horror.

The clerk squeaked when she reached the desk. His quill rolled into the dirt.

Annabeth picked it up and returned it to its holder, far scummier than it was before she touched it. "Can you tell me where I am?"

"Blergh," he replied helpfully.

A chubbier, older man grabbed him by the back of his shirt and yanked him to the other side of the stall. "Goddesses above, Eustace— HI, you say you're asking for directions? Well, you happen to be in the ver-y BEST stable IN. THE. BUSINESS. Can I get a cheer for WETLAND STABLE?!"

Other than a donkey braying and Eustace's death rattle, no one bothered to clap. Part of Annabeth wanted to run, but she doubted there was any other civilization for miles. (You literally spawned right next to Kakariko.)

The old man grumbled something about his coworkers, though his caffeinated smile never disappeared. "Say, you look like a new customer. I can't remember the last time we saw anyone but a regular. What brings you here?"

She sucked in an apprehensive breath, only to inhale a glob of mud. Gross, but she'd live. "Oh, I'm from out of the country. I stomp from place to place, your typical adventurer's agenda. But I don't seem to know what country I'm in anymore."

He smiled. "I remember my days like that; just couldn't say no to helpin' horses though."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm amazed you haven't found anyone to ask yet." He pointed into the distance. "You're in the Kingdom of Hyrule, adventurer. One of, if not THE, closest stables to the Royal Castle, no less."

Beyond the wooden bridge and scarce trees loomed a vast estate of stone spires, shaded in the murk of approaching storm clouds. And it was gorgeous. Annabeth would've already been running if she was one boot richer.

Richer . . .

Annabeth searched the old man's eyes. He did say something about being a rambunctious hero in his early years, and the circle of beds behind him looked so soft, and dry, and strangers to mud.

"One adventurer to another," she started, leaning closer for extra effect, "I wasn't able to convert my money before. Where could I find a bank?"

"Castle Town, of course! It's right at the foot of the castle." He looked her up and down, disgust finally drooping his features. "Eh . . . Honestly, they wouldn't let you in as you are. Those city folk can be awfully . . . pretentious. What if I hand you over to my niece for the rest of the day? We can have you up and ready for the bank by tomorrow as the sun rises, no charge!"

Jackpot. "Thank you so much! You are so kind!"

"Don't mention it!"

End of Chapter 3

I think I went wrong when I stopped writing for myself . . . yeah. Getting overly conscious about your hobbies is never going to let you keep your hobbies. I just can't wait until I can wrap up at least one of my crossovers and be proud of the end result. Cringing, but proud nonetheless.