YUCK! Now that I've gotten most of my business in order (the business being rendering for hours that I will never have back in my life again — which isn't to say that it wasn't worth it), I can get back to writing fanfiction! Yipee!

. . . I really need to stop avoiding my other fics.

Chapter 9: Nesting in Inconvenience

By the time they arrived at Muhtal's "safe place," everyone was soaked to the bone. Gahreen and Geela didn't seem to mind — they danced in the falling rain, their scales catching what little light passed through the clouds — but Reyna couldn't share their enthusiasm. If not for the thunder, the guards would have tracked her shivering armor before they got very far.

Muhtal wordlessly loped to a outcropping of rocks a mile or so from their previous path, wiggling through two particular spires. The boys did the same, though their size made it far easier. Reyna was just happy to go anywhere that might be dry.

"Gods," Reyna breathed.

Deep within the rocks was a shallow waterway carved out of the ground and laden with pale blue stones. Stretching out for several yards behind and in front of her was a sandstone brick path, though the wall seemed naturally formed. It was pleasant enough, though Reyna couldn't appreciate the cool draft swiping in the air.

"Our place is deeper in the tunnel," Muhtal told her, already several paces ahead of them. "If you want your precious information, then you oughta hurry."

"The guards won't find us here?"

She chuckled. "I said it was safe, didn't I? Besides, nobody uses this place anymore. Probably forgot about it. I would if I could."

"The place has a bad history," Geela muttered; for a moment, Reyna thought he was speaking to himself. "Dinaara said that it used to be a prison for criminals—"

"—except they weren't criminals. Right, Muhtal?" Gahreen asked, smiling hopefully.

"That's right, Reeny. Now come on; hopefully you can catch some leaks."

Both boys gasped, then took off down the tunnel.

Reyna raised an eyebrow at Muhtal. "What did he mean by that?"

"One question at a time, ma'am," she mocked. "As soon as I'm dry, I'll start talking."

"That wasn't the deal. You agreed that we would talk as soon as we were safe." The Praetor gestured at the otherwise empty tunnel. "Do you see any threats here?"

"Yeah. A head cold."

Fair. They continued in silence.

After several more turns and crudely carved stairs, they arrived at a tunnel swathed in beaded curtains. Muhtal pushed them aside casually, having enough courtesy to let Reyna halfway through before she dropped them and ran into the room.

Room might have been understating it; whatever this place was, it clearly had been packed before Muhtal and this Dinaara inhabited it. The main area they entered was a perfect square, with canals spilling into a small, shallow circle in the middle. Gathered around this circle were various pieces of furniture, ranging from rickety antiques minutes away from collapse to a couch carved out of sandstone and laden with pillows and blankets. Muhtal had already draped herself across this couch, accepting a ragged towel from Gahreen before he ran off.

"Nice place," Reyna admitted, liking how her voice echoed against the ceiling. Maybe if the Senate building had such intimidating acoustics her centurions would actually listen to her for once. (Not to name any names, that is. . . . Dakota.)

Muhtal pried her veil off, furiously wiping at her smeared make-up. "Yeah, it does a girl just fine." Loud giggles sounded from another room. "And a few others too, as you can see."

Gahreen and Geela emerged from another curtained tunnel. In their finned hands were several stacks of bowls, wooden and ceramic. They scampered about the room, setting them down randomly. By the time they were all placed, the boys drifted around aimlessly, glaring expectantly at the ceiling.

"What are you doing?"

"Collecting rainwater," Gahreen said, not bothering to spare her a glance.

"You might be surprised to find that there is a lot more of it outside," Reyna deadpanned. She shuddered out of her soaked cloak — with luck, Muhtal wouldn't try to steal it. "I got plenty right here, too."

Geela paused his scrutinizing the room. "We used to get whatever we could at Kara Kara Bazaar, but Pabuhl accidentally broke our last pot." He frowned. "If this rain hadn't started in the first place, we probably could have afforded two by now."

Reyna sat down beside Muhtal, careful to avoid the thief's muddy shoes. "How would the rain—?"

Muhtal sighed. "Unfortunately, this weather's everywhere in Hyrule right now. We've hardly gotten any tourists these past few weeks."

"Tourists for you to steal from?" she asked.

She stuck her tongue out in reply, then returned to wringing her hair out. She passed the towel to Reyna once she was done — as if it would make any difference. Muhtal's hair was so long and thick, the towel was wetter than either of them had been in the rain. Reyna let it fall heavily to the floor. She never minded air drying, anyway.

"So about this whole 'singling you out' business—"

"Muhtal? Is that you?"

Both whipped around towards a passageway behind them. Reyna watched as a woman emerged from behind the orange curtains — a beautiful woman. Like her fellow Gerudo, she was amazingly tall, but she differed in her softer build and curly hair, like flame licks. Jewelry twinkled as she walked, swathes of opaque and translucent fabric — all in warm reds — pouring over her. If Reyna had to guess her occupation, she would say that she was a performer — a dancer, or even an instrumentalist.

"I thought I heard your voice," the woman said.

Muhtal zipped across the room, diving straight into her arms. The woman caught her easily, though Reyna could see her mouth curve disapprovingly through her veil.

"It was terrible Dinaara!" Muhtal wailed, looking up through her lashes. "Th-those evil, evil guards almost got me. I thought I was done for sure."

So this is Dinaara, Reyna thought. No wonder Geela talked about her so much; Reyna could already see something brewing within the woman, like sparks waiting to burst into flames.

Muhtal sobbed melodramatically. (Reyna hoped she didn't consider a career in acting.) "My nerves are just so shot! Th-the doctors said that the only thing that can save me is a home-cooked meal. Like . . . I dunno . . . creamy heart soup. . . ."

Dinaara dumped her onto the ground. "As if we could afford a doctor. Make up a better story next time."

"Yes, I'll get right to it — but what about that soup?"

"DINAARA!"

Just like that, Muhtal's soap-opera was over. Geela tore across the room, wrapping Dinaara's legs in a tight embrace. The thief's plight was quickly forgotten as Dinaara kneeled down to scoop the little Zora into her arms.

"You seem like you've had a good day so far. What happened?" Dinaara asked.

Geela must have been choked with excitement, for all he could do was point his trembling claw at Reyna.

Dinaara's eyes — yellow as topaz — swept over her. For a moment, Reyna thought that she looked frightened; but for someone so seemingly obsessed with the color red, she had an awfully cool gaze.

"I'm sorry. I didn't see you . . ."

"Reyna."

". . . Reyna." She straightened. "My name is Dinaara. I am the dancer in our troupe."

Reyna peered accusingly at Muhtal, who was still rubbing her sore back on the floor. "Troupe?"

"That's what I was trying to tell you about," Muhtal noted. "Din here happened to interrupt us."

Dinaara's eyes widened. "You mean she's—?"

"—our best option? Of course!" She swung her arm in Reyna's direction. "Just look at her! Even without all those muscles, she could incinerate a bandit with just a glare!"

"What are you talking about?" Reyna asked.

Dinaara and Muhtal swept onto the couch. The former muttered something in Geela's ear; the boy ran off, leaving the three to their matters.

"I told you that we rely on tourism for money, didn't I? Well, that just happens to be our trade." Muhtal puffed out her chest. "We're a performance group founded in Gerudo Desert: the Wasteland Troupe!" She jazzed her hands, as if this was something mighty impressive.

"I'm not a performer," Reyna deadpanned.

Dinaara threw one of her legs over the other. "Fortunately for you, we have plenty of performers. You've already met our boys, not to mention us," she said, gesturing at Muhtal and herself. "We actually have two others, but they're a little busy right now."

"Then what do you want with me?"

Both women shared a knowing glance. As much as Dinaara liked to glare at Muhtal, she sensed something there; whatever it was, it was likely just as old as they were. Reyna wouldn't be surprised to know if they were friends from birth. When one acted, the other followed, like ripples on water.

"Dinaara and I founded the troupe," Muhtal began; gods, this was going to be a winded explanation. "We always wanted to explore the world, so what better way than as performers? She already knew how to dance, and I can come up with any story, so it was a good idea." Her eyes darkened. "Better than wasting away in Gerudo Town."

"It's really not that bad. It will always be our home, after all," Dinaara retorted.

"Hm. Well, we've picked up more people ever since, so we thought we had everything covered. We packed up our things and made preparations to tour all across Hyrule, taking in all we could."

"It didn't go well," Reyna guessed.

Dinaara shook her head. "Not at all. We were only a third of the way through Gerudo Canyon before we decided to make camp for the night — it can get dangerously cold in the desert, you know. The night was quiet, and we had eaten our fill, but our fire must have given us away to the wrong crowd. When I woke up, it was midnight, and there were strangers standing over me."

"Not just any strangers," Muhtal growled. Reyna had originally pegged her for a playful person, but light lightheartedness had left her. "Yiga."

She stared at Reyna expectantly, as if the name might have stung. Then her jaw dropped.

"You must know about the Yiga—"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing."

"In any case, they're a clan of bandits that used to live out here; given the circumstances, though, I'd say they're back." Dinaara's grip tightened on her arm. "It was terrible. If the others hadn't scared them off. . . . I don't like to imagine what could have happened."

Muhtal placed her hand on her friend's shoulder. "Dinaara here is very talented — not only as a dancer, but she's awfully . . . devout, so to speak. So, we think that they're targeting her intentionally. That was our only encounter with them, but it really is just a matter of time before they find us here. What's worse, we'll go bankrupt if we stay here any longer."

That didn't sound any worse than being kidnapped to Reyna, though the troupe was clearly aching for money. Gahreen and Geela were in sore need of new cloaks, and now that she was up close and personal with Muhtal, she could see how her clothes were seriously faded. The thief was petite by Gerudo standards — without her heels, she was barely eye level with Reyna. The Praetor wondered just how many meals she had skipped over the past few weeks.

Normally, Reyna would suggest that Muhtal and Dinaara sell some of their jewelry, but the gold Muhtal had dropped for her was barely enough to afford anything. She still had some left over after so many vendors had refused to sell to her, though she already knew she could maybe afford a night in a cheap bed and no dinner. Still, it was better than not having anything at all. . . .

A puzzle piece clicked into place in her brain. Here she was, wondering what Muhtal and Dinaara were getting at when it had been so obviously in front of her! How could she be so dense?

This place is not doing good things for me, Reyna noted. As soon as she got the chance, she was out of Hyrule; she couldn't afford to lose anymore of her wits.

She shifted in her new clothes. "You want me to escortyou," she said.

Muhtal beamed. "Yes! What, did you think I got arrested for funsies? No! I always have a plan."

"Wait, you actually got arrested today?" Dinaara gasped. "You know how I feel about you getting so close to town—"

"I thought town was — how did you put it? — 'really not that bad,'" Muhtal mocked.

Dinaara pursed her lips, clearly putting forth a great effort to not strangle the girl. Reyna could sympathize.

"Look I'm sorry about deceiving you." She didn't look at all apologetic. "We just need your abilities. And you need us, right? If I hadn't given you that fruit, you would probably be stumbling half dead through the cold, dark rain by now."

"I'd like to consider breaking you out of jail as payment."

Muhtal waved her off, pointedly ignoring Dinaara's hard glare as well. "I had a plan B if you didn't turn out to be all 'noble' — but you did, which is why you're the perfect fit. Please . . . huh. Now that I think about it, I can't remember your name."

"Reyna," Dinaara and Reyna answered at the same time.

"Rey-Rey. Please, Rey-Rey?" She poked out her lower lip. "We're dead meat without you."

Nice try. "Only if you never call me that again."

Muhtal frowned, displeased.

"Hey . . ." Dinaara warned.

"Oh, fine," she grumbled. She turned to Dinaara. "You are going to make dinner though, right?"

"You know we don't have the milk to make soup. The most I can do is simmered fruit." (Oops! ALL hearty simmered fruit!)

"Again? I mean—I love simmered fruit! Thank you so much!"

Dinaara looked Reyna up and down, her gaze catching on Reyna's cloak. The Praetor tugged it closer to her; Athena blessed it, after all. She wouldn't trade it for anything.

"You're going to need all the food you can get," she said finally.

Reyna frowned. "Why do you say it like that?"

"The challenge, obviously. Did you think we would hire you without a test run? We got to see how you fight!" Muhtal clapped her hands together. "Ooh, this is gonna be so much fun!"

Strangely enough, Reyna didn't think so herself. Especially with Dinaara staring so hard at her.

"I can't believe this place is holding up under so much pressure," Percy wondered aloud, looking up at the dripping cave roof. "I'm no stranger to subterranean caves, but the reservoir should have collapsed this place a long time ago."

Tenji-san unslung his bag. "Well, if hundreds of years of being here hasn't destroyed it, then hopefully this drainage system won't."

He pulled out several tools and diagrams Percy couldn't even begin to fathom, which he took as his sign to get to work.

King Caudalis had been clear about their objective: finish the tunnel or die. That last part wasn't a threat, exactly; if either of them made one wrong move below the East Reservoir, then they would be crushed by several tons of heavy rock and glass. The cave itself opened up onto the surface, so at least they had a way out — of the cave, that is. Percy didn't like to imagine what the Zora would do if he suddenly bailed.

"Is this the right wall?" Percy asked.

"Huh?" Tenji san looked up from frantically assembling two pipes. "Uh, yes, I do believe so. Yes, yes."

You don't sound so sure. Even so, he got to carving.

Hydrokinesis definitely wasn't Percy's first option for carving up rocks — that would be Hazel — but it sure as Hades did a decent job. All he had to do was force a few puddles into some cracks in the wall and BAM! — instant break away. The issue, however, was making sure that the cracks didn't spread too far upwards. Percy liked having an intact skeleton too much to destroy the cave. He assumed Tenji-san felt the same way.

He thought it would be easy, until he broke through a wall an hour in.

"The hell . . . ?" he muttered.

Whatever this place was, Percy busting through it was clearly the first contact it had with their cave. It was a smaller cavern, with brown stalactites and glowing rocks. But it was dry — dark and warm and dry as a bone. Percy wondered if Tenji-san really had gotten the directions wrong.

He turned to yell for him, then thought better of it. Shouting probably wouldn't be enough to destroy the place, but he didn't like his chances.

Percy made his way back. When he emerged from his crudely carved tunnel, he found that Tenji-san had made considerable progress with . . . what was it again? A drain? Whatever it was, it was impressive; in an hour, Tenji-san had already managed to connect it to the cave roof. But he doubtlessly had more work still, for it was only a skeleton of a wonder.

Percy craned his neck to look up at the man, who was clinging to his drain a good twenty feet in the air, fidgeting with something. "You've really outdone yourself, but, um, I think we have a problem."

"Problem?" Tenji leaned dangerously far from his hold. "Oh goddesses, what happened?"

"I broke into another cave."

He blinked. "Well, there are plenty of caves around here. What could be wrong with that?"

"It's warm and dry."

"You don't think that it's—?"

"—above land? Definitely. Are you sure that I was supposed to dig that way?"

"Certainly. Well, maybe—watch out down there."

"What are you—WOAH!"

Tenji-san jumped — jumped twenty feet — and landed beside him. How he didn't shatter his old-man ankles from that drop, Percy had no idea.

Tenji placed his tools in his bag. "Show me this cave."

And Percy did, leading him through. Tenji spared a few compliments—"You carved this at the perfect angle!"—until the end, where he stood awfully quiet. His eyes fluttered shut, pointed ears twitching as he stepped carefully forward.

"This is heading towards Lake Floria," he said, groping for the wall, "but how curious! I've never seen a cave like this in East Necluda."

Percy shifted uncomfortably. "Why does the king want us draining the reservoir in Faron, anyway? He showed me a map; the sea is right next to us. Wouldn't that be better?"

Tenji-san shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Young Percy. The reservoir can only be emptied from below, so draining it out to sea would be . . . in short, a terrible decision. Besides, Lake Floria in Faron can take it. It's situated at the apex of a river. For now, we'd like to keep freshwater with freshwater."

"Ah," Percy said, even though he didn't understand at all. Then again, he was always down with keeping the ocean untouched.

"Hm, that's odd," Tenji-san said, stopping at the far wall — directly across from the tunnel mouth.

"What's up?"

He looked frantically back. "The draft ends here — how is that possible? For a cave to be this dry, it must be somewhat exposed. So how . . . ?"

"Let me look."

Not that I can make much difference, Percy thought. He didn't spend too much time underground. Not since the Labyrinth.

The wall spiraled into a small divot, where a small crevice — not unlike a navel — breathed into the cave. It was unlike anything Percy had ever seen before. Again, he didn't know much about caves, but this seemed impossible.

He held his hand out towards the tunnel, pleased when several drops of moisture streamed across his arm. "Let's see how far this goes."

The drops snaked between the fissure, only to be interrupted by thousands of little dots exploding outwards. They were spiders — thousands of them, all fleeing for their lives. Suddenly, Percy was grateful that he was so unqualified; if Annabeth was here, she would abandon the job entirely. Percy, on the other hand, kept a level head. As it would turn out, slamming several pounds of water into them was enough to slay the whole lot.

Tenji-san stomped on an outlying spiderling. "Those had to come from somewhere."

"Somewhere way away from here." Percy drummed his fingers on the cave wall. "This fissure goes out for miles, and right where you told me to go."

"I have the sense that something bad will happen there," Tenji-san muttered. His face was difficult to read — cautious, yet calm. Resigned, even.

"On that we can agree," Percy said, flicking a dead spider off his forearm.

Whatever awaited them would doubtlessly be more difficult to deal with than a few little spiders, but at least it made Percy's job easier. With a disgruntled huff, he began digging again.

Impa wondered why people liked stables so much, anyway; caves were much better. She had found this one a little ways from said stable, situated in a massive outcropping of rock. The mouth was so wide, she was easily able to get Mimi through.

"Nice place, huh?" she asked her steed. "I'll have to tell Mama about it when she comes home. Maybe she'll want to see it for herself!"

Mimi swayed under her heavy pack, unconcerned with anything but easing his load. She suddenly felt very guilty; they'd managed to narrowly avoid the storm, but she had forgotten that it wasn't their only roadblock. If Mimi didn't rest, she could say goodbye to making any progress tomorrow.

She started untying her bedroll. "I'm sorry. We can stay at a stable tomorrow, okay? I'll get you some carrots."

This seemed to curb his anger. His long ears settle forward, pleased with the thought of feasting.

Croak!

Impa paused, listening closely. No, she must be hearing things; there couldn't be any—

CROAK!

"Frogs!" she gasped, already sprinting deeper into the cave. Behind her, Mimi huffed imploringly, but she was long gone.

As excited as she was to find frogs, their cries sent a pang through her tiny heart. Her pace slowed as she wondered about Tenji-san; had he escaped Kakariko? Escaped Komori-san? Goddesses know what her evil babysitter would do if she got her claws on him. But if he was really at Zora's Domain . . . he was doing great things there, no doubt about it.

He'd be so upset if he knew you weren't following the map, part of her thought. But another part — a far more resolute one — puffed with pride. He would be so impressed with how she handled that stranger, clumsy as she was. Impa could already imagine how he would glow when she told him — and how her mother would, too. Maybe Komori-san was right to make her chief. Impa had a surprisingly good head on her shoulders.

Impa instinctively tucked herself against the cave wall as she neared the croaking frogs, grateful that she did when she heard something else accompanying them — snorting, like a pig. For a moment, she wondered if there was a whole trove of animals before it occurred to her that while the sound was familiar, pigs didn't walk with that stride.

She stifled a gasp; bokoblins.

Leaning carefully over, Impa found that the cave room ahead of her was crowded with three of the orange monsters. They sat over a small fire, which was certainly not warm enough to sleep by. One bokoblin poked the flames with a stick, another desperately trying to dry firewood with an old rag (they are not very smart). The third, however, crouched beside a metal bucket, poking at something inside . . .

My frogs! she realized. Goddesses, they were going to cook them! She'd sooner die than let her precious little frogs perish by their stumpy bokoblin-claws.

Before she could stop herself, she jumped away from her cover. "HEY!"

All three turned abruptly, their multicolored eyes swiveling from shock. It probably wasn't everyday that a primary schooler shouted at them.

"YOU LEAVE THOSE FROGS ALONE," Impa cried, unsheathing her kunai, "OR FACE ME!"

She wasn't sure how much Hylian they could understand, but pointing her knives in their direction was enough. They scrambled for their clubs and shields. As soon as the first one was a few feet away from her, Impa's courage wilted.

They really looked smaller than a person from a distance — they had the right proportions to be, anyway. But now that they were so close, Impa was sure that these ones would clear Tenji-san with their shoulders back. Even slouching, they towered over her, saliva dripping from their round fangs.

To her credit, Impa did what she was trained to do: she threw her knife.

The bokoblin hefted its shield, then looked curiously at where her kunai was lodged.

"Uh-oh," she whispered. And then she fled.

It was an honest miracle that they didn't catch her, with how hard they tried. One even pounced, but it seemed that it also underestimated her size. It sailed overhead, slamming into the cave wall. If she didn't still have the other two after her, she would have laughed.

She scooped up the bucket of frogs. "You're safe now—AH!"

Without realizing it, she had run straight into the fire. Impa shrieked, then remembered that the bokoblins weren't very good at picking out firewood. Running over it, it wasn't nearly hot enough to even scorch her clothes; fortunately, the bokoblin behind her wasn't so lucky. He must have been diving for her ankles, but he turned up with a face full of sparks instead. It screeched, rolling away. The other bokoblins, including the one that had sobered since hitting the wall, hurried over to it.

Impa didn't have time to appreciate the empathy between the three. She sprinted away, straight for where she left Mimi.

Somehow, her donkey had managed to lay down, even with a pack on his back. He raised his ears curiously when she approached, then flattened them against his head when he heard the vengeful cries behind her.

"UP! Up, up, up, up!" she shouted. Mimi squealed as she jumped onto the saddle, her bucket of frogs clutched tightly to her chest. If her screaming wasn't already enough to spur him, the bokoblins certainly did the job. Mimi bolted out of the cave as soon as he saw them.

She thought for a hopeful moment that they wouldn't follow her into the rain; apparently, she misjudged how deep their anger ran. Two of them, not including the one she burned, chased after them.

Impa sobbed, snapping Mimi's reins. "Run, please!"

And Mimi did — straight into the forest.

She was dimly aware that if the bokoblins didn't kill them, tripping over a tree root could. Impa pulled back in a desperate effort to keep Mimi at an even pace, turning as she did.

The bokoblins were far behind, swatting at . . . nothing. No, wait; not nothing — bees. Mimi had run straight under a Courser Bee hive.

"Thank you, thank you!" Impa leaned forward, careful with her frog-bucket as she hugged Mimi's neck. "I don't know what we would have done!"

Mimi continued trotting quickly away, but she heard him rumble over the rain. Tired as he was, he had every right to be prideful.

Impa's relief was short-lived, however. Where could they go now? That cave was likely the only one for miles, and getting to another stable was out of the question. But Mimi had already taken her so far, and to ask him to walk all the way to the Breach of Demise in the rain was borderline sadistic.

Mimi veered out of the treeline, heading straight towards the overflowing Hylia River. Impa dismounted, her feet sinking into the bank. She left the bucket there, tipped over towards the water.

"Those monsters might come back," Impa told them. "You should swim away quickly."

The frogs stared at her with their big yellow eyes, unmoving. Then one sprang into the river; the others followed.

Impa wiped her nose on her sleeve. As sad as she was to see them go, they were better off in the water than they were in a bucket.

She patted Mimi's jaw. "We'll keep moving until dark. Then we'll set up camp, I promise."

For his benefit, she led him along instead of riding him. Mimi would need as much of his strength as possible. Hopefully, they could find an overhang on the side of the road for shelter. And goddesses help them if they came across more bokoblins. . . . No, she couldn't think like that, especially with so much depending on her.

Impa trudged into the pouring rain, thinking of her mother all the while.

Boss Kweiyu sure knew how to make a human feel at home. All it took was a little whispering to the general store manager and Leo was set up with more food than he knew what to do with.

Cooking with the odd materials they gave him was difficult, especially with how most of it caught on fire in the volcanic air, but after a few minutes of trial-and-error, Leo was happily feasting.

Peetu and Deykrik watched him with disgust, both standing before him in the blacksmith's hut. Boss Kweiyu had long since told them to follow Leo's instructions, then retreated to his home — probably so he didn't have to hear anymore of their bickering. However, Leo's gross human-food was enough to distract them from their grudges. For even better distractibility, he chewed with his mouth open.

"This stuff here," Leo said, holding up a half-full bottle of sloshing red liquid the general store gave him, "is amazing! If I didn't already owe y'all for being so nice to me, I would be helping just for this!"

Deykrik wrinkled his nose. "That's Goron spice. A lot of tourists like it."

Leo poured the rest on his improvised fajitas. "I understand why! Man, this stuff is good."

"Are you going to look at the map we gave you or not?" Peetu grumbled.

"Right, right," Leo said, brushing crumbs off his fingers. As eager as he was to bother the two, he couldn't get food all over the map.

The "map" was actually a thick slab of rock, painted with sloppy white lines. Dyslexic or not, the writing was so messy it was completely illegible. Leo could do better with his left hand.

He tapped a small metal disk on the left side of the mine, which had a rather . . . interesting layout. "Is this supposed to be the Dodongo?"

"For now," Deykrik said. "I would've made a more realistic model, but we're gonna need as much metal as we can find. Our stocks are dangerously low."

"You keep track of them?"

"Of course—"

Leo shooed him away without looking up. "Show me."

Peetu glowered at him in Deyrkik's stead. "Do you even know what a dodongo is, human Goro?"

"Nope!"

"It's—"

"No spoilers, please."

His disrespect shocked Peetu so badly, he shut up.

Deykrik returned seconds after, dropping a long, thin rock slab on top of the map. Leo did not bother to thank him.

The writing on the stock list was slightly more readable than the map's, though Leo didn't recognize almost any of the metals' names. Thankfully, he saw no zeros; even so, the inventory was dangerously scarce.

Wait a minute, Leo thought. He looked between the list and the map, sure he missed something. This was really it? Just a big monster and a mine? Sure, if the mine collapsed in the fight it wouldn't be so easy, but they had more than enough metal to make support beams—crude support beams, but support beams nonetheless.

Against his better judgment, he laughed. Deykrik and Peetu looked ready to murder him.

"What's so funny?" Deykrik asked.

"Just that you're freaking out over nothing," Leo said, holding his stomach. "I mean, seriously? I've dealt with worse situations. Defeating this Dodongo will be a piece of pie." To punctuate this, Leo stabbed his fork through a giant slice of pie. He maintained hard eye contact with the two as he scooped the whole slice up and took a massive, nasty bite.

Peetu stifled a gag. "If the Dodongo senses that we are beating it, then it will collapse the entire mine on us. I'm not so worried about my life, but the others—"

"Already thought about that. I can make support beams, no problem. They won't be pretty, but they'll do—actually, yes problem." Leo waved his fork, still loaded, at them. "That monster's not just gonna sit around while I'm doing this. Someone's going to have to distract it."

Deykrik's hand shot up. "I'll go—"

"Over my dead body!" Peetu shouted. "I'll do it."

Leo took another disgusting bite of pie. "Good, so I can check that off the list—"

"It probably will be over your dead body!" Deykrik jabbed his giant finger in Peetu's face. "In case you haven't noticed, Master Kreita's gonna die because you couldn't fight off the Dodongo!"

"Fellas—"

"And you think it'll be all better if you get yourself killed? You young goros, always so foolish—"

"You old goros—"

Leo was beginning to wonder why Goron City was the "land of siblinghood" that Peetu sold it as. So far, all the demigod had seen was arguing, yelling, and more arguing. Apparently, distracting them with his bad eating habits could only last so long. So, ever the dramatist, Leo tried Plan B: chucking a fireball at them.

His aim was perfect; it sailed straight between the two, dissolving as it hit the wall behind them. Both Gorons reeled back quickly, turning with what might have been awe towards him. One of Deykrik's eyebrows was on fire.

Leo put a hand over his mouth. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Did I interrupt you? Hm?"

". . . Sorry," Peetu mumbled.

"I didn't catch that."

"We're sorry," both of them murmured.

"Hey, don't apologize to me," Leo said, gesturing to the far end of the room, "apologize to Kreita. Seriously, you both want to help him, right? So why in Hades are you chompin' each others' faces over this? He's dying, and all you can focus on is fighting over who gets to help!"

They were silent, their eyes glued to the ground.

He sighed; for once, he felt like the most mature person in the room. Ugh, Piper would find that hilarious. "Peetu's right, anyway. He should be the one to distract the Dodongo."

"But—"

"Dey — can I call you Dey? — I have a job for you too. I'd even say it's equally important." Leo leaned forward in his chair, pointing at what he assumed was an ore deposit on the map. "I need you to grab as many materials as possible, especially food. If that mine collapses, then what you get might be enough to feed the city."

"I can do that."

Something changed in Deykrik then, though what it was, Leo didn't know. His shoulders squared rather promisingly, but he still kept his head tilted downwards, his face dark in the glowstone lighting. Beside him, Peetu looked off into the distance.

Leo wondered what he saw.

Even from the small path winding up the side of Hyrule Castle, Annabeth could already see the history bursting within every pebble of cobblestone. Malon must have felt like she was dragging a balloon behind her; Annabeth was too engrossed in analyzing everything she saw to walk on her own.

Around them milled several people, none of which were human. She saw soldiers in gleaming gray armor, blue horse hair draping over their helmets. Hylians in fine clothes and cloaks trimmed in gold stood by windows and doorways, along with some in simple servant attire. Almost every single one of them spared them a glance, no doubt familiar with Malon. But their eyes always lingered on Annabeth, curious about who this young girl could be. For good measure, she readjusted her headband over her ears.

The stables were no less opulent, with stone pillars holding up blue-tiled roofs. Inside chuffed horses of every size and color, along with little mules and oxen. Moving around them were several knights and servants, including a little boy with ginger hair fussing at several of them for not taking care of their steeds.

"Honestly!" he nabbed. "Just because you can't go anywhere doesn't mean that they should just rot in the stables! Come visit them, for the goddesses sake!"

"One moment please," Malon said to her, then walked to the boy. Annabeth couldn't catch their conversation over the rain, but the stable boy glanced curiously at her every so often. Finally, he nodded, sending Malon away so that he could continue chewing people out.

"Everything okay?" Annabeth asked

Malon smiled. "I just had to speak with Pilwyn really quickly — he's the stable boy. He says it's alright if you hang around while I look for someone to take you to the princess." She readjusted the basket on her arm. "I think my friend Oethar can help you with that. He's—"

"I can help with what, now?"

A knight walking by on his horse stopped, glancing down at them. His eyes were hazel, his hair oak-brown. Across his face spilled several constellations of freckles.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you!" Malon cupped Annabeth's shoulder. "Do you think you could take my friend here to the Princess? She has something urgent to tell her. . . ."

Oethar smiled painfully. "I don't think Her Majesty is taking any concerns right now. You might want to try writing to her instead—"

Annabeth pulled back part of her headband, revealing her round ears. Oethar's voice died in his throat.

"I said it was urgent," Malon reminded him.

Oethar stared for a few seconds too long; Annabeth's face burned. Really, how rarely did they see humans here?

Suddenly, he turned away and whistled—loudly and sharply. Annabeth quickly tucked her ear under her headband again, just to avoid the noise. He sat completely still in his saddle until something moved in a doorway several feet away.

It was a little dog, trotting pleasantly towards them, its mouth hanging open. Its eyes were green, its pelt black and tan and white. Probably a shepard of some kind, though not a breed Annabeth recognized.

Oethar shifted in the saddle. "Look, normally I would take you to her for" — he gestured awkwardly in her direction — "this, but I'm afraid I have something urgent to deal with myself. But Presh here should be able to help you just fine."

"Presh" punctuated this with a cheerful bark, wagging his tail with delight. Annabeth had to resist the urge to hug the dog.

"It looks like you and I are parting ways, Annabeth," Malon said. Her eyes dragged across Annabeth's face, like she was searching for some way to keep her. But Annabeth knew where she needed to be, and right now, it wasn't with Malon.

"We'll see each other again," Annabeth reassured her. "I'll make sure of it."

Malon squeezed her into a tight hug. Some of her wet red hair stuck to Annabeth. She thought for a solemn moment that it must look like her face was dripping with blood.

"I'm just outside of Castle Town. There are signs on the road."

Annabeth patted her back. "I'll have to keep that in mind."

Her friend pulled away slowly, looking up at Oethar imploringly. The knight sighed.

"I already know what you're going to ask. He hasn't written yet. We have no idea when he'll be back."

Her brow furrowed. "That can't be right."

"Believe me, I know." He looked to Annabeth. "I'm sorry I couldn't do much for you."

"It's alright. You have your job."

He flinched. "And I'm late for it. Just follow Presh; he always knows where to find the Princess."

Presh snorted in agreement.

The three of them exchanged more clumsy farewells before Presh padded away, leading Annabeth towards the main body of the castle. She spared one last glance at Malon, sure that she would be getting started with the horses.

She was standing in front of the stables, watching as Annabeth left.

xxx

Presh had to nip at her heels several times to keep her on track; oh, how Annabeth wanted to explore the castle! Those overhangs, those spires — each and every facet of the place was perfection. She itched for her sketchbook, though she couldn't draw in these circumstances. If not from the weight of her duty, then the rain.

Wherever Presh was taking her, it was a hike. She passed several more people on the way, though they dismissed her as soon as they saw her canine escort. She wondered how normal it was that the castle dog randomly picked up strangers.

At long last, he stopped at a tall cluster of bushes and crouched within them. He glanced cautionary at Annabeth, clearly urging her to do the same. Ever the dog lover, she did.

And then she heard the voices.

Annabeth reached through the branches, giving herself enough of a window to see but likely not be seen. Presh had led her to a small garden or courtyard. Bricks with climbing vines and tall bushes like their lined the area, the far end an opening into the castle. Stepping stones reached from there to a quaint gazebo in the middle, where someone in a black cloak stood, their back turned to Annabeth. In front of them kneeled another woman, presumably a knight by her uniform, her eyes shamefully downcast.

"I just don't understand why you would leave so suddenly, Lady Ginaea," the cloaked figure said. Annabeth felt like someone had snapped a rubber band in her ears. That voice . . . it wasn't familiar, exactly, but feminine and enrapturing. Like Annabeth had an ingrained instinct to listen to her.

The knight's shoulders sagged lower. "I'm sorry, Your Highness, but I heard so rather . . . worrying whispers about Akkala. I-I wanted to be sure that they weren't true."

Your Highness? Annabeth never liked guessing, but was it possible that this woman was . . . ?

"You said you were here from the citadel," she noted softly. "Something bad has happened there." It wasn't a question."

"I'm not sure, Your Highness. But whatever it was" — she straightened, looking her in the face — "it was enough for General Cheinman to place a trade embargo. No one is allowed within the boundaries. They sent me away as soon as I arrived."

The woman flinched. "You are sure of this?"

"Absolutely. Your Highness, do you think that—"

"—the Yiga are responsible?" She shuddered, her cloak rippling around her. "I can't say without proof, but given the circumstances. . . ."

The knight bowed her head again. "Your Highness, I cannot apologize enough for my insolence. I should have spoken to you before I left. It was selfish of me."

"You are the least selfish person in this entire castle, Lady Ginaea," she reprimanded, though no weight punctured her words. "But if you feel so guilty about it, I might just have something you can do for me."

"Anything, Your Highness."

She flicked the edge of her hood. "I doubt that the citadel knights will turn you away if I write a personal letter to General Cheinman. I can have something ready for you by morning. In the meantime, you relax and get dry. You are excused."

The knight dipped her head. "Thank you, Your Highness." She disappeared into the door at the end of the courtyard, her armor winking out in the distant dark.

Annabeth glanced at Presh, suddenly rather embarrassed about what she was doing. What was she supposed to do now — walk out of the bushes and say hi? She had just eavesdropped on what seemed to be a heavy conversation about a dire situation. That wasn't exactly the best introduction.

The woman sighed as soon as the knight left, then stepped carefully off the gazebo. She pulled her hood away as she did, and Annabeth immediately knew why the knight was so mannered.

She was gorgeous — an ethereal beauty, and no younger than Annabeth. Her eyes, green as moss, were angled and brilliant, her nose thin and downturned. Her curly hair, brown as clay, was woven in a thick, elaborate braid behind her, two twin tendrils dripping from her forehead to her collarbone. If that crown on her head wasn't enough to indicate her position, her countenance was. She was a princess, no doubt about it.

Annabeth watched in shocked awe as the Princess walked away from the gazebo, staring thoughtfully at one of the brickwalls. Suddenly, she craned her neck upwards, closing her eyes as the rain rolled off of her face. She looked so serene that way, so resigned. As if the rain could draw something out of her and lay it to rest in the dirt, never to wear away at her again.

But Annabeth was too interested; she leaned forward too far, and a twig snapped under her weight. Just as quickly, she drew her hand away. Even so, the princess heard her.

"Who's there?" she asked, her voice cutting straight through the downpour. "It's no use hiding."

Thank the gods for Presh. The dog sprang from the bush and into the courtyard, loping unseen towards the woman. Annabeth heard her sigh with relief.

"Oh, it's only you. You need to be more careful, Precious."

He only barked in reply. Through a small opening in the leaves, Annabeth could see him peeking past the Princess's dress. What a little tattle tale he was!

Annabeth saw no use in it anymore, anyway. Better to rip the bandaid off quickly, right? she thought to herself. Even so, she refused to look up as she emerged from her hiding place.

Finally, she straightened, looking the Princess dead in the eye where she stood, secretly hoping that she didn't look too awful. Whatever she expected, this wasn't it; the Princess watched her patiently, though part of her seemed to be somewhere else entirely.

"Your Highness," Annabeth addressed, unfamiliar with the new admonition in her voice, "I think you and I have a lot to talk about."

The Princess sighed like she was expecting her all along. She swept her arm towards the table underneath the gazebo. "Take a seat. Tell me, how do you feel about tea?"

End of Chapter 9

Wowee, I can't believe I got this finished so soon! I can't tell you how many roadblocks I hit.

On a much better note, I'm doing well on the webcomic! I'm scripting out Chapter 2 again (I had trouble on Link's POV), and I've finally finalized a design for Zelda! I just need to figure out how to draw everyone else . . . especially Annabeth and Link. I'm having so much trouble with those two. Those scoundrels!

I hope everyone has a nice day :).