Chapter 5

Hateno Village was just a few hours' walk from the Yiga safehouse. Even though it was dark out on this summer evening, Link wasn't tired. Now that the rain had let up, the clouds were moving away, and stars peeked through. These summer nights were his favorite kind, when the end of the day made its greeting.

Past the safehouse, the dirt path wove its way through forests and cliffs after Fort Hateno. Link passed multiple groups of sleeping bokoblins and moblins. Beehives and birds' nests resided in many of the trees, and he even found the occasional hearty truffle, which made him feel like a million rupees as he devoured them. The taste alone was noteworthy at worst, and divine. He passed no one on his way, but that wasn't surprising. Most people didn't want to go out in the rain and deal with traveling in the mud. Link simply walked in the grass nearby, keeping his eye on the trail. He could deal with mud, but he didn't want to. No need to make more work for himself later.

He arrived at the Hateno Village gate around midnight, from what he could tell. All the inhabitants were inside, though there were a few dogs and cats roaming around. Hateno Village was bigger than he thought it would be, though that could have been due to the new constructions on the south side of town. Curious, Link walked up a hill to his right as he entered, and wondered who was building the new houses. They looked like they needed more wood supports, though he could see why people would build them. They were certainly fashionable, if not a little too modern for his tastes. Not that he would ever buy one, cursed with the need to constantly travel across Hyrule. He doubted he would ever have a true home at this point—somewhere he could return to when the day was done and his adventuring would be over. That might have existed for him in his past, but it wasn't looking probable now.

He quietly made his way further up the hill. A differently styled house, noticeably much older than the new construction around him, stood across a bridge that spanned across a small stream. The house looked abandoned—no livestock roaming around, no horses pitched under the porch, tall unkempt grass infecting everything around it, growing up as tall as a tree. As he got closer to it, he could see the pitiful trees behind the house, barely hanging on to life. Even though it was summer, the leaves on the trees were dead or dying, yellowed and crisp. The paint on the house had significantly worn away over the years, and many of the wooden beams were rotting. It was apparent from the outside that nobody lived here, so he walked back around to the front door and walk in. The lock had deteriorated, giving him an easy entrance. The door hinges were so worn it didn't even creak when he opened it, but it slumped into place, as if the hinges weren't even there.

With the door open to let the light in, he saw nothing but emptiness. The walls were torn, likely by termites, and the stairs were so flimsy he didn't dare use them to get to the loft. On the walls, there were rectangular spots that were a slightly darker shade than the rest of the walls. A family must have lived in this home at one point, with paintings and pictures on their walls, and they all disappeared long ago. But if this house existed, why was there new construction down the road? Why build more houses when an uninhabited structure stood just beyond them? As Link considered the state of the house, he understood. No one wanted to live in someone else's house of abandoned memories. New house, new start.

Link didn't have that luxury, so he closed the door and wondered how to make himself comfortable. Underneath the slatted stairs, he found a conveniently bundled blanket, so he took it and unrolled it onto the floor. It was full of moth holes, but it was better than nothing. As he lay down on it, he looked up at the ceiling, which was blessedly intact. This place would have been even more stale and soggy if the night's rain had gotten through. There was an old light fixture hanging from the ceiling, and the pulley for it was tied to a post under the stairs. The candles in it were essentially nonexistent, but the glass holders for the candles were still twinkling, as if there was a light shining through them. He furrowed his brows, knowing no starlight or moonlight was coming in through the open windows. He shook his head and realized it wasn't his imagination. The glass was indeed twinkling a dull yellow color. Standing up, he looked around again and saw that there was a glow coming from the loft. Steeling his courage, he climbed up the stairs, praying to Hylia and all the sages that they wouldn't cave in and crash with him on top. They creaked with every careful step, threatening to break. But they held, and he made it to the loft, watching the glowing spot on the floor brighten as he got closer.

It was another memory.

But whose was it this time? His or Shara's?

He touched the light, and a bright white flash consumed his mind, taking him back to the past.

Shara was not in this house, but in the forest outside of town. He'd passed by those trees not an hour ago. Watching her traverse the forest path, Link was impressed by her fortitude. She was wearing thick hiking clothes and a large backpack, as if she had to live out of it. There was a sword strapped to her side, and a bow nestled around her back. Her hair was wrapped up in a traditional Yiga hairstyle, though Link supposed that only other Yiga would know that, so her appearance wasn't out of the ordinary. While she looked just like any other nomad wanderer, Link liked to think he knew her better. She was capable, making her way from the desert to the Shrine, and from there to here all by herself. Mumbling to herself, she used a small hatchet to whack away at dense underbrush. It seemed she wasn't truly using the trail, either. It wasn't muddy this time, but Link could understand wanting to hide easily if there was trouble. Again, Link wished he could help her if she got into a dangerous situation, but she would have to do it alone.

It was daytime now, the sun high in the middle of the sky. Some of the foliage had changed color already, despite summer being in full swing. It must have been at least a month since he'd last seen her at the Shrine. She wiped wisps of brown hair away from her face, but mostly seemed unbothered by her trek.

Rustle in the underbrush a few hundred feet from them caught both of their attention. Shara's ears perked up, and she quietly put her hatchet away, unsheathing her shortsword. She looked around to assess her surroundings: which trees were most climbable, which bushes were most concealing, or which direction of the trail was best for outrunning an enemy. Link knew that face. Well, he didn't remember it, but he could feel it as if he were wearing it himself. He was doing the same thing, and he wasn't even living in this time. Not physically, anyway.

Soon enough, a pack of black bokoblins, with a silver as the leader, slunk out from the trees and gathered on the path, blocking her best way forward. She could either go around them or fight them. Now that they were out in the open, they made their signature snorting noises and banged their weapons against their crude shields, trying to intimidate. Shara narrowed her eyes, and in one glance, Link knew what she would do. A fight was in her future, and she was going to come out the victor.

"It's only three," she whispered to herself, "and they haven't seen me yet. I can sneak up to them and make them wish they'd never been spawned. Poor ugly things won't know what's coming." She crouched and waited, determining the best time to strike. If they would come down the path, she could get behind them, but if they didn't, she'd need to sneak her way up to them instead. She'd rather do the first, because then not only would she be able to sneak attack them, but if she needed to, she could outrun them towards town.

Shara discarded her pack and climbed a large apple tree near the path, settling into a groove to wait. The bokoblins were coming, and she would be ready. More than one branch held beehives, and each was swarming. Shara pulled a hunting knife out of her pack and began sawing the nearest twig with a hive, and it silently snapped off into her hand. The bees hadn't noticed yet, but she wasn't planning on being here when they did.

The bokoblins were nearly underneath her now, and it was time to strike. Lobbing the twig with the hive down to them, she scooted to the opposite side of the tree and began to climb down. When the hive landed, the agitated bees buzzed around the bokoblins, causing them to wail and chaotically flail their arms. The silver bokoblin tried to ignore the bees, and even though it was not unaffected, it didn't flail as much as the black ones. In the chaos, the silver pulled out a whistling reed from a measly pocket from its poor excuse for a loincloth, and with it let out a loud, two-note song. If there were other bokoblins roaming about, this would be their summoning call.

In the fray, and helpless to participate, Link looked around to see if there were indeed any more monsters. Luckily for Shara, there didn't seem to be. If there were, he'd be able to identify them easily—they were not subtle creatures. He turned back to Shara and watched as she shimmied down the tree and used her knife to scrape sap from its trunk. She sniffed it and tested its consistency by prodding it with her fingers. The sticky mess wouldn't come off easily, but she would manage.

While the bokoblins were dancing around, trying to shoo the bees away, they had dropped most of their weapons. Shara crawled low on the ground towards the weapons, which the bokoblins had run away from by a dozen feet in their chaos to avoid the bees. She brought the chunk of sap in front of her and went to work. Gathering the wooden and rusty knives and swords into a bundle, she loaded the sap in between them, then nimbly uncapped her water skin and added its contents to make a paste. Link watched in awe as she essentially glued all of their things together, making them all useless. He was so enamored by what she was doing that he hardly noticed the bokoblins stop their chaos and run back to get their things. The bees were no longer distracting them enough for Shara to have any headway or advantage in their fight. But now, with the gluing task done, she stood up triumphantly, grinning to herself even in danger. Link decided he liked her strength and resourcefulness. Who else would have thought to do that—not just to use nature to disarm the enemy, but to sabotage the enemy's only means of attack to render it useless? Now, they would have to fight in hand-to-hand combat, which Shara had the clear advantage over, with her shortsword at her side. Thinking the same thing, she pulled out her sword and readied her stance. This would be easy.

The bokoblins watched her and slunk towards her eerily, but something behind her caught their gazes instead. Up the path towards town, a man came running towards the fray, a woodcutter's axe in hand.

The man was older than Link and Shara, perhaps in his late thirties. He had a scarred face and skin roughened from days out in the fields. His clothes were simple but functional, and he easily arrived at Shara's side. "Need any help?" he asked, panting. He got into a fighting stance next to her, both hands gripping the axe's handle.

Snorts sounded from the bokoblins, and the creatures growled as they tried to pry their swords away from each other. The silver skipped the weapons altogether, barreling through the blacks as it picked Shara as a target and began throwing rocks in her direction.

She dodged most, but more than one pelted her legs. She powered through the pain, but Link could tell she was irritated. "Yes, please," she answered, her own growl escaping her.

The man went after the blacks as Shara went after the silver, the duo being an impressive sight. One black bokoblin swung the glued swords like a two-handed mace, and the man barely backed out of the way before being pummeled by it. Then the monster prepared a downstroke with the bundle, heaving wearily with both arms, but the man crossed the axe handle in front of himself and blocked the blow. Beside him, Shara was face to face with the silver, one sword in her hand while the monster wielded a wooden spear. It was certainly a more fair fight than before, but Shara was a trained Yiga warrior. Link knew the bokoblin would be no match for her.

Shara swung her sword across the monster's chest, but it swung the spear out, hitting her shoulder. She didn't budge, but she smirked. "What brings you out here?" she asked over the din of the fighting.

"Oh, nothing in particular. I heard the bokoblin reed and assumed there was trouble," the man said beside her, dodging a punch from the unarmed black. He glanced her way, then quickly returned to his own battle. "From the looks of it," he panted, "you don't actually need much help."

Shara twirled to avoid the silver's spear, getting closer to it to thrust the sword at its chest. "Unfortunately," she replied, somewhat out of breath herself, "I usually don't. But I appreciate the sentiment." The black with the sword monstrosity backed into her, and she elbowed it in the back, making it fall to its knees with a cry. She thrust her sword into its back, and it made no more noise or movement.

At this, the silver cried out and prepared to stab her with its spear. Link called out to Shara in his head. "Turn around!"

Of course, she didn't hear his warning, but she turned around by instinct anyway. She grabbed the end of the spear with her free hand and yanked it out of the bokoblin's hand using its own momentum. Then she used the butt end of the spear to hit it in the head, making a terrible crunching noise as it made contact. It fell next to its friend.

When Shara turned around, the man was gripping the last black bokoblin by the arms and then tossed it above and behind him, slamming it into the ground.

They made fighting look easy. As Link watched, he could picture himself next to them, joining them both in battle as comrades. He pictured a time when he could fight side-by-side with Shara, a sister-in-arms, and he wondered if he'd done that before. He knew somewhat about the desert mission that isolated Shara from the clan and had nearly killed him. Were they a good team? He liked to think so.

Bokoblin blood seeped onto the dirt path, mostly coming from the first black one, the one that Shara had elbowed and then slew with her sword. None present shied away. Link watched the black pool in wonder, realizing he wasn't new to this violence. Shara didn't turn away, and neither did the man. None were alarmed or sickened by the sight as they passively looked on. They had all evidently seen their fair share of blood in their pasts. Then the bokoblin bodies disappeared with a black poof.

"Are you going to Hateno?" the man asked casually. "I can take you there. Not that you need help getting there." He turned away from the evidence of the carnage, wiping his axe blade with his shirt.

"I am," Shara answered, walking over to her dropped things. "I have business there."

"Ah, yes," the man said, looking at her large pack. "Are you a merchant?"

With a rag from her pack, Shara wiped the bokoblin blood free from her sword. Then she took out the knife she'd used to scrape the sap from the tree before. It was covered in the stuff; it would be too much work to get it off. She looked at it sadly as she deliberated her answer. "Of sorts."

They began up the path and were in Hateno before Link could blink. They turned right after the gate and went across a bridge to what was now the abandoned house. "I live here. There's an inn in town, but the owner is a miserable hoarder. No room. You can stay here if you'd like. It's just me and my aging mother."

"How is the innkeeper supposed to get business if there's no room? That seems counterproductive," Shara said, nodding towards the house. "I think I'll take you up on that. My name's Shara, by the way."

"Excellent, I'll go on ahead to let Mother know we have a guest. I'm Morgen, and Mom is Talia," he said as he walked into the house.

Instantly, a woman's voice sounded about the house. "A guest? I want to see her. Come in, come in," she beckoned to Shara.

Link followed Shara inside and was greeted by a completely different sight than the house he knew. Pictures were on the walls, food was in the kitchen area, and the space was furnished and free of dust. He almost refused to believe it was the same house. The outside was different as well. Outside, there was a field of sheep, and the trees were full of voluminous leaves.

Shara set her things down and observed her surroundings—one of the first things a warrior did when in a new place. She walked up to the wall of portraits, mesmerized.

"Who is that? In the painting?" she asked. "Is that you, Morgen?"

The painting was against the north wall. It was smaller than the others, which were mostly landscapes. This one was more detailed, intimate. It was a portrait of a young man approximately Shara's age, dressed in castle guard attire, joined at the hip with a blonde woman with her arm around his back. They were standing in some sort of courtyard with a castle wall behind them. Springy bushes bloomed on either side of them, seeming to climb the wall with their tendrils. The woman, young like the man, was smiling from ear to ear, but Link felt like he could see sorrow in her eyes. The man was grinning as well, and the resemblance to Morgen was obvious.

"Who is that next to you?" Shara asked, resting her palm in her hand in curiosity. "She looks familiar somehow."

Morgen walked up to the painting, a longing look in his eyes. "Esta was her name," he said, then glanced at Shara and then back at the painting. "She was my…friend when I was in the castle guard long ago." He struggled to find the right words. It was still a sore memory, even after all the time that had passed.

"When was that?" Shara asked, wanting to comfort him.

"Oh, I don't know," he said, thinking. "Twenty years ago, perhaps. She was...taken from me, and it broke me. I handed in my resignation papers that day."

Link saw a tear start forming in each of their faces.

Shara nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry to hear that." Then she turned around and greeted Talia. "Thank you for letting me into your home."

The vision ended there. With another white flash, Link was back in the rundown house, in his current time. It was a far cry from the love and emotion that used to exist here, but now that he knew who used to live in it, he felt a little better. He sobered as he realized none of the people in the vision were around anymore.

As Link thought about this last vision, something irked him. Something felt a little too familiar about the people in the portrait. He looked at the now bare wall where it used to be, and crept back down the stairs and walked over to it, tracing a faint outline with his fingers. They came back brown with dust. What were their names again? Morgen and Esta. That was her name. Did he know an Esta from his past life? The name nagged at him, a shadow of a memory threatening to drive him mad.

It wasn't until he lay back down on his holey blanket that the thought hit him like a wall of bricks.

He knew who Esta was. Master Gehrik had told him long ago—that a Yiga woman who was his mother had gone on an assignment to the castle and mingled with a soldier there. She came back to the Yiga hideout in the desert, gave birth to Link, and then was thoroughly banished with shame.

The man and woman in the portrait were his parents. This was his father's house. And just like everything else Link had learned or remembered about his past, it was just as empty and forgotten.