Guess who's finally plotting the fic out? Yeah I probably should've done that from the beginning. I still haven't finished scripting chapter one, but I'm impressed with it so far! Now comes the drawing part. . . . Er, the webcomic will be on Tumblr and Webtoon respectively, but I don't have anything published yet. Happy reading!

Chapter 5: Hiccup in the Road

"Oh, you poor thing!" the elderly woman fussed. She spat her pipe out of her mouth, tearing off of her stool as she waved her skirts about her. "Sit down, dear! I'll be right back!"

She didn't have to tell Hazel twice. The demigod plopped down as she was told and watched the woman scurry past the gate. She surveyed the rainy village while she waited for . . . well, whatever the old woman was doing. Helping, she hoped.

Hazel had stumbled along the thin strip of rock hanging above a lake to what might have been a quaint village a few decades ago, but it was too overcrowded to be comfortably domestic anymore. Houses were stacked in a ring around a rustic fountain, with the tallest such home being five stories from the ground. Children leaned over their windowsills to water tiny flowers and vegetable gardens, and salesmen—was that a giant bird?—swept their arms over simple items. Most of them did, anyway; one shopkeeper, who looked like a boulder and a bean bag chair had a pro wrestling baby, stood behind a table laden with raw ore. Hazel's fingers itched at the sight of it, but her days of attracting precious metals were over. Er, unintentionally, that is.

The old woman returned a few minutes later, holding a steaming mug. "Here, drink this quickly! Akkala always has a chill, dear."

"Thank you, ma'am." Hazel didn't realize how thirsty she was until she was staring at the bottom of the cup. Was it tea? She didn't remember.

She handed the mug back to the woman. "Thanks again, ma'am."

"Don't mention it, dear, Tarrey Town is always willing to help. I'm Mrs. Madysson, but you can call me—OH DEAR!"

Mrs. Madysson grabbed Hazel's hand, turning it over quickly. Hazel winced as her fingers brushed her burns. "I—Oh, come with me, please!"

She wondered how many times Mrs. Madysson could gasp as she led her around the townspeople and pattered along several flights of stairs. It was nothing to Hazel—Camp Jupiter is a firm believer in taking the stairs—but her guide was sweating and puffing after just one story.

"Ma'am, let me help you," Hazel begged, but Mrs. Madysson only smiled sweatily at her. (When I say sweatily I mean sweatily.)

"No need to worry about me, dear! I make this climb every day!"

She continued wheezing until she urged her inside a fourth-floor apartment. Mrs. Madysson's front door went straight to her kitchenette, which she decorated with—oh, gods—bugs. Every wall and cranny was crowded with bug decor: cork boards with butterflies, pictures of beetles eating leaves, and cobwebs in the corners—actually, that might not be decor. If she ever saw Annabeth again, Hazel made a note to never bring her here.

Mrs. Madysson slipped Hazel's jacket off. "Goddesses, you're soaked! I'll have to get you some clothes. Make yourself comfortable in the meantime, dear." She disappeared behind a side wall, leaving Hazel to lean her spatha by the door.

Hazel could not get comfortable with so many beady eyes watching her (she'd never been one to sympathize with bugs, but gods), so she slipped her boots and socks off to roam around the room. Her mind wandered with her—where was Annabeth? Where were the rest of her friends? Where was Frank? And what was this place, anyway?

Hazel pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to think of the night before. Other than being dragged in the dark for a few minutes, nothing else came back to her.

"Schisty monsters," she cursed. Then she continued strolling.

Near Mrs. Madysson's stove, which was simmering something smelless, was a tiny picture of her and a boy about Hazel's age. They were definitely related—the same long, blushing nose, the same freckles. They even shared similar bowl cuts, which Leo would definitely get a kick out of.

"That's my grandson."

Hazel nearly jumped out of her soaked jeans. Gods, Mrs. Madysson was silent when she wanted to be.

"Oh, I didn't mean to startle you, dear! I'm much quieter than I think sometimes!" She gave a ragged, smokers laugh as she handed Hazel a small pile of clothes. "Well, I'm afraid only his clothes will fit you, but I can have yours dried, er . . ." She squinted at the rain rattling the windows. ". . . at some point, I guess."

"It's fine," Hazel assured her. "Has it been like this for a while?"

"More than a while, dear. We've been slimy as fish for three weeks now!" Mrs. Madysson turned her worried face to the door. "Oh, I hope my little Beetle is doing well. I can't imagine riding that rickety bike through this."

Hazel adjusted the clothes in her arms. "'Little Beetle?'"

Mrs. Madysson nodded to the photo. "My grandson. His grandfather hated the name, but I thought it was rather cute! Anyway, he's been working on the road for the past year. I told that boy that we didn't need any more money, but he insists that it's for something else! Probably that girl he's been talking about . . ."

Hazel tried her best to inch out of the room as politely as possible. "Girl?"

"Yes, a girl! A beautiful girl, as he says, but he refuses to let me meet her! Why must he keep his poor, old grandmother away? I'm not awful, am I? I make him plenty of wonderful surprises, you see?"

She lifted the pot off the stove and showed it to Hazel, who nearly threw up.

It was moths—moths from outside, spread over paper and steamed. Mrs. Madysson must've noticed her horror, for she laughed and said, "These aren't for eating, my dear. You just need to let them sit for a while before you pin them. But can you imagine?" She chuckled some more, Hazel along with her. Then she fled into the other room to get changed.

The clothes weren't awful, exactly, but Hazel had about enough of bugs for the rest of her life. There was a simple tunic with little butterflies and beetles embroidered on the hem, sleeves, and collar, and a pocketed vest laden with metal pins and patches of (surprise!) even more bugs to match. The trousers were a little long, but were otherwise fine—and devoid of insects, to her relief.

Mrs. Madysson was at the table when she returned picking through a wooden beauty box. As Hazel approached, however, she realized that it was a first aid kit instead.

"We can't let those burns go unwatched, my dear," she insisted. Normally, Hazel wouldn't be so happy being doctored, but Mrs. Madysson had proved herself trustworthy so far. She plopped down beside her as the old woman brandished a small pot of balm.

"So," Mrs. Madysson began as she gently dabbed some onto Hazel's wrist, "what happened, dear? I haven't seen you passing through Tarrey Town before."

Hazel grimaced; she could feel the balm numbing her wounds, but they prickled in the meantime. "Never been, ma'am. I—Well, it's a long story."

"We have plenty of time," she clucked.

"If you insist, ma'am. Anyway, my boat crashed in the bay, and I was making my way to the shore when I saw smoke from this little town. It was hard to track it when it started raining, but," she gestured around her, "thankfully, I made it."

Hazel avoided the old woman's eyes as she spoke; lying to her felt wrong, but she had little other options. How else was she supposed to explain it, anyway? Oh, I almost died last night and woke up on the beach might be a normal scenario for a demigod, but she suspected that it wasn't . . . wherever she was.

Mrs. Madysson began wrapping her wrist. "And a blessing it is, dear. You said you had a boat? Poor dear, did you shipwreck?"

"Y-yeah, there was this storm, and my, uh, crew—." Hazel paused. "Wait, how did you know?

She chuckled. "Well, it's not everyday you meet a human. Akkala might be a coastal province, but we hardly ever see traders by boat."

She felt the blood drain from her face. "You're not human?"

"Of course not." Mrs. Madysson pulled back a length of her hair. "Tarrey Town might be diverse, but I've never seen a human here before! What was your name again, dear?"

Hazel stared for what felt like a thousand years. Mrs. Madysson's ears were pointed; long and pale and pointy and shriveled with age. She didn't mean to look horrified, but they were the last straw for her. Even with the birdman and rock-guy outside, it was her pointed ears that really got her.

"Hazel Levesque," she managed, not bothering to smile, "and I think I'm very, very far from home."

Nico didn't know why he was at Camp Half-Blood, only that he wanted to be there. He never thought he would say it, but he would give anything to be half dead in the infirmary.

He already knew he wasn't there; he had searched the beds and rooms twice over for his face, only to come up empty handed. He circled back to Kayla's bedside to listen in on her conversation with Austin. Earlier, he tried to shake her—"Where's Will, where's Will?"—only for his hands to pass through her like pyre smoke. For a moment, he thought he had shadow traveled too far again, but Kayla was all smiles; he liked to think that she wouldn't giggle if her brother's boyfriend was dead. Though, she was giggling with her hands—her archer's hands—bleeding through thick wrappings.

"I don't know how you're so cheerful," Austin said, though he was smiling just the same. Did any of the Apollo kids understand the word gravity?

"Oh, please. Harley's ripped Paolo's arms how many times now? And look at him, still buff as ever."

Paolo was in a bed across the room, staring dead-eyed at nothing in particular. Beside him was a man with golden blond hair tied in a pathetic excuse for a ponytail. His get-up was odd: a scrub tunic, cargo shorts, and flip flops. In any other hospital he would be turned away by every patient, but nobody at Camp Half-Blood ever cared about Will's uniform.

Nico was across the room in seconds.

"We're lucky your burns aren't too severe," Will told Paolo. "Isn't this a nice change? Usually, I'd be reattaching your arms right now!"

That warranted a reaction: Paolo's eyes flickered to him, glowering below his brow. The son of Hebe was never scary, though—even with all of his muscles.

"Hey, Will! Get over here!" Kayla called.

Will spared one last snicker for Paolo's glare. "Looks like Kayla's saving me from your wrath. Sorry about everything, buddy."

His gaze did not soften.

Nico drifted after Will, trying desperately to get closer. His dream did not cooperate; this was as close as the two would be for . . . who knows how long. He tried to reach for him, but, again, his fingers passed right through his back.

Will flinched.

"Will?" Nico called. "Will, please. Can you at least hear me? Gods, tell me something!"

His boyfriend's eyes swept the room behind them, his fingers drawn to his nape. Nico could have sworn his eyes caught his, if even for a moment, but Will's cool eyes fell to the floor.

He continued his walk to Kayla.

"So, how's it looking?" Kayla asked, holding her hands out to Will like she was awaiting a manicure. Austin snorted beside her.

"Like I need to change your bandages," Will muttered (at least, that's what Nico thought he muttered; his dream was pulling him across the bed, Nico clawing and fighting pointlessly to stay by his side.)

"I'm surprised you're bleeding so much." He glanced at the chart by her bed. "Did someone give you painkillers?"

Austin rolled his eyes. "You really think she wouldn't try to tough this out?"

"Good point. Let's take a real look at these, hm?"

Will carefully unwrapped the bandages wrist-first. Nico almost turned, but he found he couldn't look away. He gave an experimental tilt of his chin; no problem there. No, this wasn't the dream stopping him—it was his morbid curiosity. (Lol, morbid. Get it?) Kayla was much the same; her eyes almost twinkled as her burns were revealed.

Nico almost sobbed, "Oh gods . . ."

Kayla's hands were ruined. Her fingers were present, but almost unrecognizable; black and—of all colors purple—tendrils slipped across her palms. The skin was split and mangled, ends singed violently in an unnatural shade of red. White patches splotched among it all, fading mid-forearm.

Will was silent as he poured a small vial of nectar into her ragged hands. Other than a sharp inhale, Kayla gave no indication of fear or pain. Nico failed to understand how she was so calm facing this; shouldn't she be in agony? Anguish? She was beyond repair.

Then again, that's what many people said about him a few months ago.

Kayla turned to Austin as Will rewrapped her wounds, somehow smiling brighter than before. "What's wrong with you? You look like someone just died."

She was right, of course; Austin's expression was much like Nico thought his own was, eyes wide and mouth parted. He looked between Will and Kayla, pausing on his brother. Nico could literally feel the gravity shift off of Austin and onto his boyfriend.

"I think Austin and I need to have a conversation about 'optimism,'" Will told her. "I'll need to change these again in the afternoon."

Kayla waved them off with her newly wrapped hands. "Yeah, yeah. I'm looking forward to it."

Will dragged Austin (and subsequently Nico) out of the infirmary to the overhang outside the front door. Rain continued to pour mercilessly outside. Nico flinched as drops of runoff ricocheted off the porch, passing through his smoky form. He couldn't feel the cold, but that didn't change how unpleasant it was.

"Austin—"

"I know, I'm sorry," he interrupted. "I just . . . I can't imagine how she's so calm right now."

"It's not that bad; if I can't help, Harley can."

"Harley can help with what?" Nico asked. Both boys ignored him.

"This is just a lot, I-I wish this is all we had to deal with. Gods, that would make this so much easier."

Will patted his brother's shoulder. "Hey, Chiron and Rachel are trying to figure all of the woods out while I work here. Honestly, this is the best we could've asked for."

Both were silent, turning almost fearfully away from the door. Nico originally thought this was the north face of the infirmary, but as his gaze cut through the thick downpour and to the tree line, where red, orange, and blue spots danced in the wavering light.

Monsters. Not the Greek or Roman beasts Camp Half-Blood chewed up and spat out every day, but tall, gangly creatures with dazed eyes and lolling eyes.

Nico searched those eyes for the ones from the night before—those feline eyes with fangs glinting beneath him. That evil creature he mistook for Chiron.

"I don't know," Austin said, voice unsteady. "Don't you think it's wrong not to tell her?"

Nico, himself, was done with trying to badger questions out of the two. He abandoned his search for the lion-centaur and focused on Will again, who for the first time was frowning.

"Tell Kayla what? She already knows."

"She would be devastated if she did."

"You would be devastated if you were in her shoes."

Something twitched in Nico's peripheral; Austin's fingers were twitching by his side, like he was itching to play his saxophone. Not that he could in this weather, anyway.

Realization dawned on him. "Will, no," Nico begged.

Austin glowered at his feet. "If I could never play again—"

"You would, I promise; I would never let someone, or something, take that from you," Will bumped him with his elbow, "and I'm not going to let that happen to Kayla, either. Look, her burns might not be improving, but they're not getting worse, either. She has time."

Kayla, the best archer among them since her brother Michael Yew, was going to lose her hands.

X X X

Nico knew instantly that he was not at Camp Half-Blood. The smell of saltwater was his first indication, and his second was the elf leaning over him.

She was pretty, Nico thought, but he didn't like her expression; her mouth and brow were angled like his stepmother's when she was trying to decide what to do with him. Their similarities ended there, though. The elf woman had green eyes, not unlike Percy's, and ochre skin where Persephone was thin and pale and sharp.

Anyone different from Persephone was a friend of his.

"Are you awake for good or are you going to bat your eyelashes at me some more?" she asked.

Nico blinked hard. He could vaguely recall someone else standing above him, likely hours ago. Exhausted as he was, he could only remember a dark smear of green against the ceiling.

"For good," Nico confirmed, coughing. How hard did he hit his head last night?

Ah. Last night.

The woman grabbed his shoulder as he struggled to rise. "Where do you think you're going in such a hurry? Whatever it is can wait. Here, have these."

She arranged some pillows behind him, but it gave Nico little comfort. His ribs had been better; he wondered if someone had picked them apart and quickly rearranged them while he slept. He had a strong urge to scratch at a bandage on his face, but the woman's bedside manner made him think better of it. At least the worst of it had passed; he knew damn well that he was quite a ways healed from last night. Gods, there had been so much blood.

Nico coughed again, the woman's hand placed firmly on his clavicle—probably to keep him from doubling over and heaving, which his stomach was definitely in the market for.

"I'm Baye, the village physician." She gestured towards him. "And who might you be?"

"Where am I?"

Baye shook her head, clearly dissatisfied. "No, one question at a time. Name first, place second."

Could he lie? Yes, that would be safer. But the woman had saved his life, so he owed her at least his name—even if he wished it was Will caring for him instead.

"Nico di Angelo, ma'am," he answered.

This seemed to satisfy her. "Lurelin Village, in south east Hyrule. You must be a long way from home, Nico. I don't think I've ever seen a human in these parts."

Nico tried to ignore his trembling heart; in his world, being called human was never a good thing, especially from strangers. "Uh, yeah. . . . And you are . . . ?" He cleared his throat. "If you don't mind me asking, what are you?"

What are you? is also a bad question in Nico's world, and Baye's too, by that scowl on her face. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, if you're not human, I really don't know what that makes you," he said, scrambling to correct himself. "I didn't mean to be rude."

Baye's eyes softened. "Ah, you really are out of your wits here. I'm a Hylian, Nico." She tugged at her pointed ears. "Only Hylians have pointed ears, dear."

Nico debated telling her about Leo, but decided better of it. "I-I think I need some fresh air, or something. This is a lot to take in right now—I'm sorry."

She sighed, kicking his blood pressure up again. "If we had fresh air, you would be in the sun as we speak. The weather has been too bad, as of late. I'm afraid your first visit to Hyrule is amidst a tempest, Nico."

Baye's eyes flickered over him curiously. It occurred to him that she was almost exactly like Annabeth—blunt, analyzing, and unbothered—but his friend was no doctor. Baye had answers; according to Percy, Annabeth's bedside manner consisted of cryptic questions and glares. "I can have my friend come speak to you, if you would like. He's been all over the country; if you need guidance, or bearings, he's the best person you can find."

"Please."

As Baye hastened out of the house (was this her house?) Nico resisted the urge to slap himself. Since when did he beg to meet someone? And since when did the son of Hades need fresh air? The last time he wanted to be outside, kicking along with everyone else, was after defeating Gaea, and before that . . . Well, he didn't like to think about his time with Otis and Ephialtes. (I spelled Ephialtes right on the first try HELL YEAH!)

Nico laid back on his pillows, staring at the wooden planks above. He focused on everything around him: the tangy scent of saltwater, the plop plop of a bowl catching a stray leak, the thrum of rain on the roof—how hadn't he noticed that? Just as Nico was exhaling his growing panic, thunder boomed above him. He flinched, then grimaced at the sparks igniting across his body.

Better hurting inside a warm house than getting struck by lightning outside, he decided.

A few minutes later, mutterings and clunking feet announced Baye's return. Nico was beginning to hate having his back to the door; though, he did have a partition behind him, so he wouldn't be able to see them anyway. He tried to catch their conversation, but the words evaded him. Speaking of words, how did these people know English?

Baye emerged from behind him, her friend in tow. "Nico, this is Sir Link Fidelis."

The man snorted. "Please, I prefer Link."

Nico stared in shock at the new guy, trying to figure out how he could possibly give him answers. Link was a little older than Will, and he could definitely pass for an Apollo kid. His hair was platinum blond, his eyes stark blue; he had an annoyingly optimistic curve to his face, which was endearing on his boyfriend but exhausting on everyone else. A fancy green tunic hung on his lithe frame, a sash and belt cinching it at his waist. Under his sleeves and hem glistened chainmail and a white undershirt; leather gauntlets bound his forearms. Nico assumed that the clattering he heard earlier was really Link removing his gear, as there was plenty missing from his get up. He wore no shoes, only blue socks under khakis, and that strap across his chest was no accessory. Link was a warrior; a warrior drenched in rainwater, but a warrior nonetheless.

"Nico, huh? All the Nicos I've met were nice people," Link said, outstretching his hand. Before Nico could shake it, however, Baye threw a towel in it. Her fellow elf—Hylian—puzzled at her.

Baye pulled his pointy green hat off—something else Nico overlooked—and wrung it into the leak-bowl. "I can't have you dripping all over my patient—you've already left puddles all over the floor! Ahurewa won't be happy if you rot her inn to pieces!"

"I can clean it up," he offered.

"And get even more water on the floor? No thanks." Just like that, Baye disappeared again behind the partition, brandishing a clump of towels like a shield.

Link scrubbed his hair so furiously, Nico was shocked to see that there was any left. "Sorry about that; we like to mess with each other. So, Baye said you had questions? I should be qualified to answer them."

"Thanks. So . . . how and when did I get here?" Nico asked.

"Early this morning—I think around midnight? Baye said she was out on the beach when you just dropped out of the sky." Link glanced at the front door before leaning a little closer, whispering, "You actually landed on her. She said she skipped like a rock across the beach."

Nico sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Oh my gods. . . ."

"I don't think she took it too hard; I mean, she did stay up all night to treat you. It was nearly sunrise when I got here."

"I'm still going to apologize later."

"Later, yes. I'm honestly shocked that you're awake and alert so soon; we expected you to be out for a few days."

"What time is it?"

"I'm not sure; it's pouring so hard that the sun could have left the sky and we would never know. If I had to guess, though, I'd say between ten and eleven in the morning."

Nico turned away, patting his bandaged chest; he never felt comfortable without a shirt. Before Reyna and Will, most people used to pick at how scrawny he was. He gained a little weight ever since the war—mostly from Will slamming meals down in front of him and refusing to leave until he ate half—but two weeks wasn't enough time to soften the impression of his ribs against his skin.

Link made no comment, instead watching him patiently as he waited for any more questions. Nico felt the other man growing on him; he was a lot more chipper than he usually liked, but there was no malice beneath his gaze. There certainly was something else swimming in his eyes, something that Nico struggled to place, and it felt genuine. It reminded him of that mindless joy in a puppy's eyes, but Nico knew that Link was far more intelligent than he let on. He was playful, yet calculating, like Annabeth when she was with Percy.

Oh, how he missed Will.

"Where are my clothes? And my sword?" Nico again asked.

Link gestured to a small shelf in the corner. His aviator's jacket was clumsily folded on top of his shirt, his sword wrapped in pale canvas and belted to the wall. His sword he could understand not seeing immediately; Nico wasn't used to it being so bright. His jacket, however, was not so easy to miss with how messy it was handled.

"We thought better of taking your sword away from you," Link told him. "I apologize for the belt around it; Baye has two little boys who like to get into anything they can find. They once stole their father's raft and had to be rescued a mile out to sea, so you can see why we didn't want them acquiring a weapon."

Nico tried to lean forward again only to gasp and fall back. He waved off Link's sympathetic gaze. "Oh please, I've had worse. I just wanted to see if I could get up."

"I'm afraid you cannot get dressed until Baye checks your injuries again. If you don't mind me asking, do you have any ideas about your situation?"

"Too few and too many, unfortunately," Nico grumbled. Then, under his breath, "I am so tired of all these damned prophecies."

Link's eyes widened slightly. "Prophecies, plural? What—"

Yet another towel was thrown upon him, this time over his face. Baye had returned, a tray in her hands. "I thought I made it clear that Nico would be asking the questions here, Fidelis. You want me to kick you onto the front doorstep, or are you going to do your job?"

"Which doorstep? Personally, I find the second one is best," Link refuted. Nico was surprised to see him poke fun at Baye; afterall, she seemed very serious about leaving him in the rain.

Baye only rolled her eyes, giving Link's left ear a good yank. She kneeled beside Nico amidst the other boy's pained chuckles. "I hope you don't let him pry too much; for someone whose whole career is based on following directions—" she glared pointedly at him; Link only waved in response, "—he always tries to bend the rules. Anyway, do you think you could keep any food down?"

"I thought only I was asking questions here," Nico sassed. Link found this hilarious, snickering at Baye's glare. Nico immediately thought better of it, however, and raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry, I just wanted to mess with you a little; thank you for the food. I should be able to keep it down, but I'm not so sure about eating all of it—"

Baye silenced him with a sharp (albeit hesitant) yank to his own round ear, though her eyes were plenty amused.

"I have a feeling that you'll be just fine, Nico. After all, you and Link have the same talent for getting on my nerves. I can't tell you how many times he's stumbled to me, sporting some of the most unique injuries I've ever seen! I could write a book on his scrapes alone."

"Why stop there? Make a stage play. Malon would be at every show." Link noticed Nico's curious gaze. "Malon's my cousin; she's been kicking and punching me since diapers." The demigod couldn't help but laugh at that.

Baye sighed. "Speaking of diapers, I need to make sure my boys haven't stolen their father's harpoon again. I would like to check your wrappings after you eat, alright, Nico? Link, you make sure he paces himself. And don't you dare eat any of his food! You can eat later!"

Link reluctantly handed Nico a steaming cup of soup. "Yes, Doctor Baye. I'll get right to it, Doctor Baye."

With one last swat at the boys' heads Baye left them. Nico sipped his soup; fish broth? Percy would have a fit.

He liked Lurelin so far, even though he only knew two people. Despite their rocky start, Baye got along with him just fine. He liked Link's unpredictable humor, too; it was refreshing to hear jokes from anyone other than Leo, who picked and pulled at anything too obvious. Nico couldn't help but squirm at the thought of meeting more strangers, but if they were anything like Baye and Link then he had nothing to fear.

Nico turned to Link to thank him, only to recoil at Link's sullied expression.

Link frowned at him. "So, tell me about these prophecies. Please, Nico."

Perhaps Link's unpredictability was not as nice as he originally thought.

"You'd best be taking your rupees elsewhere, young vai. We can't sell to you!"

Reyna massaged her temples—Keep calm, keep calm. "I just want some dried food stores for the next few days; please, I don't have anything else to eat! Do you want me to starve out here?"

"I could ask you the same question! Look," the merchant paused her frantic packing to point to the darkening sky, "we have maybe minutes before it rains again, and I'm not taking any more chances! I told the guards that we should leave Kara Kara Bazaar and stay away, but no! They've dedicated themselves to drowning my wares! I have enough on my plate as is, young vai! Leave me to my own business."

"You think I don't have problems? I have nowhere to go, nowhere to stay, nothing to eat, and now everyone is suddenly packing up and leaving this place? All because of stupid damned weather—"

As if on cue, a relentless torrent of rain slammed into both of them, nearly knocking Reyna on her ass. The merchant woman shrieked and ran off with her heaping bags, carrying whatever she failed to pack.

Reyna sighed. At least I got better clothes, she thought to herself. Now I can starve to death in style.

A new chill accompanied the rain; shuddering, Reyna tugged her cloak over her head. She carefully readjusted her new satchel beneath her cloak as well, where her pauldrons and breastplate were safe from the rain. Imperial gold was difficult to dull or rust, but she didn't like her chances. If a desert had rain like this, anything was possible.

She watched as the other residents of—what was it? Kara Kara Bazaar?—fell into line behind several guards. The oasis was already inches away from the front doorstep of an inn that had refused to board her, citing the weather just as the merchant had. Well, whatever; she doubted they would keep her in their company after the past few hours Reyna spent terrorizing them (Reyna is a . . . ? no, I shan't say) for refusing her service, but she could try to hide among their group. Before the storm, Reyna thought she spotted sandstone walls in the distance; maybe that's where they were going.

Reyna spared one last glance at the oasis. While it wasn't easy to see without squinting, she spotted her denarius winking golden light below the water, the rocks she sat on earlier in the day already swallowed by mere minutes of rain. She contemplated retrieving it, but the coin looked too much like foreign currency (which obviously wasn't wrong) to trade, and Reyna didn't want to get any more drenched than she already was.

"Geela! Come on, we need to follow everyone else!" a little boy shouted, bumping hard into Reyna's leg. Both slipped and fell in the mud; so much for keeping her clothes clean.

She grabbed him by his cloak, not unlike a cat by its scruff. "Hey, watch where you're going!"

"Watch where you're standing!"

Reyna froze as the hood fell away from his face—uh, its face? Whatever he was, Percy would definitely be curious.

He was a fish; his eyes were large and slitted, fins framing his face. His feet were flat, two-toed, and clotted with wet sand, jewelry tinkling on his ankles and wrists. Reyna could easily believe that the boy had fins along his ribs, but he jerked his cloak back over him with an aggravated snarl. Gods, his teeth were pointy.

He ran careful, clawed fingers over the back of his head, which was curled upwards and finned like a fish tail. Something must have pleased him, for his concerned expression tightened into his previous anger.

"It's rude to stare! What, you've never seen a Zora before?" he asked.

"Have you ever seen a human before?"

"Oh." His whole pale, scaly face turned red. Reyna wondered if this was a different response than he was used to. "Uh, well, no, I . . . ." He tugged at the fins on the side of his face. "You're . . . ?"

"She has round ears; of course she is."

Reyna almost fell on her ass for a second time that day. A second Zora stared up at her, this boy far shorter than the other, his eyes bigger and face softer. If she had to guess (and she definitely wasn't qualified to), she would say that the first boy was around ten and the second seven, give or take. Their eyes were similar enough—highlighter yellow—but otherwise she guessed they were not related. Then again, they were the only two Zora she ever saw, desert or otherwise, so she had no real frame of reference.

"I'm Geela," the smaller one introduced. He held up her denarius in his tiny, steady hand. "This is yours."

Reyna glanced at the oasis; sure enough, this was hers. She slipped it into her satchel. "Uh, thanks. I'm Reyna."

Geela stared imploringly at the older boy. "What? I don't owe her anything!"

"This is Gahreen, my older brother. He still wants an apology from you."

Reyna tucked her bangs, previously stuck to her face, behind her ear. "We both fell over, so we're both sorry. Happy now?"

Gahreen's eyes seemed to boil. "Not about that, you dolt!" (Reyna had never been called a dolt before; even so, she felt her eye twitch.) "Muhtal! You got her caught by the guards!"

Muhtal?

Reyna glanced at the evacuation group, which was getting worryingly far. Sure enough, at the very back of the group was her thieving acquaintance from earlier, lazing about in a small cage carried by two soldiers. She seemed comfortable enough, striking up conversation with the guard that arrested her as she munched on some fruit. Reyna wondered if getting caught by the guards was as big of a deal as Gahreen made it out to be; if she knew that they fed criminals, then she might consider getting arrested herself.

"She's fine."

"She'll be fine," Geela echoed.

"She's NOT fine," Gahreen insisted, followed by a quiet Oh, she's not fine from Geela. "She said that the captain will shred her to pieces and sacrifice her if she EVER enters Gerudo Town again! Do you know how they sacrifice people?"

She looked him up and down; gods, this boy had a se. "I have several suggestions."

"They feed people to the Molduga." He pointed into the distance. Either he was really angry about the weather or there was something far west.

Geela narrowed one eye; it occurred to Reyna that as he had no eyebrows, this was the next best thing for him. "I'm pretty sure Miss Muhtal was just messing with us when she said that. Gerudo Town has a proper court and prison system; why would they—"

"You don't know what you're talking about, Geela. Muhtal grew up there; of course she knows how the law works! And that's why she does everything she can to break it."

"Well, Dinaara's also from Gerudo Town, and she says that Miss Muhtal's full of—"

Reyna cleared her throat loudly. Both boys looked up at her curiously, though Gahreen looked ready to chew her out again. "Look, I'm not sure how I got Muhtal arrested, but what exactly do you want me to do about it? I could apologize."

"Start there," Gahreen demanded.

"No, because I'm not sorry," Reyna refuted. He continued to glower at her as she continued, "But what other good would it do for you? The group is leaving us, so why are you wasting your time arguing in front of me when you could be doing . . . Well, whatever you two were going to do before someone ran me over."

Both boys shared an apprehensive glance and, likely, a silent conversation. Geela nodded sagely; Gahreen groaned under his breath and marched even closer to Reyna. He craned his head up, looking her dead in the eyes.

"We want you to help us get her back."

Leo was sure he would have neck pain for the rest of his life after meeting the Gorons; if they were even a foot shorter, he wouldn't need to crane his neck with all his might to look them in the eyes.

Even so, Leo liked what he saw of Goron City. The houses were rocks slabs carefully piled together and reinforced with metal beams; lava broiled along the walkways like dangerous honey. Several Gorons, young and old, shouted greetings and jokes at Peetu, who only grunted in response. Some asked where Peetu found a human, only for Peetu to reply a gruff, "In my way," and continued stomping . . . wherever it was they were going.

Leo had some serious work to do with this guy's sense of humor. He was beginning to concoct some rock-based jokes whenever a booming clang caught his attention.

"OH!" Leo gasped. "You guys have a blacksmith? I love blacksmithing! I like machines more than making weapons or decorations, but—"

The world spun around him as Peetu threw him over his shoulder. The boy wriggled, to no avail. Despite how small Peetu's biceps were compared to the rest of his body, they were still thicker than Leo's trunk.

"You can annoy the blacksmith later. You need to see Boss Kweiyu before anything else, Goro."

"For the millionth time, my name is Leo. Leeeeeee-oooohhhh."

Peetu sniffed. "And Goro means peeerrrrrr-ssooooonnnnnnnn. Now, come on."

Goron City was still enjoyable from Peetu's shoulder, though the Goron's strong odor of ashes and sweat was definitely not the highlight of Leo's day. He spotted the aforementioned blacksmith holding a hammer half his size to his chin, his brow furrowed at a strip of dull metal in his hands. He glanced upwards and diverted his gaze just as quickly when he saw Peetu. Leo was already wondering what he was trying to do with such low quality materials, but now his thoughts shifted to the blacksmith's nervous hustle into his house. How odd.

Goron City disappeared behind dark, glossy stone walls. Peetu dropped him unceremoniously on the floor; thankfully Leo didn't break anything, though Peetu was probably hoping for that.

Across the room, sitting on a nest of gravel and scrap metal, was a Goron easily half Leo's height. His body and dumpling face were shriveled like old peach skin, and his dumpling-shaped head was topped with a gray mound spouting smoke—a mini volcano? He wore only a loincloth (which gave a lot more coverage compared to the other Gorons) and beads poured over his shoulders and wrists. Similar to his head, his knuckles and back also fumed. How was he able to generate smoke, anyway? Leo hoped it wasn't harmful. He liked being able to breathe.

"I have a problem," Peetu grumbled as he entered. Leo was numb to the insult; he'd been called a problem so many times he really needed to consider making it his legal name.

The old Goron smiled, crevices to rival the Grand Canyon rippling across his face. "Now Peetu, that's not how you speak to guests. I'm Boss Kweiyu, Goro. And who might you be?"

He wasn't quite looking Leo in the eyes; no, he seemed to be looking past him. Leo almost turned around before it occurred to him that Boss Kweiyu was blind. Peetu glared pointedly at Leo through his thick, bushy eyebrows, clearly gauging his reaction. Or deciding how far he needed to throw him.

"I'm L-Leo Valdez, sir," he answered—uh, a voice crack now? Geez . . .

Boss Kweiyu chuckled. "So, Champion Peetu thinks you're a problem? You don't sound scary at all! Like an ostrich during a rockslide!"

That Leo could take offense to, though he supposed that of all the birds he could be compared to an ostrich was best. They were such evil creatures, not to mention tall.

Peetu cleared his throat loudly. "Boss, you know I'm not a champion anymore."

"Who else would be?" Boss Kweiyu staggered to his feet; Leo felt his heart leap into his throat as he listed too far to the left. He was unfazed despite it, and used a cane beside his gravel nest to walk to Leo; instead of hobbling, however, he swung the can from side to side. He stopped swinging the end when it gently swatted Leo's pants leg.

"May I?" Boss Kweiyu asked, holding his unoccupied hand close to his face.

As much as he disliked physical contact with strangers, Leo decided that the Boss was an exception. How else was he supposed to know how awesomely handsome he was?

"I don't mind," Leo answered.

Boss Kweiyu's hand was ragged, clumsy, and stubby, but also careful. Leo bent down to allow him better reach; Boss Kweiyu smiled even wider.

"Curly hair, huh? Did you know that we Gorons don't have curly hair at all? It's such a shame; I think I could rock a perm." Leo sputtered a laugh, Peetu rolling his eyes in his peripheral vision. Gods, he needed to lighten up.

Boss Kweiyu's hand stopped abruptly over his left ear, his wide smile melting off of his face. He turned to Peetu, his eyes wide and pearly.

"You understand, now? And you all act like I'm dramatic," he said, crossing his arms. "I found him a little ways from the Bridge of Eldin."

"That close to the mine?"

"Practically in the mouth of it, I'd say, Boss."

"Why were you so close, Goro?"

"Er—"

"What's wrong?" Leo asked, pulling away from Boss Kweiyu's still hand. "Look, I don't know how or why I was by a mine, but what's the issue? Is there something wrong with my ear?"

The Gorons weren't listening, however, as Boss Kweiyu was busy rapping his walking stick on Peetu's side. Steam poured heavily out of the vents on his body, clouding the small hut.

"WHAT did I tell you about going into that mine, Goro! You're going to get yourself killed!"

Leo raised a limp hand. "Guys—"

"I wasn't about to fight it! I was only tryin' to get as much food as possible, I swear, Boss!" He parried Boss Kweiyu's blows, only for the much smaller Goron to swipe his feet out from under him and smack him on the head. Leo decided he would do anything Boss Kweiyu said from then on.

"Uh, Goros—"

"AND WHAT WILL YOU DO WHEN IT COLLAPSES ON YOU? DO YOU WANT ME TO HAVE MY TWO STRONGEST BROTHERS CRUSHED AND DYING IN THEIR BEDS—"

CRACK!

Both Gorons flinched and turned to Leo, who was trying not to look at the spiderweb of cracks his hammer left on the floor. As much as he liked seeing Peetu get the crud beat out of him, Boss Kweiyu was more frightening in his fury than Leo would have liked.

"I need to know why I'm a problem!" he shouted.

Boss Kweiyu's staff fell back to his side. "Oh, goddesses, I'm so sorry, Leo. I-I shouldn't have lost my temper in front of you—"

"You're a human," Peetu deadpanned. "Of course that's an issue—"

That earned him another crack on the head, but the message was heard.

"Human?" Leo looked between the two of them. "What's that got to do with anything?"

The room was silent for a count of five—which never meant anything good. Finally, Boss Kweiyu sighed, shuffling towards the entrance way.

"Follow me, little Goro. There is much to discuss."

End of Chapter 5

Thank you for reading! I was originally going to upload this on Friday, however I needed to rewrite part of Nico's POV that was bothering me; also, I came down with a sinus infection and didn't have the energy to do much other than eat and sleep. I plan to upload some pictures to an AO3 post on the weekend at the latest. Otherwise, I don't have much else to say! Have a nice day and a restful night.