The guardian serpent's roar still echoed in their ears as Link, Zelda, and Groose plunged deeper into the forest, their hearts pounding in sync with their frantic footsteps. Thick foliage pressed close, filling their lungs with the scent of damp earth and decay. Every shadow twisted into monsters at the corner of their eyes.
Link looked back, his eyes wide with fear. "We shouldn't have run away," he panted. "We left Ganfar and the others behind."
Zelda forced herself to sound brave as she pulled Link and Groose along. "We had to get away from the snake! We'll find them again, I promise."
"'We can't stay here,' Groose declared, puffing up his chest despite his trembling knees. His eyes fixed on how Zelda supported Link's tired steps. Something shifted in his expression - the same look he wore when smaller children sought shelter behind his bulk during storms.
'Let's keep going.' He moved ahead, deliberately crashing through the brush. 'I'll clear the path,' he announced, though Link noticed how each crash strategically marked the easiest route for them to follow. 'Can't have you two slowing me down.'"
"My grandpa says Shandorians never abandon their own," Groose muttered, half to himself, as he helped Link over a fallen log. His hand lingered supportively longer than necessary. "Even the annoying ones."
The words carried the weight of old stories, spoken in quiet moments. Link recognized that tone - it matched how they spoke of Ganfar's tales of sky knights.
"Guess you're not exactly one of ours," Groose continued gruffly, already reaching back to help Zelda. "But you're... something. Maybe."
The trio pressed forward, their footsteps creating a gentle crunch as they traversed the forest floor covered in fallen leaves. Each step felt heavier than the last as exhaustion set in. Their minds raced with thoughts of the dangers that lurked in the shadows. Link bit his lip raw as he forged ahead. Groose swung at bushes with exaggerated swagger, then jumped at the snap of a twig, his laugh a pitch too high. Zelda alone channeled her focus into each steady footfall. The bow clenched as if ready to battle the forest itself.
The forest's tranquility shattered. A screech knifed through the air - halfway between bird and human, raw with desperation.
"Is that something in trouble?" Groose asked loudly, wondering if the call was from a person.
"We should check it out. It might be a way out of here." Link marched ahead, trembling but determined.
They burst into a clearing and skidded to a halt, their breath catching in their throats. Through the mist, a statue loomed like a guardian - a winged woman with hands outstretched in welcome or warning, Link couldn't tell.
"The goddess Hylia," Zelda whispered. "They say she watches over all her children, even the wingless."
Link couldn't tear his gaze away. The statue's eyes seemed to see right through him, into the secret places where he hid his dreams of flight. For a moment, he forgot the danger, forgot his fear. In the presence of the goddess, anything seemed possible.
A piercing cry jolted Link back to the present. He scanned the trees, heart racing, until he spotted a flash of red amidst the green. A bird, as large as a pony, thrashed against a web of vines high above. Link's chest tightened. He knew what it meant to be trapped.
"Look, food!" Groose excitedly pointed to a cluster of fruits hanging near the bird. One of them had odd swirls and polka dots in an exotic pattern. All three children's tummies rumbled in anticipation.
Zelda barely heard him, her attention fixed on the tangled bird. "It's a crimson loftwing," she breathed. "They're sacred to the goddess Hylia. We have to help it."
She turned to Link, her eyes blazing. "I'll guide you from down here. You're the only one who can reach it."
"I have a crazy idea." Link said, as he gauged the distance between the statue and the tree. He lifted his wooden sword; and began to break up everything he could tie together into a long rope. Groose helped by chopping up the larger pieces with his larger fists. While Zelda scanned the clearing for any dangers that might appear from the forest.
Link's heart pounded as he climbed the statue's rough steps, a far cry from the practice posts he knew. His wooden sword tapped against the stone, a nervous rhythm urging him higher, unraveling his makeshift rope as he reached the statues' palms. He held the rope out to Zelda. "Think you can hit that branch?"
As Link puzzled over the rope's knots, Zelda's fingers quickly wove them into the patterns she'd learned for her father's hunting traps. Their eyes met in shared triumph - her knowledge and his courage forming something stronger than either alone.
Zelda's eyes lit up with delight as she took the rope from Link. Carefully knotting one end into an arrowhead, she notched it into place, drawing back the bowstring with practiced ease. Her gaze followed the arc of her shot, visualizing the path. With a steady breath, she let go.
The arrow sailed through the air in a clean arc before burying itself deep in the bark of a thin branch just above the tangled vines. Giving the rope an experimental tug, Zelda grinned at the others.
"Nice shot!" Groose cheered. His enthusiasm faded as he peered up at the loftwing high overhead. "But uh... who's going to climb that?"
The statue's first step felt different under Link's boots - rougher, realer than the smooth practice posts he'd climbed a hundred times before. Wind pulled at his tunic, each gust a reminder of empty air below. His wooden sword knocked against a stone with each step, marking time like a nervous heartbeat.
Zelda's voice drifted up from below, something about angle and trajectory, but Link's world had narrowed to the next handhold, the next step. The trapped loftwing's wing caught the afternoon light, scattering it like a signal firing through crimson feathers.
He tried not to think about wings, about empty air, about all the ways a wingless boy didn't belong this far above solid ground. The branch creaked beneath his weight - a sound like practice swords splintering during late-night drills.
He could hear Groose bite back a familiar taunting tone. 'If you fall and die wingless wonder, I'll look bad for letting you go first," he called up, voice gruff with poorly hidden concern. His hands had already gathered fallen vines, weaving them into a backup rope with surprising skill. "A real Shandorian would've done this way faster, but... not terrible. For you.'"
The rope cut into Link's palms as he hauled himself skyward, one burning grip after another. The branch beckoned, impossibly far. His arms trembled. Another pull. The trapped loftwing's eyes fixed on him, willing him closer. Carefully, he drew his wooden sword and sawed through the vines.
Link's fingers brushed the fruit's speckled skin as he sawed at the vines. The loftwing's eyes met his, a silent plea for trust.
The branch groaned under his weight. A gust whipped through the treetops. Crack! The wood splintered, leaving Link suspended by a single twisted fiber, the ground yawning beneath his feet. With a last tug, the vines snapped, sending Link, the loftwing, and a shower of fruit tumbling toward the ground.
For one endless moment, Link hung suspended between earth and sky. The ground yawned below, promising all his childhood fears made real. But the loftwing moved like it had been waiting for this moment - not away, but toward. Its wings spread not in escape but in answer, and suddenly they were moving together, each making up for what the other lacked.
The loftwing tucked its wings and dove. Crimson feathers flashed like signal fires as its talons found Link's tunic with surgical precision. Each wingbeat fought their descent as its claws scraped desperate holds in the crumbling bark.
Groose lunged forward, snatching a fruit from the air. "I've got you!" he yelled, just as the loftwing's wings snapped open, halting Link's fall.
When their feet found earth again, Link's hands had stopped trembling. The loftwing's feathers felt warm under his fingers, familiar somehow, like touching a memory he hadn't known he'd forgotten.
"You need a name," he whispered. The bird's feathers caught the late afternoon sun, turning them the color of dawn. "Crimson."
Groose let out a whoop of relief, grabbing Link and Zelda in a fierce hug that quickly turned into a victory dance. He spun them around, blinking back tears.
"See? Told you I'd get us through! Though," he added, watching Link tend to the loftwing's wing, "guess you didn't do so bad yourself. For a wingless kid." The nickname carried a new tone - less mockery, more marking of the tribe. His stomach chose that moment to rumble, breaking the tension with honest humor.
"Heroes need food," he declared, reaching for the fruit. 'Even temporary ones." The fruit's skin thrummed against Groose's palm like a trapped heartbeat. Sweet-sharp scent made his nose tingle. One bite, and his scalp began to fizz. His triumphant grin quickly turned to horror as he felt the first tickle on his neck. ,"Blah, what is this thing?" he choked.
Red curls sprouted past Groose's ears like rebellious weeds. Then came the wave - a tsunami of hair that swept up his face, down his neck, until only muffled wails marked where their friend had been. Groose's hair exploded like red clouds at sunset, reaching for the sky with the same desperate energy they'd used to flee the guardian.
"My gorgeous pompadour, ruined!" Groose wailed, his voice muffled. Link bit back a nervous laugh as Zelda gingerly picked at the spillage, nose wrinkled in disgust, eyes heavy with concern at this strange magic.
Strange fruits that bestowed dark powers... Link's stomach clenched as half-forgotten warnings surfaced. But watching Groose battle another explosion of red hair, nervous giggles bubbled up instead of fear. Despite the gravity of Groose's predicament, they could not hold their amusement at his lamentations over his ruined pompadour.
As the rescue party's voices grew louder, Link, Zelda, and Groose huddled closer together, their earlier adventure having forged an unspoken bond. Zelda, her eyes shining with unshed tears, reached out her hands. 'We've been through so much today,' she said, her voice barely above a whisper. 'Let's promise to always be there for each other, no matter what.'
Link nodded solemnly, placing his hand atop Zelda's. 'Through sky and cloud, I promise,' he said, his youthful voice filled with conviction.
Groose hesitated, his usual bravado faltering. Then, with a deep breath, he added his hand to the pile. 'Even if my hair tries to get in the way,' he joked, earning small chuckles from the others. 'I promise too.'
Their hands met as a gust swept through the clearing, scattering sky flower petals across their joined fingers. Link felt the weight of their promise settle like his first set of training armor - heavy with meaning. Three paths converging into one, just as the ancient beanstalk's roots merged before reaching skyward.
Link's hand tightened around the hilt of his wooden sword, no longer just a toy but a symbol of the courage he'd discovered within himself. "We did it," he breathed, a note of wonder in his voice. "We really did it."
Zelda nodded, her golden braids catching the dappled sunlight. "We're stronger together," she said, her eyes shining with newfound wisdom. "But I think... I think this is just the beginning."
Groose ran a hand through his wild, overgrown hair, a rueful grin on his face. "Well, if this is how we start, imagine what we'll be like when we're grown up!"
"Branches parted like a curtain as Ganfar emerged, pride battling worry on his weathered face. 'Link!' The word was half battle cry, half prayer as he swept his grandson into his arms.
"You've faced your first real challenge," Ganfar said, his voice gruff with emotion. "But there are many more to come. Are you ready to begin your true training, Link?"
Link straightened, his chin lifting with determination. "I am," he said, his voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in his stomach.
Ganfar nodded, then turned to include Zelda and Groose in his gaze. "All of you have shown great potential today. The road ahead will not be easy, but I believe you have what it takes to face the trials that await." Ganfar chuckled softly, a bittersweet pang in his chest as he realized the weight of the path he was setting them on.
Before leaving, Link turned to Hylia's statue one last time. Her stone's smile held mysteries, like a mother holds secrets - waiting for the right moment to share them. The crimson Loftwing circled overhead, a reminder of the bond forged in danger and trust.
"Until we meet again," Link whispered to the bird, a promise in his words.