Zelda the Grey Quiet One

Book 1 – Of Butterflies and Elves

Chapter Six – Gold Trimmed Jacket

Summary: I'm nothing like my sister. While she's out and about exploring the wilderness. I spend most of my days huddled around the fireplace reading books, watching DVDs, snuggling Twig, and all in all being a smol couch potato. When ideas of moving to the city popped up, she was distressed, while I was apathetic.

*~~oOo~~*

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Cash Register

Beep.
Beep.
Beep.

The sound drones on like a broken rhythm, each beep signalling another slow step in the never-ending procession of items along the conveyor belt to the cash register.

Johanna sighs, glancing down the line of carts and baskets ahead, a faint whiff of dust, paint, and metal mixing into the stale, humid air of the hardware store. She shifts from foot to foot, half-wishing she'd brought a book for entertainment.

She's third in line, with her own cart nearly full of everything she needs to repair her house whole.

Beep.

The store clerk—a slouched teenager—barely lifts his eyes as he lazily moves each item under the scanner, then halfheartedly nudges it toward the bagging area. The clerk lets out a low sigh, a little too loud, as he tries scanning another item.

Beep.

He squints when the price doesn't show up.

Beep

"Sorry, folks," he says, scratching the back of his neck as the scanner blinks red. "I think I'll need to grab a new one off the shelf. This barcode's not working." Without waiting for a response, he wanders back down the aisle, leaving the counter unmanned.

Johanna and the others in line collectively groan, each muttering their own impatience. "Oh, come on!" someone mutters loudly from the back.

With a long, drawn-out exhale, Johanna runs a hand through her chestnut-brown hair, her fingers drifting to the hem of her maroon sleeve, which she fidgets with absently as she goes over her cart items once again.

A couple of wooden planks, a fresh can of paint, a hefty sack of nails, a bottle of new varnish, and even an order for glass panes to be delivered directly to her cabin... check, check, and check.

She barely manages to stifle a sigh as the store's fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a weary yellow glow over the scene.

Fishing around in her pocket for her wallet, she sneaks a glance at her total. I just hope I have enough to cover all this, she thinks, biting back a flicker of worry.

After another minute of waiting, the store clerk finally returns, and the insufferable beeping of the scanner resumes—though the pace is still agonizingly slow.

A sigh escapes the woman behind Johanna, her gaze fixed longingly on her phone. "Should've just gone to Betsy Roze's Supply Shop," she mutters. "A ten-minute drive would've been better than wasting half my day in this line."

Betsy Roze? I've never heard of it before, is it new?

"Yep, it's that new hardware store, popped up last month. Had the grand opening and everything." The woman tells Johanna, surprising her.

Did I actually say that out loud?

"Yep, loud and clear!" The woman chuckles. "Don't worry, we've all been there."

At that, a flicker of embarrassment rises in Johanna's cheeks, and she stammers a bit, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh—uh, sorry. I'm used to talking to myself whenever I'm alone in the house," she admits.

"Used to it?" The woman raises a brow, her tone teasing. "What, no husband or partner at home to share your thoughts with?"

The word husband stirs something in Johanna—a faint but unmistakable tension that flickers across her face. Seeing this, the woman's expression softens. "Sorry, that was rude of me. Didn't mean to pry."

"No, no, it's alright," Johanna replies, exhaling slowly. "It's… complicated. Let's just say, you're not entirely wrong in your assumption, but I'd never let that indecisive man put a ring on me—not after everything."

She holds back from saying more, the familiar, practised restraint from her boarding school days kicking in.

"Preach it, girl," The woman says, though her expression softens with empathy. "My husband's practically married to the harbour these days. Out all hours, hauling fish, drinking at the tavern… who knows what else. Meanwhile, it's just me managing our teenage son, Finn. He's in that phase, you know?" She rolls her eyes good-naturedly, letting out a sigh. "Try keeping a lid on all that in a cramped flat while his dad's out at sea. It's… well, let's just say it's a lot."

Johanna nods, smiling sympathetically. "I get it. I've got two daughters myself—twins. Half the time, I'm just keeping them from tearing each other's hair out." She sighs, though there's a warmth in her eyes. "But I wouldn't change it for anything."

She never said those words out loud to anyone before.

"One kid is already a handful, but two? That's like managing a circus," The woman chuckles, clearly amused. "How old are they?"

"Eleven," Johanna answers.

"Mine's turning fifteen soon, and I'll tell you now, at that age, deodorant are must-have if you want to keep living together in a cramped apartment," The woman says, shuddering with a laugh.

"Good to know I've still got a bit of time before that stage," Johanna laughs back.

"Girl, cherish these precious innocent years while they last. My mum used to say kids change before you know it. I was a terror as a teen—can't imagine what two girls could be like." The stranger grins a glint of nostalgia in her eyes.

"Believe me, I'll make the most of it," Johanna replies with a smile.

They share a brief moment of mutual understanding, both nodding as if silently toasting to the strange joys of motherhood.

"Johanna," she says, extending a hand warmly.

"Verene. Pleasure," the woman dubbed Verene replies, shaking Johanna's hand with a firm but friendly grip.

Verene, Johanna notes, appears to be about her age but with a flair that makes her stand out—a polished, white jacket with gold trims over a fitted formal outfit that highlights her figure.

Caucasian, blonde hair, clearly dyed, reveals a hint of black roots, giving her a distinct, slightly edgy look. She's a few inches shorter than Johanna, but the way she carries herself adds an air of confidence and style.

"So, what school do your kids go to?" Verene asks, slipping her phone into her bag, clearly more interested in the conversation now than in her screen. "Mine's enrolled at Edmund Ahlberg High School,"

With the ice broken, Johanna relaxes a bit, finding it easier to share a few snippets of her life with Verene.

"Oh, they're not actually enrolled in any school," She answers. "We live pretty far out in the wilderness, so I homeschool them as best as I could."

Verene raises her eyebrows. "Blimey, homeschooling in the wilderness with twins?!—That's no small feat! I don't know how you do it," she says, a hint of admiration in her tone. "If you don't mind me asking… why not move closer to the city?"

A gentle pride flickers in Johanna's eyes as the next words flow out of her mouth. "Our cabin's been in the family for generations. It's filled with memories—every room, every creaky floorboard," she says.

"Sometimes, sure, the thought of moving closer to the city comes up, especially when things get... well, challenging. But there's a comfort there, a life we've built together that's hard to imagine giving up."

Verene, raised in the heart of the city with its constant hum and bustle, tilts her head thoughtfully, trying to wrap her mind around the appeal of life so far from it all. She nods, albeit slowly.

"Can't say I totally get it, but... I respect it," she says, before pivoting the conversation. "So, tell me about these twins of yours."

"Oh, those two couldn't be more different," Johanna chuckles, a warm gleam in her eyes. "Hilda's the bold one, constantly out and about, exploring every corner of the wilderness and dragging back all kinds of peculiar things she can find.

And Zelda, on the other hand, is perfectly content curled up indoors with her books or cartoons—she's recently gotten into this whole 'anime' thing. They keep me on my toes, that's for sure."

The two share a chuckle.

"My Finn… I'll be honest, sometimes he's a right slob. Can't seem to get him to pick up after himself, but he's a bright lad. Does well in school and—oh! Recently got into football!" Her eyes gleam with pride as she pulls out her phone. "I'm telling you, he's a natural. That boy is going to be a star on the field!"

Johanna leans in, watching as Verene plays a video of a teenage boy, his hair a natural blonde unlike his mum's, dribbling down a wide pitch. He manoeuvres past a few other kids, then winds up and kicks, sending the ball soaring straight into the goal. The team erupts in cheers, piling on Finn in a celebratory huddle.

"Why he's got talent!" Johanna says in earnest.

Verene hums. "And that's just with his mates in the park! Starting this school year, he's hoping to join the local team."

"Well, I'll be rooting for him. Hope he makes it," Johanna replies warmly.

"Aw, thank you," Verene says. "How about your kids? Any of them into sports?" She follows up, allowing Johanna to show off her kids in turn.

Johanna pauses, her fingers slipping into her bag. She doesn't have one of those modern pocket computers that holds entire albums of photos, but she does have her trusty wallet. Fishing out a slightly worn picture, she holds it up with a small, proud smile.

"Not quite sports, but one of them—Hilda, my fierce one—might as well be an athlete with how much she's out and about. If adventuring into the woods every day counts as a sport, she's a champion."

"Oh, she's open to trying just about anything. Curious as ever. One time, I caught her with my clippers, ready to shave her hair off. Said she wanted to see what it's like to grow it all back from scratch. Can you imagine?"

This elicits a chortle from the woman. Johanna chuckles along but quickly shifts gears. "Then there's her twin, Zelda. Younger by a few minutes, but you wouldn't guess it with how different they are."

"Ha, classic twin dynamic," Verene quips, leaning back slightly to listen.

"Exactly. Zelda's not the adventurous type—not by a long shot. She wouldn't last a mile before needing a break," Johanna says with a wry grin.

"Ooh, you've got to fix that," Verene tuts, wagging a finger.

"I plan to! You can't survive the wilderness with magical creatures if you can't run," Johanna jokes back, though there's a flicker of seriousness beneath her words.

She sighs softly, her expression softening. "But what Zelda lacks in physical energy, she more than makes up for with her mind. She's level-headed, always calm—well, except when she's bickering with her sister. And she's so helpful around the house. Honestly, I'd be lost without her."

Verene raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Oh, I already envy you. Mind a trade?"

"Pass," Johanna laughs, shaking her head. "But really, she's a godsend. When Hilda's off exploring, Zelda keeps me company. She's the one who helps fix up dinner when I'm buried in design work. And those quiet evenings with her, sitting on the couch by the fire, reading books together... I treasure those moments."

Verene hums, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "You're making it sound like you've got a perfect kid there, Johanna. Careful, I might start taking notes."

Johanna smiles, but there's a flicker of modesty in her eyes. "I'm no expert. I just do my best. I try to give them both the love and care they deserve—that's all."

Verene leans back, crossing her arms as if weighing Johanna's words. "I'd love to meet this daughter of yours one day. She sounds like a gem."

"Maybe someday," Johanna replies, her tone warm but cautious.

Verene's gaze shifts, subtly assessing Johanna's attire with an almost mischievous glint in her eye. "Speaking of gems..." she begins, clearly about to steer the conversation into new territory.

"Now, don't think I'm overstepping, but… a mum as lively as you, don't you think she could use a little splash of something special?" She nods toward Johanna's maroon sweater.

"I don't follow?" Johanna owlishly blinks.

"Girl, I don't mean to be rude, but your outfit... it's just, well, so plain. It's a crime to hide all those lovely curves," She lightly teases.

Johanna freezes, eyes widening for a second, and her cheeks bloom a soft pink. She shifts awkwardly, smoothing the hem of her maroon sweater as if the fabric itself might offer some kind of explanation.

"I... I like to keep it simple," she says, shrugging, voice almost apologetic.

"I'm not, you know, looking to turn heads or anything." She glances down at herself, the plainness of it all suddenly more obvious.

"And I'm not much for shopping, to be honest. Out in the wilderness most of the time, you know? Don't really have the time or the need for all that." She's rambling a bit, unsure whether to defend her choices or just laugh it off.

Verene lets out a dramatic sigh. She stands up straighter, tugging at the collar of her crisp white jacket. "Well, that's a shame," she says, her gaze now sweeping over Johanna, "You've got all this potential, and here you are... covered up like you're hiding under a rock. I swear, if I had those curves, I'd flaunt 'em. Life's too short not to."

Johanna smiles faintly, the compliment somehow feeling like a distant echo, something she's not quite used to hearing. She glances at Verene's outfit—sharp, glamorous, the kind of thing you'd wear to an event where everyone's watching.

"Well," Johanna says, a little self-conscious, "I wouldn't say the same for you. You look absolutely fabulous." Her eyes flick to Verene's sleek, white jacket, the way it hugs her figure, the gold accents that catch the light. "I couldn't pull that off, not in a million years."

Verene beams. She gives her a little twirl, the fabric of her jacket flaring out. "Oh, stop it. You're too kind!" She clasps her hands together, eyes sparking with excitement as an idea pops into her mind.

"But honestly, Johanna, you need to spice your wardrobe up," Verene exclaims, her eyes lighting up with a spark of inspiration. She glances at the slow-moving queue, then back at Johanna with a grin. "Ooh, I know! You free after this?"

Johanna gestures to her cart, piled high with repair supplies, and offers a faintly apologetic smile. "I'm afraid I've got a full day ahead. Repairs don't wait."

Verene pouts dramatically, throwing a hand to her chest as if the news has wounded her. "Aw, you're breaking my heart! I had it all planned in my head—window shopping downtown, hitting all the posh boutiques, trying on outfits. We'd make a proper day of it. You'll see, Johanna, we'd find something that'd have you strutting like a brand-new woman."

Johanna's lips twitch into a polite smile, the kind that balances between amusement and the urge to politely decline. "I'm not so sure I'm ready for a full transformation, Verene. It sounds... ambitious."

"Ambitious? It sounds fabulous, is what it sounds like," Verene counters, her voice practically glowing as if she's already envisioning Johanna in a sleek new outfit. "One day of shopping with me, and I guarantee you'll be hooked. We'll turn heads left, right, and centre. Trust me."

Johanna shifts her weight slightly, a faint warmth creeping into her cheeks. She leans back just a touch, as though the idea itself is both alien and strangely appealing. "Maybe... but not today. Let's say at a later time, perhaps."

Verene's face brightens like a child promised sweets. "Then it's a date! Your next trip to the city, no kids, no distractions—just us and the best shops in town. We'll make it a day to remember."

Johanna chuckles softly, the sound easing the edges of the moment. "Alright, alright, fine. We'll see what happens," she says, though there's a flicker of genuine amusement in her tone.

"Mark my words, Johanna," Verene beams, clapping her hands together. "You won't regret it!"

Kra-koom

*~~oOo~~*

Rainy Pass

Shrieks and startled yelps echo through the hardware store as a deafening crack of thunder splits the air. Everyone flinches, some clutching their carts or bags instinctively. The storm outside descends with a vengeance, rain hammering down in heavy sheets that transform the streets into rivers within moments. People rush for cover, some spilling into the hardware store, shaking off water and dripping onto the floor.

"Well, that's just brilliant," Verene mutters, crossing her arms as she glares at the ensuing storm outside. "The news mentioned a weather spirit passing through, but of course, they didn't bother with specifics." She shakes her head in annoyance.

Johanna doesn't reply. She stands motionless, her expression shifting from mild surprise to growing dread. Her hands grip the edge of the cart as her breathing quickens.

"Johanna? What's wrong?" Verene's voice softens, her brows knitting together as she catches the pale look on her friend's face.

"My daughters," Johanna whispers, barely audible over the din of rain pounding against the shop's roof and windows. She blinks rapidly, trying to focus. "They're out there... in this." Her arm limply gestures to the harrowing chaos.

Listlessly and without hesitation, Verene watches as Johanna abandons her cart and bolts straight out of the door.

"Johanna, wait!" She calls after her, but her words are swallowed by the storm as Johanna plunges outside into the unforgiving storm.

Ding-ding

Outside, the chill slaps Johanna skin instantly, the air heavy with the scent of wet concrete and oil. Rain batters against her coat, icy needles soaking through in seconds as she stumbles onto the slick pavement.

Verene leans against the shop window, her breath fogging up the glass as she cranes her neck to get a better look outside. A few curious shoppers shuffle beside her, murmuring among themselves as they peek out too.

Through the blur of rain cascading down the window, she barely catches a glimpse of Johanna's figure before it vanishes into the storm.

"Blimey," Verene mutters under her breath, pulling back slightly, her brow furrowing with concern. "She didn't even grab an umbrella..."

The soundscape is deafening—a symphony of chaos. Rain drums against rooftops and gushes down overflowing gutters, pooling into puddles that stretch across the street.

Cars roar past, their tyres slicing through water and sending waves cascading onto the sidewalks. A passing lorry sprays her legs, the cold splash making her wince as she presses onward.

The streets are deserted save for her, a lone figure braving the downpour. Her breath clouds in front of her face, mingling with the hazy mist that blankets the city, blurring the buildings into ghostly outlines.

At the intersection, she dashes forward—

BEEP!

A car's horn cuts through the storm, sharp and sudden. Johanna freezes, her heart hammering as the vehicle screeches past, tyres splashing water onto her legs. She stumbles back, clutching her chest.

"Watch it!" the driver shouts before disappearing into the mist.

Johanna's knees tremble, as she takes a moment to compose herself. She peers into the fog, her hand shielding her face from the relentless rain as droplets sting her eyes. "Where is it?" she murmurs, squinting to make out any semblance of her environment.

The comic book store should be here—somewhere. But the rain blurs everything, turning the world into a grey, formless mass.

The chill seeps through Johanna's sweater, the damp fabric clinging to her as she shivers amidst the storm.

Stupid, reckless.

She curses herself silently. Charging out into this storm without a proper plan, without so much as an umbrella. But turning back isn't an option. Her twins are out here—somewhere—and the thought twists her stomach into knots.

Her chest tightens as her thoughts drift to Zelda.

Her sweet, reserved Zelda, the one who mirrors so many of her own features, yet carries a fragility Johanna can't ignore. Zelda, who never truly healed from the incident.

Johanna knows how storms unravel her youngest twin, tugging at wounds that never fully closed, unearthing a pain she herself has never been able to mend.

"No," Johanna shakes her head, shoving the thought away, but the memory lingers like a thorn.

Her only thread of solace is knowing that Hilda is with her. She clings to the comforting image of her daughters together—Hilda's arm wrapped protectively around Zelda, offering the reassurance she's always been so good at giving.

Just like she taught her.

Beep, beep.

The blaring horn jolts Johanna out of her miserable daze. Through the curtain of rain, a sleek black car edges up to the intersection where she stood, hazards flashing. The passenger window rolls down, revealing Verene, blonde hair glinting even in the dull light, an amused smirk plastered on her face.

"Hey, girl!" Verene nonchalantly calls from the driver's seat as she faces Johanna's exhausted face. "Need a lift?"

She doesn't need to be asked twice.

Soon the soft thud of the car door closing drowns out the pelting rain, and Johanna finds herself in the front seat, dripping onto the leather interior. Verene tosses her a towel with a scoff, though her expression is laced with concern.

"Girl, you're mad! Going out in weather like this? What on earth were you thinking?" Verene scolds with a shake of her head. Though from what Verene garners from Johanna's experssion, she didn't regret it one bit.

Johanna clutches the towel, drying her face and hands with trembling movements. The weight of Verene's words doesn't escape her, but she meets the woman's gaze with tired determination.

"It was reckless, I know. But—my daughters are out there alone in the city. I didn't think, I just moved." she weakly explains, her voice barely above the rumble of the car's engine.

"That's a lousy excuse, and you know it," she snaps, glancing at Johanna out of the corner of her eye. "You could've waited it out! I'm sure your kids are old enough to handle things on their own and stay put."

Johanna stiffens at that, clutching the towel tighter. "Not with my kids, no. You don't know them like I do. Zelda—she's terrified of storms. To the point of breaking down. And I need to be there for her." She firmly says.

The words hang heavy between them, the tension softened only by the rhythmic patter of rain and the hum of the car.

Verene exhales slowly, the sharpness in her expression giving way to something gentler. She doesn't look at Johanna but keeps her eyes on the road as she mutters, "Alright, fine. Where to?"

Johanna blinks, caught off guard by how quickly Verene shifts from scolding to action. The heat in her chest eases slightly, replaced by a flicker of gratitude. "The comic book store," she says after a beat. "That's where they went."

Verene nods once, flicking on the indicator as she carefully navigates the slick streets. "Alright then," she murmurs, her tone lighter now. "Let's find your girls."

The windshield wipers fight valiantly against the deluge, the rhythmic thwack-thwack filling the otherwise quiet space "You owe me for ditching my spot in that queue, by the way," Verene quips.

Johanna glances to her with a grateful look. "I'll make it up to you when we go shopping," she says.

"Deal," Verene chuckles with a wide grin.

*~~oOo~~*

Final Stretch

It didn't take long as the two arrived in front of the Comic bookstore. Verene pulls the car up to the curb with a squeak of brakes. The engine hums to a stop, but Johanna doesn't wait. She throws open the car door, barely pausing to glance back at Verene, and steps out into the downpour.

Ding-ding

Johanna barely hears the bell above as she pushes her way into the comic shop. Her entrance was abrupt and commanding. Every head in the store turns towards her, and a collective pause settles.

Her hair clings to her face, and water drips from her sleeves, pooling at her feet as she pants, trying to catch her breath. She sweeps her eyes across the room, scanning the rows of shelves, the scattering of customers, the bright colours of comic covers—but no familiar faces.

"They're not here." The words tumble out in a breathless murmur, the creeping dread in her chest now a suffocating weight.

At the counter, the store manager—a large, burly man with dark skin, a ponytail, and a comic book lazily resting in his hands—looks up, his casual demeanour faltering at the sight of the drenched, frantic woman marching toward him.

"Have you seen two girls in here? Twins. One has blue hair, the other brown—same height, similar features. They'd have come in before the storm." Her words come fast, clipped with worry, but the intensity in her tone feels almost like a command.

The manager stiffens, his hands trembling slightly as he lowers his comic. "N-no, ma'am," he stammers, swallowing hard under her piercing gaze. "I don't think anyone matching that description's been here."

"What?!" Johanna's voice rises, her desperation bleeding through as she leans in, making the poor man flinch.

"But—uh—wait!" he blurts out, his voice cracking. "I did see a girl with brown hair earlier! Yes, she came in, caused a bit of a fuss, bought a comic, and left... just before the storm hit."

Johanna freezes. Relief flickers faintly through her chest, but the pounding in her ears drowns it out almost immediately. "Are you absolutely sure? No blue-haired girl with her?" Her voice is sharp, almost accusatory, as she leans forward.

"N-No, ma'am," the man stammers, his large hands fumbling nervously with the counter. "Just her. No one else."

It doesn't take much to piece it together. Hilda left her. After I made her promise not to.

A rare hot flare of anger surges in Johanna's chest, her fists clenching at her sides. Her shoulders tremble as she glares down at the quivering store manager, who shrinks beneath her intense presence.

"That's all I know, I swear!" he sputters, voice wobbling.

Before Johanna can say anything else, a firm yet gentle hand rests on her shoulder. She flinches, turning to find Verene standing behind her, calm and steady as ever. Her expression, however, carries a clear message: Breathe.

Just Breathe… Words she used to say to her daughters, now apply to her.

Johanna exhales shakily, forcing herself to unclench her fists. The heat of her anger fades, replaced by a cold focus. She breathes in deeply and lets it out slowly, her resolve hardening. "They're not here," she mutters, more to herself than anyone else.

"Maybe they're nearby," Verene offers, her voice soothing but practical. "Or they could've taken shelter somewhere along the way. For all we know, they might've even made it back to the hardware store." She chuckles softly, trying to lighten the mood.

But Johanna doesn't laugh.

Her gaze drifts to the window, where the storm rages on. Rain lashes against the glass, a torrential curtain that transforms the street into an indistinct blur. The world outside is a haze of grey and relentless motion, and Johanna feels the weight of it pressing on her chest.

"We'll find them," Verene says gently, her voice firm with reassurance. "Don't worry."

"You're right," Johanna finally breathes, though her chest still feels tight. She spins on her heel, heading for the door with renewed urgency. "Let's go find Zelda."

"What about Hild—oh, there she goes," Verene mutters under her breath, watching Johanna stride out into the storm without a backward glance. Shaking her head, she sighs and grabs her keys. "I do hope her daughters didn't inherit this habit of running off willy-nilly," she muses wryly.

Oh, the irony.

Verene sighs, rubbing her temples before pulling out her phone. The exhaustion from the day weighs heavy, but she steels herself. Typing quickly, she mutters under her breath, "Finn, love, Mum's going to be late. Leftovers for dinner, alright? Be good. Bye-bye, darling." With a tap, the message is sent, and she pockets her phone.

Sliding back into the car, she finds Johanna already seated, her posture stiff, fingers gripping her knees. Impatience radiates off her as she stares through the rain-streaked windshield.

"Ready?" Verene asks but doesn't wait for an answer as she starts the engine.

The car rumbles to life, and Verene expertly pulls away from the curb, flicking the indicators. She pushes down on the clutch, shifting gears smoothly before—beep, beep!—she executes a sharp U-turn. The disgruntled honking of other drivers echoes through the storm, but Verene doesn't flinch.

"Sorry, lads," she mutters, adjusting the wipers as they creak rhythmically across the windshield.

Rain pelts down in relentless sheets, blurring the view of the streets ahead. Pools of water ripple under the headlights, casting fragmented reflections of neon signs and streetlights.

Verene casts a glance at Johanna, who's leaning forward slightly, her eyes scanning every alley, awning, and doorway they pass. Her jaw is tight, lips pressed into a thin line.

"No running off into the storm this time, alright?" Verene says firmly, breaking the silence.

Johanna nods curtly, her gaze never wavering from the window. "I just need to find them," she whispers, more to herself than anyone else.

A sudden sneeze breaks through her tension. "Achoo!" Johanna snaps back slightly, startled by her own outburst.

"Bless you," Verene says lightly, her tone balancing between gentle and amused. She keeps one hand steady on the wheel, the other adjusting the defogger. "You'll catch your death, girl," she adds, casting a glance at Johanna.

Johanna doesn't respond, her focus glued to the streets outside. She rubs her nose absently, eyes darting across every dimly lit storefront.

As the car creeps through the rain-soaked streets, it passes a small park wedged between rows of towering buildings—a pocket park you can say. In the middle of it, nearly swallowed by the mist and rain, a tent stands stubbornly against the relentless downpour.

If one were to squint through the haze, they might catch a glimpse of a blue-haired girl cautiously peeking out from the tent's flap, her gaze fixed on the storm as though searching for something—or someone.

Unbeknownst to her, her mother's car glides past, the rain and fog cloaking them from one another.

Both are caught in the same thought, hearts heavy with the same question: where is Zelda?

*~~oOo~~*

End Scene

Chapter Six – Gold Trimmed Jacket

*~~oOo~~*

A/N: This chapter's a couple of days late—blame my laziness. Did you notice how the opening scene repeats some details? That's intentional. If you've ever listened to parents talk, they often repeat the same bits about their kids over and over in one conversation. It's almost like a reflex. I toned it down a bit for the sake of brevity, but the vibe is still there.

Anyway, are you ready for the finale of this trilogy of chapters, all from Zelda's perspective? Leave a review if you want to come out soon, it's already 2k words and halfway done. It introduces some city kids if you know what I mean.

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Est. Word Count: 5400+

Published Date: November 20, 2024

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Reviews

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Leave a Review! My reply will be in the respective chapter you posted the review at! As Fanfic writers, we do this shit for free and in our own volition!

Kudos to: DEV, Tziput13, and MagiDarkness

LydiaCrazzy: "WARNING WARNING WARNING! BEWARE BEWARE"

- Hey guys, please help me report this person. It's clearly a spam account that's been going around the Fanfic Net website, harassing authors. If you want to see what I mean, check out the review tab of this fanfic. I didn't paste their reply here because I don't want it to pollute my work.

DEV: "It was nice to see Johanna have a casual conversation with another adult. We didn't really get much of that in the show, the most was with Aunt Astrid. I like this Verene character too. She's like a decent city mum. She seems like a good friend for Johanna too. And ho boy is Hilda gonna be in trouble by the end of this. I hope to see more soon to see if Zelda is alright."

- I agree, Johanna didn't have much interaction with other adults in the show. I'm glad you liked Verene! She'll just be a background adult character for Johanna to interact with—and maybe do some clothes shopping too. Fun fact, Verene is an OC taken from another Hilda Fanfic of mine, but it's discontinued for the foreseeable future. As for Zelda, who knows if she'll be alright? You'll have to wait and see in the next chapter!