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Chapter Text

They sat atop the cliff behind Wild’s house, dim lantern-light of Hateno Village at their backs. White moonlight bounced along the waves of the inky sea spread below them. Twilight surreptitiously glanced at his protégé, whose waxy scars and bright blue eyes shimmered in the moon’s glow. Wild’s face was pinched in concentration as he scanned the clear night sky, and Twilight couldn’t help the fond smile that crept onto his own.

Eyes still trained upwards, Wild leaned towards him. “Okay, you see that big, bright one right there?”

Twilight scooted closer, trying to determine where Wild was pointing. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay, so. That one is the eye of a blupee. If you look right above it, there’s a couple of stars that form one ear and…” Wild trailed off, squinting at the stars suspiciously. “Hmm, you know what? It actually might be that big, bright one over there.”

“Are you sure? What about that one?” Twilight teased, pointing in an entirely different direction.

Wild huffed. “I can’t remember! I only skimmed Purah’s star chart. Maybe she’ll let me borrow an astronomy book.”

“I’m sure she will.” Twilight picked a stray leaf out of Wild’s hair, although the younger boy didn’t seem to notice…or maybe he had simply grown used to his mentor’s preening.

Wild shrugged and flopped onto his back, folding his arms beneath his head. Waves splashed on the shore below them and cicadas chirruped from nearby trees, but otherwise it was quiet. A perfect summer night, Twilight thought, reveling in the serenity. He watched the stars twinkle, mentally connecting them together in imagined constellations.

The moon had ascended quite a bit before Twilight looked down at Wild again. Wild’s eyes were closed and his lips slightly parted, his breathing even and slow.

Twilight reclined on his side, propped on an elbow, and softly touched Wild’s shoulder as he whispered, “Hey, kiddo. Let’s go inside.”

Not opening his eyes, Wild hummed an acknowledgment. “Why?”

“You’re falling asleep.”

“Hmm… I’m not.”

“Sure.” Twilight considered tickling him awake, but decided he didn’t want to disturb the drowsy, peaceful mood. Instead, he squeezed Wild’s shoulder. “Don’t you want to sleep in your bed? This is the first night we’ve spent at your house in months.”

“You can have the bed,” Wild mumbled, but he sat up, rubbing his half-closed eyes.

“Want me to carry you?” Twilight said it like a joke, even though he was perfectly willing to haul Wild up onto his back for a ride home.

Wild seemed to consider the idea before saying, “Nah, I’m good.”

Twilight stood and helped pull Wild to his feet, and they trekked sluggishly down the cliff to Wild’s cozy house. Neither of them bothered with igniting a lantern as they entered, leaving the house enrobed in comfortable darkness.

“Good night,” Twilight said. He headed for his pack and started to unfurl his bedroll. On the infrequent occasions they had spent the night at Wild’s house during their journey, Twilight usually arranged his bedroll in the wide alcove by Wild’s stairs, letting the younger boy have the semi-privacy of the loft.

When he realized his protégé hadn’t moved, Twilight looked over his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing.”

Twilight raised a skeptical eyebrow when the sleepy kid didn’t budge. “Nothing, huh? You’re thinking about something. I can tell, even though you don’t have that expression often.”

Wild half-smiled, then looked away. “No, it’s nothing. I was just thinking about how you were in wolf form a lot when we camped for the night. And so we kind of, uh… We slept, like… Um, I kind of used you like a pillow?”

“We cuddled,” Twilight offered. Even in the dark, Twilight could tell from Wild’s expression that he was blushing.

“N-no, I wouldn’t say cuddled, just, uh… Well, anyway, I was thinking how things are so different now, with the Calamity gone, and, um… Anyway. It’s nothing. I’m tired, so…good night.”

Twilight watched Wild climb the stairs to his loft. He heard rustling, presumably as Wild changed his clothes and got into bed.

When it was quiet again, Twilight changed his own clothes, grabbed his pillow, and made his way upstairs to find Wild lying on his back under the sheets, staring blankly at the ceiling. He looked over when Twilight appeared.

“What’s up?”

Twilight chucked the pillow at Wild’s face, earning a startled squeal.

“You said I could have your bed,” Twilight said matter-of-factly, “so I’m taking it.”

Wild tossed the pillow back, hitting Twilight’s chest. “Seriously? If you wanted my bed, you should have let me sleep outside. But whatever, I can take your bedro—hey!”

Twilight collapsed onto the bed, pressing against Wild’s side and lightly whacking him with the pillow again.

Wild smacked the pillow away and Twilight laughed. “At least wait for me to leave first, gee! Were you raised by wolves or something?”

“Ha ha, that’s hilarious,” Twilight said, rolling his eyes dramatically.

Wild lifted the sheets, preparing to get up, but Twilight yanked them back down across both of them.

“Okay, I’m amending my earlier declaration,” Twilight said.

“What?”

“I’m not taking your bed. I’m taking half of it.”

Wild blinked at him in confusion. “…What?”

“Half the bed,” Twilight said with a flourishing gesture. “I get one half, you get one half.”

When this finally sank in to his tired mind, Wild looked mildly horrified. “Wh-what? This bed isn’t big enough for two people.”

“Seems big enough.”

“It’s really not.”

“I think it is. And now I bid you good night.”

“Seriously?”

In response, Twilight rolled over to face away from Wild, ensuring they weren’t touching. He expected more protestations, but instead, after a minute, Wild settled down again. Twilight smiled at his victory.

He was almost asleep when he felt the most tentative of touches on his back. He twitched involuntarily, and the touch disappeared. After a moment, it returned, and he forced himself not to stir. Wild gently spread a hand across Twilight’s shoulder blade, then slid it down to his side, where he grasped Twilight’s tunic. The sheets rustled as Wild scooted a little closer, and Twilight felt the kid press against his back, brush a knee against his leg.

When Wild gave a small, contented sigh, Twilight smiled to himself and did the same.

Chapter Text

The grass was damp after an earlier rain shower, but Wolfie didn’t mind. He was curled under a tree, safely tucked in the cloak of night, watching fireflies lazily flicker through cozy Kakariko Village. He heard a door sliding open and looked to the thatch-roofed house next to which he rested. Wild emerged, a wrapped parcel in hand. Taking the cue, Wolfie stood, stretched, and sauntered to his protégé, who was saying good-bye to the old man and two children crowded in the doorway.

“Bye bye, Wolfie!” the little girls called to him, waving. Earlier, they had been balls of pure energy, bouncing on him and tugging at his ears and tail, but it seemed the day’s activities had worn them out. Wolfie nosed their outstretched palms, earning delighted giggles, before he and Wild started towards the nearby inn.

Having rented a room earlier that evening, Wild politely greeted the innkeep and led Wolfie up the stairs. Normally animals weren’t allowed in such places, but exceptions were made for the Hero and his tame wolf. He had been accompanying Wild for many months now, so the villagers were (mostly) used to his presence.

Once they were in their small room, Wild plopped onto the bed, setting his parcel next to him. The only light came from the moon, but Wolfie could still see Wild’s smile and the pleasant pink tinge his cheeks carried after a happy evening.

Wild began to pry a boot off as Wolfie transformed. As soon as he regained his voice, Twilight said, “Is that cake for me?” He pointed at the package next to Wild.

“Cottla offered me an extra slice to take home,” Wild answered. “Me, not Wolfie.” He playfully flung his boot at Twilight, who easily dodged and rolled his eyes.

“I was stuck outside by myself all night while you partied, and this is how you treat me?” Twilight faked a pout, earning a laugh from Wild and another boot thrown his way.

“Quit your dramatics. You can have it.” Wild produced a plate and fork from his Slate, which Twilight gleefully accepted. He carefully unwrapped the cake—fluffy and white and stuffed with all sorts of fresh fruit—and took a bite.

“Wow, that little Koko made this? She might be a better cook than you!”

“She actually taught me a few recipes when I was first learning,” Wild said as he stripped down to his undertunic. “Although I taught her this one. I found it in a book in the castle.”

Twilight nodded his approval as he relished the sweet dessert. “This is amazing cake, seriously. Definitely fit for royalty.”

Wild laughed again and started letting all his hair down, raking his fingers through the knots. “So do people always eat cake for birthdays?”

Twilight was so startled by the question he almost stopped eating. Almost. “Yeah, usually.”

“Huh, that’s nice. I had gathered birthday parties were just for kids but Dorian was telling me about the cake Koko made him last year.”

Twilight finished his cake and stowed the utensils away before asking softly, “I guess you don’t remember celebrating anyone’s birthday?”

Despite Twilight’s concerns, Wild seemed unfazed by this conversation. Absent was the usual heaviness that lingered when his forgotten past life was discussed. “No, I can’t say I do.”

“Well, we should fix that. When’s your birthday?”

Wild shrugged. “No idea.” Upon noticing Twilight’s frown, he added, “No one’s ever mentioned it to me, and I never thought to ask. I’m not sure anyone even knows.”

Twilight sat on the bed next to Wild and began shedding his outer layers of clothing. “You should ask! Zelda or Impa might know.”

Wild shrugged again. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? Not like anyone’s throwing me a party.”

Twilight looked carefully at his protégé, but Wild still seemed unperturbed. “Well, of course it matters. Even if there’s no party, don’t you want to know when you’ve gotten a year older?”

“I can just measure that by the anniversary of when I woke up from the Shrine. That seems like a better indicator of time, anyway. That’s when this life started.” He paused, then smiled to himself like he’d thought of something clever. “It’s like my rebirthday.”

“Right,” Twilight deadpanned as Wild laughed at his own joke (if it even qualified as one). “So when is your rebirthday?”

“Uhh… Good question. Not sure about that either, actually. Can’t say the day or month was my first concern upon waking. The year was more of a worry, though.” He laughed again, but Twilight only frowned more deeply.

Wild clapped a hand on Twilight’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t look so upset! Really, it doesn’t bother me to not remember this. I didn’t even know about this whole ‘celebrating birthdays’ concept until Cottla invited me to her party.”

He flopped onto his back, looking out the window next to the bed. Twilight sighed and settled next to him.

After a few moments, Wild said, “I wonder if I had birthday parties growing up.” For the first time, his voice carried an edge of sadness. “I wonder if I ate cake with my family.”

“I wish you could get those memories back,” Twilight said quietly. “I’m sure you have a lot of good ones.”

Wild hummed, closing his eyes. “I hope so. It’s okay, though. I have plenty of good memories from nights like tonight.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Still looking content, Wild drifted to sleep. Twilight could only stare at the ceiling.

---

A week later, Twilight found himself alone in Wild’s house. Wild had gone up to the Hateno Tech Lab to help Zelda and Purah with something, while Twilight opted to stay behind. He had a genius plan to enact, after all, and this was the perfect opportunity.

As he stood in Wild’s kitchen gaping at the teen’s handwritten recipe book, though, Twilight started to have doubts. Maybe this wasn’t so genius after all. He had never baked anything in his life, and it turned out it was far more complicated than throwing some ingredients into a bowl. Wild’s cake recipes included words like “sift” and “fold” and “whisk” and other things he didn’t fully understand. Was he really capable of doing this?

He shook his head as if to shoo out the doubts. He was going to do this, gosh darn it, no matter what. He needed to do this for Wild.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t choose the simplest recipe, though.

Thankfully, Twilight found all the ingredients for a nutcake in Wild’s cabinets, and he diligently set to work.

---

“Well,” Twilight mumbled to himself as he stared at the misshapen lump on the table, “it’s the best cake I’ve ever made, I guess.” He snorted at his own dumb joke before collapsing into a chair, head in his hands.

The cake had caved in on itself, the outside was singed and crispy, and he had accidentally added too much salt to the batter. Like, way too much salt. He was considering throwing out this monstrosity and trying again another day when the front door opened.

Twilight jumped out of his chair, startled, which startled Wild in turn. “Whoa, it’s just me! Why are you so tense?” Wild paused. “And why does it smell like something burned?”

“I’m so sorry!” Twilight moaned, dropping back into the chair. “This is a disaster! I wasted all your ingredients. Flour, sugar, butter, nuts, salt… Kind of a lot of salt...”

Wild blinked in confusion as he stepped into his house, closing the door behind him. He eyed the mess in front of Twilight. “Were you trying to cook lunch? I thought I’d left enough leftovers for you.”

“Not lunch, it was… It was supposed to be a cake, believe it or not.”

“Oh? Craving more cake after Cottla’s birthday?” Wild laughed. “I could have made you some tonight.”

“No, no, no.” Twilight sighed, forlorn. “It’s not for me. It’s for you.”

Wild sat in the chair next to him, brows furrowed. “For me?”

“Yeah, I— Okay, I guess it was dumb because clearly I can’t bake, but I…” He ran a hand through his hair, not meeting Wild’s eyes. “I know we don’t know when your birthday is, or your rebirthday, and I know you said you didn’t care about that anyway, but I just wanted to… Ugh, I’m sorry. This was stupid. I’ll get rid of this.”

Twilight stood and moved to pick up the plate that bore his shame, but Wild grabbed his wrist. “Wait, wait, I don’t—I don’t understand. You were trying to make a birthday cake? For…me?”

“Yeah, I just—” Twilight sighed again. “It’s not out of pity or something. I hope it’s not coming off that way. It’s just that, birthdays are about celebrating the fact that someone exists, y’know? You deserve that, people celebrating you. I want to celebrate you. It’s not a whole party, but I thought the cake was a start, but it was a bad idea and—”

Twilight cut off his rambling when he finally looked at Wild, who was staring at the dessert with watery eyes. Neither spoke or moved for a long moment until Wild finally rose from his seat to fetch two plates, two forks, and a knife to slice.

Twilight slowly sat down, allowing Wild to serve him a piece of the cake. Wild was still looking at the cake in astonishment, like he couldn’t comprehend what it was (understandable given the sorry state of thing, Twilight thought). The younger hero took a hesitant bite and blinked rapidly, swiping at his eyes to shoo away the tears.

Twilight decided to give it a try himself. It was a choice he quickly regretted. The cake tasted abysmal. Embarrassment returned to him in full force. He could only manage three bites before giving up, but Wild ate his entire piece. When he was finished, Wild wiped at his eyes again, determined to hold the tears at bay. He didn’t look at Twilight as he said a soft and shaky, “Thank you.”

“Nah, don’t thank me. It tastes terrible and you know it.”

Wild shook his head. “Don’t say that. It doesn’t even matter. No one… No one has ever done something like this for me.”

He hesitantly put a hand on top of Twilight’s and squeezed. Twilight smiled, at last starting to relax as he said, “Well, you do deserve it. I meant that.”

Wild shyly reciprocated the smile, leaving his hand where it lay.

The pair sat in companionable silence for a long while, enjoying each other’s company, until Wild cleared his throat. “But seriously, how much salt did you use?”

Chapter Text

Wild was an adaptable sleeper, able to rise early or retire late or go days with minimal rest—whatever circumstances required. Twilight, on the other hand, preferred to take cues from the sun (Wild supposed that was a farmer thing) and grumbled when his circadian rhythm was thrown out of whack.

“I used to be able to sleep whenever, like you,” Twilight would gripe, “but now I need a schedule. You’ll understand when you’re older.” Wild would roll his eyes, as if a few years’ seniority made Twilight some old man.

With nothing else to dictate his sleeping habits post-adventure, Wild slipped into Twilight’s pattern of going to bed at nightfall and waking with sunrise. If he opted to deviate from this, he had no issue compensating by getting up at a different time…but no matter what, Twilight roused with the sun.

So when Wild awakened late one morning and found Twilight still huddled in his bedroll, he knew something was grievously wrong.

“Twilight?” Wild called, shaking his shoulder.

Twilight muttered some curses and cracked his eyes open with difficulty. “Huh? What is it?”

“You overslept.”

“Did we have somewhere to go?”

“No, I mean it’s, like, nine AM.” At his mentor’s blank stare, Wild elaborated. “You’re usually up by six.”

Twilight scrubbed a hand over his bleary eyes. “So what?”

“So what?” Wild parroted in surprise. “So, what’s wrong with you? Are you okay?”

Twilight groaned and pressed his face into his pillow, mumbling, “I just feel kinda sick, okay? Can you let me sleep?”

“Sick? What’s the matter? Do you need something?”

“I need sleep.”

Wild fidgeted, biting his lip. His only experience with illness was the cold he caught a few months back, and that had been semi-terrifying. When he first discovered he couldn’t breathe through his nose for no discernible reason, he panicked, and Twilight’s gross explanation of congestion didn’t entirely assuage his fears.

Twilight hummed. “Actually”—Wild perked up, attentive—“can you get me another blanket? I’m kinda cold.”

“Oh, yes! Of course!” He tossed an extra blanket across Twilight, smoothing it down and tucking it up to his chin. “Is that good?”

“Mhm. Thanks.” He patted Wild’s hand. “Sorry for being grouchy. I just feel awful.”

Wild latched onto his hand, brow furrowed, then reached up to feel his cheek. He recoiled in horror. “You said you were cold, but you’re burning up!”

Twilight blinked languidly. “Oh yeah? Huh. Maybe I have a fever.”

“A what?”

“Fever.”

“Right, but what is that?”

Twilight sighed. “It’s no big deal.”

“Of course it’s a big deal!” Wild threw back the blanket he’d so carefully placed; Twilight grunted in protest. “What’s wrong? What do I do?”

Leveling him with a flat, albeit glazed-over, expression, Twilight cupped Wild’s face, his palm uncomfortably hot. “Wild. It’s fine. Fever is when your body temperature rises to kill off an infection.”

“Kill an infection?” Wild was practically squeaking. “What does that mean? What kind of infection? Why are you so calm? Do you need a doctor? I should get a doctor!”

“Wild. Listen to me. I’m fine. The fever just has to run its course, okay? Like your cold. Remember?”

Of course he remembered. It was hard to accept that it was normal for his breathing capacity to suddenly halve itself, and the solution was to live with it and trust that it would get better eventually. The body essentially becoming a furnace to heal itself didn’t seem any more reasonable.

But Wild could see he was only irritating his mentor, so he forcibly loosened his grip on Twilight’s hand and sat back on his heels. Taking this as a sign that Wild was placated, Twilight pulled the blanket back up and shut his eyes.

“…You’ll tell me if you need something, though, right?” Wild asked.

“Mhm. G’night now.”

Stricken with worry, Wild watched Twilight burrow back into his bedroll and promptly doze off.

He was most decidedly not placated.

---

Two hours later, Wild padded back into his house, relieved to see Twilight still conked out and drooling on his pillow. He fetched a cup of lukewarm water and then settled himself next to his mentor, waking him gently. Twilight groaned as he came to, hair disheveled and cheeks blotched with red.

“Sorry to wake you,” Wild said solemnly. “You need to drink.”

Twilight obliged, watching as Wild removed a few items from a satchel in his lap. He dampened a cloth with rubbing alcohol and then wiped down a glass thermometer.

“Where’d you get that stuff?”

“I went to see Purah.” Wild gave the thermometer a couple of hard shakes, studied it, and nodded. “She told me about fevers. Here. Hold it under your tongue, for at least three minutes.”

Still blinking away grogginess, Twilight did as instructed. When it was time, Wild took the thermometer and narrowed his eyes in thought as he examined it. “Thirty-eight point four,” he murmured, mostly to himself.

With Twilight watching, he rinsed the thermometer at the sink, sanitized it again with rubbing alcohol, and stored everything back in the satchel. He refilled Twilight’s cup and handed it back to him again. “You should drink more. You need to stay hydrated.”

“Right. Thank you.”

“I’ll make you some soup.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Twilight said, starting to rise. “I can get something myse—”

“No, I don’t mind,” Wild said, hastily ushering him back down. “You need to rest.”

Twilight chuckled. “I appreciate your going to so much trouble for me, but I promise, I’m fine.”

Wild shook his head, an uncharacteristically serious glint in his eyes as he said, “I know, but I want to help you.”

Although he felt a little guilty, Twilight was too drained to argue. He stayed put, nodding off, until Wild pushed a hot bowl of broth into his hands. Even the minimal movement of eating felt exhausting, and Twilight had scarcely handed over the empty bowl before passing out once more.

Two or three times, he surfaced to semi-consciousness as Wild checked his temperature, but he didn’t fully awaken until that evening. His protégé gave him a second round of soup for dinner, and that, along with some homemade apple juice Wild had apparently whipped up while he slept, restored some of his stamina.

“I think maybe I’ll step outside a minute,” Twilight said.

Wild looked alarmed. “You want to go outside? Do you still feel cold?”

“Kinda,” Twilight answered, “but I have my pelt. I’ll be fine. I think the fresh air would do me good.”

“Are you sure? That doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

“Nah, it’ll be fine. I need to stretch my legs.” Twilight tottered up, laughing as Wild grasped his elbow to support him. “I’m not gonna fall over, kiddo.”

Still, Wild didn’t let go as they stepped out the door. Tugging the hood of his pelt up, Twilight deeply inhaled the refreshing air, taking in the final streaks of daylight. He could feel a light sheen of sweat on his forehead drying in the breeze.

Realizing that Wild’s nervous gaze was flickering over him, Twilight grinned and ruffled his protégé’s hair. “As cute as your fretting is, you can relax. This is neither my first nor my worst fever.”

Usually the compliment would cause blushing or sputtering, but now Wild only frowned. “Last time we checked, your fever was thirty-eight point seven. It’s going up.”

“Not substantially.”

“It doesn’t need to go up much more to be dangerous. Purah said you have to monitor fevers carefully because they can worsen pretty quick.”

“You’re being very vigilant,” Twilight smiled. “Frankly, I thought you’d be out taming bears and blowing stuff up with me down for the count.”

“I’d rather be doing that,” Wild lamented.

Given the way the kid was clutching his arm and standing too close, Twilight got the feeling that wasn’t true.

---

Twilight was barely conscious when Wild checked his temperature around eleven that night.

Purah had advised that, barring its ascension to thirty-nine point four degrees, the fever didn’t require medical treatment, as Twilight had originally said. Wild’s chest clenched with anxiety just before he read the thermometer each time, afraid he’d see that dreaded number. Now as he studied the glass implement by lanternlight, he was relieved to see the fever had coasted back down to thirty-eight point four.

After cleaning the thermometer and dousing the lantern, Wild settled back down next to Twilight and wrapped himself in a blanket. He could fit in a decent nap before taking his mentor’s temperature again. There was no way he’d go the whole night without doing so. Besides, he could miss out on a day or two of proper sleep without much consequence.

Wild brushed Twilight’s toasty forehead, sweeping his bangs to the side. He’d happily sacrifice as much sleep as needed to watch over Twilight, but of course he hoped his mentor would recover soon. Leaning against the wall and drifting off, Wild prayed that tomorrow, Twilight would rise at dawn.

Chapter Text

Wolfie sniffed the rusting husk of a guardian stalker. Its splayed mechanical legs had begun to sink into the mud, commencing its transformation into a fixture of the landscape. Among the century-old rubble and gutted guardian hulls that already speckled the Torin Wetland, it seemed as natural an addition as another autumnal tree.

Now that the wetland had devolved from active battlefield to guardian graveyard, the area’s beauty was more prominent. Regally-robed fall trees and moss-plastered stone pillars were scattered across a patchwork quilt of cherry-red and lemon-yellow leaves.

Nearby, Lake Akkala sparkled, clean and crisp, and from it rose Tarrey Town. The sight of the trademark cubic buildings set Wolfie’s tail wagging, his heart swelling with pride at the settlement his protégé had worked so hard to help establish.

Speaking of his protégé…

Wolfie glanced towards Akkala Falls and spied Wild’s raft bobbing along the lake. He watched as Wild, with his magnesis rune, maneuvered a treasure chest from the water and plopped it down on the raft. It held some kind of bow, which he stored in his Sheikah Slate before kicking the empty chest back into the water.

Seeing Wild in a moment of peaceful banality, untethered by destiny’s burdens, raveled a skein of sentiment inside of Twilight, a messy blend of tenderness and bliss, protectiveness and pride, and unyielding affection.

Wolfie padded towards the shoreline and waded in, doggy-paddling when it was deep enough. His graceless splashing drew Wild’s attention away from treasure-hunting. The younger hero blinked in surprise.

“Twilight? Are you okay swimming in that form?”

The water-logged wolf gave a noncommittal grunt as he reached the raft. Wild grabbed his scruff and helped haul him on board, even as the extra weight threatened to capsize the flimsy vessel. Once the raft’s violent tilting and lurching lessened to a gentle sway, Wolfie decided to shake out his fur.

Wild yelped as he futilely attempted to shield himself from the deluge, then yelped again as the soggy beast tackled him. Water sloshed across the logs, ensuring Wild was completely soaked, but Wolfie paid this no mind as he gave the boy slobbery kisses.

“Agh, stop!” Wild laughed.

When Wolfie finally let him up, Wild wiped off his cheeks with damp sleeves and tried to control his childish giggling.

“You sure are playful today. What’s gotten into you?”

In response, Wolfie only thumped his tail and trailed another kiss across his little brother’s face.

Chapter Text

When Wild first traveled in the Hebra Mountains, he thought them rather bleak and inhospitable. Deep snow, steep slopes, and ever-thinning air made for a slow, strenuous journey, while aggressive wildlife and camouflaged monsters were constant threats.

Yet on the highest peaks in the remotest depths of the mountain range, Wild found a totally different world. The altitude and extreme cold discouraged any plants from growing or living creatures from lingering, yet it didn’t feel hostile. Silent and tranquil, the star-grazing peaks felt touched by divinity.     

It was on one of these peaks that Wild sat now, overlooking the ivory snow studded by moonlight-diamonds and languidly watching his breath escape in steamy wisps. He thought of the peaks as a solitary retreat where he could marvel at the infinite inky sky and remember what an insignificant speck he was in the universe. It was a humbling reminder, and a freeing one that allowed him to release the world-saving weight on his shoulders, if only for a moment.

But tonight, Wild had invited his mentor to accompany him here. Even though Wild hadn’t explained the significance of the place, Twilight seemed to innately understand, as he always did. He sat by Wild in a respectful silence, wrapped in his furs and warmed by elixirs.

Wild began to fiddle with the hem of his Snowquill tunic, and he didn’t look at his mentor as he finally decided to speak his mind. “What am I supposed to do now that the Calamity is gone? I know I’m helping Zelda rebuild the kingdom, but…since waking up, my life has had one purpose, and now I’ve fulfilled that purpose, and I just feel…lost.”

Twilight hummed knowingly and carefully considered his answer. “It’s okay to feel lost. It might take you awhile to figure out where to go from here, and that’s okay, too. Your life is changing a lot right now. Give yourself time to adjust to that.”

He put his hand on top of Wild’s, stilling the boy’s fidgeting.

“But Cub,” Twilight continued, “I hope you know that you’re so much more than your destiny or your hero’s title or anything like that. You deserve to make your life what you want it to be. You might not know what that is right now, but you will.”

Wild was quiet for a long time, until he finally mumbled, “What if there’s something I want, but I can’t have it? Then what?”

“Yeah, that’s… I know how that is.” Twilight gazed up at the stars, thinking of a broken mirror. “Sometimes all you can do is grieve and heal and wait. Life takes but it gives, too. There’s always something for you out there. After my adventure, I felt lost, too. But then I…met you.”

The shock was evident on Wild’s face as he whipped around to look at Twilight. “What do you mean?”

Smiling, Twilight wrapped his arm around Wild’s shoulders. “I mean that helping you with your adventure has been more rewarding than you can imagine. I wouldn’t trade this for anything. This is the happiest I’ve felt in a long while.”

To Twilight’s surprise, Wild frowned and looked away again. “But this will end, too. You’ll have to go back to your own era. And then what will I have?”

“You’ll still have a lot—,” Twilight began, but Wild cut him off.

“But I want you with me. Because I… Because you’re… You’re like my brother. You’re the only family I have. And I…I love you.”

Twilight’s grip on his shoulder tightened and he pulled Wild close, the contact warming them both against the frigid air. “Oh, Cub. I love you, too. It will be okay. You’re kind and smart and resilient, and I just know you have so many good things ahead of you. I know you’re going to be okay.”

In a rare display of open affection, Wild curled his arms around Twilight’s middle and laid his head on Twilight’s shoulder, cuddling close. Twilight pressed his cheek into Wild’s unruly golden hair, raising a hand to feather through the long locks.

Above them, an aurora flickered across the sky. Greens and blues and purples twined together, dripping through the constellations like iridescent icicles. The celestial lights painted a comforting blanket across the mountaintop, and Wild, feeling warm and serene, decided that Twilight was right. There were many good things ahead. They would both be okay.  

Chapter Text

Over the last several months, Wild had learned so much from Twilight. Most of it was very practical—sword techniques, wound care, general hero stuff—but some of it, frankly, was useless.

For instance, thanks to Twilight, Wild was now graced with the knowledge that wolves shed. A lot. 

Wild had found dark grey fur in every place imaginable: Clinging to his clothes. Scattered throughout his travel pack. Stuck inside scabbards. Strewn around his bed and dresser drawers and cabinets and kitchen sink. Even gummed up in his soap and toothpaste.

And the floor—well, that was a lost cause. Stray hairs tangled together in miniature tumbleweeds, hiding in every corner and under every piece of furniture. It was impossible to corral them all.

The ubiquitous presence of loose fur in his otherwise tidy home irked Wild. It did not, however, bother Twilight, who only shrugged whenever Wild brought it up. So the younger hero decided it was a simple annoyance he’d have to live with...until one blessed day, when a solution presented itself unprompted.

Wild stood at a stable counter, boarding a horse, and Wolfie lingered at his hip. Admiring Wolfie, the stable owner whistled. “My, that’s a magnificent beast you got there. Never seen a tame wolf. You raise him yourself?”

“No, someone else domesticated him,” Wild answered. “Toilet-trained him and everything.”

Had they been alone, Wolfie would have fixed him with a glare, but under someone else’s scrutiny, he remained placid, pretending he couldn’t understand the conversation.

“That right? Does he stay indoors?”

“Mostly, yeah.”

“Wow.” The stable owner leaned forward to get a better look. “Gorgeous coat he’s got, but it’s so thick. He must shed all over.”

“Oh, believe me. He does.”

“Our Hylian retrievers shed a lot, especially in summer,” the owner said, jerking a thumb at the two dogs milling nearby. “Brushing ‘em out everyday helps, but we still don’t let ‘em in the stable.”

“I’ve never brushed him,” Wild said, glancing down at Wolfie, whose ears twitched.

“Never? You really should. I’m telling ya, it helps a lot.”

“Huh. What sort of brush does a dog—er, wolf—use?”

The man fished around under the counter, then pulled out a wire brush. “This is what we use. You wanna give it a shot?”

“Do I ever,” Wild replied, unable to contain a mischievous smile. He squatted, meeting Wolfie’s narrowed eyes that clearly warned, Don’t you dare. The mischievous smile widened.

“Come on, now,” Wild coaxed. “Be a good boy.”

The amount of fluff extracted by the brush was nothing short of astounding. Wild had to stop every three or four strokes to clear the bristles, discarding the fur into an ever-growing mound at his feet.

“By the gods, we could have a whole other wolf with this much fur,” Wild muttered.

“See? Really helps,” the stable owner said, before turning to another customer.

Now without a spectator, Wolfie swiveled away from the brush and glowered, as much as a wolf can.

Wild wasn’t put off. In his time with Twilight, he had learned more than one thing about wolves.

“Do this for me, and I’ll cook you some gourmet meat when we get home."

Wolfie titled his head, glare still in place as he considered the proposal. Ultimately, he turned up his nose in rejection.

Wild upped the ante. “Two helpings.”

A pause. A side-eyed glance. A resigned grumble. Wolfie shuffled closer, and Wild beamed.

“That’s a good Wolfie,” Wild cooed. The wolf rolled his eyes.

Wild hummed as he continued to brush, wondering what bribe would convince Twilight to do this again tomorrow.

Chapter Text

The woods near Hateno Village boasted a dense leafy canopy, creating a shaded reprieve from the summer sun where colorful mushrooms flourished. It was a popular area for foraging, but Wild was thrilled to see that he and Twilight had the woods to themselves today. He blissfully breathed in the heady scent of soil and greenery and felt at home.

Spotting a hearty truffle sheltered in a tangle of tree roots, Wild stooped to scoop it up. Twilight leaned against the tree, hands in pockets, and asked, “So how many truffles do you need?”

“As many as we can get.”

Twilight lackadaisically dug up a couple of truffles, but for the most part, he lagged after Wild, absently watching the acrobatics of nattering squirrels in the branches above them.

After a while, Wild quirked an eyebrow. “If you’re bored, you can just go back to my house.”

“Yeah,” Twilight sighed dramatically, “but then I’ll just be bored at your house.”

Wild crouched to pluck up another truffle. When he stood, he wiped the dirt from his fingers onto his tunic. Twilight promptly brushed it off.

“Maybe you wouldn’t be so bored if you actually helped me forage,” Wild said.

“That does sound exhilarating.”

“If you want ‘exhilarating,’ I’ve got plenty of suggestions.”

“No,” Twilight answered without hesitation. Wild rolled his eyes. “Do you still not have enough truffles?”

“Hmm.” Wild checked the inventory on his Slate. “I’d like to get a few more.”

“Don’t overdo it. I actually don’t care too much for truffles.”

“What? How can you not? They’re a delicacy!”

“Maybe to a boar or something,” Twilight teased.

Wild looked affronted. “You need to culture your tastebuds. Expand your palate.”

“My palate is plenty expanded, thank you,” Twilight retorted playfully. “I think yours is too expanded.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning I’ve seen you eat some things that are bizarre at best, inedible at worse.”

“I’m a culinary explorer,” Wild said mock-proudly, and Twilight snorted. “Besides, I didn’t know what was edible or not after waking up. I just had to try things.”

“Okay, first off, you told me you ate rocks before the Calamity—”

“Goron delicacy,” muttered Wild.

“Second off! You can’t always pull the ‘I was dead for one hundred years’ card and expect to get out of everything.”

Wild nearly tripped, and Twilight grimaced, steeped in instant regret. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t make jokes like that—”

Bursting into cackles, Wild said, “Yeah, you have some gall. Now I’m cooking nothing but truffles for a week straight.”

“Well… It’s warranted…”

“Relax, Twi, I thought it was funny,” Wild dismissed, continuing to wind through the trees. He stopped suddenly, smile fading; his mentor bumped into him. “Hey, what’s that?”

Twilight blinked at a fuzzy blue blob lying amidst the trees, a little creature curled up like a cat and resting its head on its tiny paws. Orange antennae-like appendages drooped from its head.

“Is that a blupee?” Twilight asked. “They’re not usually in these woods, right?”

“No. Too close to the village.” Wild shuffled a little nearer. The blupee was perfectly unmoving, eyes closed, and— “It’s not glowing.”

The heroes stared for a quiet moment. Wild shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Do you think it’s…hurt?”

“Maybe, but I thought they were spirits, the way they vanish into thin air.”

“I know. Me, too.”

Wild tiptoed closer, Twilight right behind him. The blupee didn’t stir as they squatted next to it.

“It’s breathing,” Twilight confirmed.

“But something’s wrong with it.” Wild reached out with a tentative hand and feathered his fingers over the sky-colored fur. The blupee still didn’t rouse. He pulled back his hand.

“It’s so soft,” he whispered.

Twilight reached out, too, and very carefully picked up the tiny animal. With practiced movements, he felt it for injuries, external and internal. “Doesn’t seem hurt. Maybe it’s sick. Can they get sick?”

“I don’t know. No one knows too much about them. Most people never even see them.”

Twilight stroked the blupee in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. It made him feel better, anyway.

“So what do we do?” Wild asked. “I don’t want to just leave it here. What if someone else finds it and…does something?”

“Like shoot it? Who would do such a thing?”

“Haven’t you filled your joke quota for the day, Wolf Boy?”

“Anyway,” Twilight said with a smirk, “I don’t really want to leave it here, either, but not knowing anything about blupees, all we could do is keep it comfortable and hope it heals on its own.”

“Well. Okay then. That’s what we’ll do.”

“You want to finish foraging? I can take it back to your house.”

“Nah.” Wild stood up. “I’d like to have at least seventy-five, but sixty-five truffles will do for now, I guess.”

Twilight stared incredulously. “You mean you made me go mushroom picking when you already had at least fifty of them?”

“I don’t like my supplies running low.”

“…Low. Yeah.” Twilight stood with the blupee cradled to his chest.

Wild started to lead them back through the woods towards his home. “Keep being sassy, and all you’ll eat is truffles for a month.”

---

“Do you think those are, like, downy feathers on its face? Or is it just fur?”

“Why would it be feathers?”

“Because it’s an owl face. Duh.”

After constructing a nest for the blupee out of a spare blanket and Twilight’s pelt, the heroes attempted to go about their daily business, but the peculiar critter’s presence was too much of a distraction. Both sat on the floor next to the blupee, watching it curiously.

Twilight crossed his arms. “No, it resembles an owl, but it’s a blupee face. It’s not like this thing is the literal byproduct of an owl and a rabbit.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Where would the antennae things come from in that equation?”

“Is that what they are?” Wild leaned closer, still allowing the blupee plenty of space. “Antennae? Or are they antlers? Or funky rabbit ears?”

“They remind me of moth antennae. That’s what I’m going with.”

“So it’s the byproduct of an owl, a rabbit, and…a moth.”

“How would that even happen?”

“I dunno. I’m not a scientist. Don’t you know how animal breeding works, Mr. Ranch Hand?”

“Animals of the same species, yes.”

“Hmm, I’ve just realized something,” Wild said, regarding Twilight thoughtfully.

“What’s that?”

“Goat Boy would be a better nickname for you than Wolf Boy.”

“Thank you for that enlightening discourse, Wild.”

The blupee, which had yet to move on its own or open its eyes, suddenly twitched, its entire body jerking. The heroes stiffened, alarmed.

“What was that? Is it okay?”

Another full-body twitch. Its moon-shaped face pinched into a grimace.

“Is it in pain? What’s happening?”

A final twitch, a moment of tense stillness, and then the blupee sneezed. Wild and Twilight jumped, and the blupee immediately settled back into a comfortable slumber, once more unperturbed.

The heroes blinked down at the creature, dumbfounded.

“Can…can owls even sneeze? Through their beaks?”

“Is that even a beak?”

“I have no clue.”

---

Twilight swallowed the final spoonful of his hearty truffle-laden stew. Wild was too talented, making even spongy fungus delicious. He could never admit that, though, after his protégé seemed mortally offended at Twilight’s earlier disavowal of truffles. Too much teasing potential.

“So Twi, I had an idea,” Wild began from across the kitchen table. “About the blupee.”

“Does this involve the mechanics of cross-breeding owls, rabbits, and moths? Because I don’t want to get into that.”

“I— No, you weirdo! About how we can help it.”

“Go on then.”

“We can take it to the Lord of the Mountain,” Wild said. “He’s, like, their god or something, right?”

“I don’t know anything about the religious beliefs of blupees.”

Wild huffed a laugh. “Okay, but the Lord of the Mountain is a god or demigod or something, yeah? And blupees are drawn to him. Maybe he could help.”

“That’s not a bad idea, Cub.”

“It’s the best we’ve got at this point. He might not be on the mountain tonight, but we can check, at least.”

“Wait. You’re not going to try and ride the Lord of the Mountain again, right?”

Wild had made several attempts to mount the deity, successfully sneaking up and vaulting onto its back only once, although he was rapidly bucked off. The skittish, hyperalert creature usually fled before he could get close. “No, the blupee is the priority tonight.” He thought for a moment, then asked, “What if it doesn’t want to help us because I, like, traumatized it?”

“I doubt you traumatized it,” Twilight said. He stood to collect their used dinnerware and carried it to the sink. “Irritated it, sure.”

“I can’t help it,” Wild whined. “Can you imagine riding him? That would be so incredible.”

“Okay, but what if you respectfully admire him from afar instead of harassing him?”

“Riding would be fun for him, too. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

Twilight laughed as he scrubbed their dishes. “I’m sure. Why are you so insistent on riding him anyway? You don’t think you’re gonna tame him or something, I hope.”

“No, of course not. I just…” Wild closed his eyes, imagining the fragrance of grass, the rhythm of a horse’s hoofbeats beneath him, the wind combing through his hair and caressing his scarred cheeks. “It’s not about taming anything. It’s about…merging with everything that’s untamed and free. It’s like being a part of everything, and everything’s a part of you, too.” He sighed, opening his eyes again. “I dunno. It’s hard to explain.”

Twilight smiled softly, finishing the dishes and toweling off his hands. He walked towards his protégé and dropped a hand on his head. Wild looked up at him, bright-eyed and curious.

“You don’t have to explain,” Twilight said. “I understand. You’re not called the Hero of the Wild for nothing. Now then.” He nodded toward the blupee. “Shall we?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Once again, Twilight gently lifted the snoozing blupee and wrapped it snugly in his pelt. Wild linked their arms together, pulled out his Slate, and teleported them to Satori Mountain’s peak.

Upon arriving, Wild frowned. The night was dark, unpierced by the ethereal beacon that heralded the Lord of the Mountain’s presence. “So much for that plan.”

“We could try again tomorrow.”

“I suppose.”

Nearby, the underbrush rustled, and Wild’s hand flew to his sword…but there was no need to draw the weapon. Out from the foliage popped a blupee.

The heroes gaped at the animal. Instead of scampering off, as jumpy blupees were prone to do, it fearlessly stared right back at them.

“Um. Hi there,” Wild tried. “We have your friend here.”

With an air of purpose, the blupee turned away and hopped to the trail that flowed down the mountainside. It glanced back at the Hylians before slipping out of view.

Twilight and Wild exchanged puzzled glances.

“I…think it wants us to follow,” Twilight murmured.

Wild shrugged. “We’ve seen weirder things happen.”

They shuffled after the bold blupee. Once they caught sight of it again, they were surprised to see a second one had joined it. As they continued down the path, a third blupee hopped from a bush to bounce alongside them. A fourth trailed a few steps behind. Then a fifth appeared, and a sixth…

By the time they arrived at the cherry blossom tree, Wild and Twilight had an entourage of at least two dozen blupees. The curious little critters dispersed, amusing themselves by splashing in the shallow pool of water beneath the tree or sniffing flowers or chasing one another. More and more blupees materialized by the second, it seemed, their collective spirit-like glow washing out the space in ghostly blue.

“I’ve never been invited to the blupee party before,” Wild said, grinning at the zippy animals. “Maybe the Lord of the Mountain is coming after all.”

“Maybe so.”

Wild and Twilight planted themselves on a log beneath the cherry tree, which joyfully wept its pastel petals into their hair. Still bundled in the pelt, the sleeping, glow-less blupee snuggled in Twilight’s lap. A couple of its inquisitive peers hopped up to the log, placing their front paws on Twilight’s leg and stretching to get a peek, while some other blupees romped at Wild’s feet, tripping over his boots as they play-wrestled.

Matching the blupees’ luminescence, a nearby cluster of regal Silent Princesses soaked in the starlight. Wild reached out to touch the silky blue and white petals, then tenderly picked one of the ravishing blooms. He brought it to his nose, inhaling its sweet perfume, before tucking it behind one of Twilight’s ears.

“This is much more exhilarating than mushroom hunting, huh?” Wild said.

“It certainly is.”

“Now if only my steed would show up.”

“I wonder if—”

Twilight cut himself off. He felt a shift in the air; it seemed to vibrate with unseen, building energy, like the simmering electrical charge before a lightning strike. Antennae-ears flicking, the blupees sensed it, too. Their playful mood dwindled to a solemn alertness.

“What’s—” Wild started, but he fell quiet as his veins began to tingle. There was no lightning strike, but rather a sudden burst of power that thrummed through his blood. For a moment, the world grew still and soundless, holding an anticipatory breath—and upon exhalation, a figure stood right in front of the heroes.

Delicate hooves rippled the mirror-like surface of the water as the nimble, majestic apparition stepped silently forward. Orange antlers curved from the deer-like being’s head, and a thick white tail streamed behind it. Like the blupees, the four-eyed creature was effulgent, haloed in blue, its radiance smudging its edges as if its essence could not be contained by this corporeal form.

Twilight and Wild were frozen in place as the god leaned down and tapped its nose on the blupee in Twilight’s lap, a gesture that resembled a kiss.

With the touch, the blupee’s extinguished light blazed to life again, and the little animal opened its eyes. Calmly, it looked up to the Lord of the Mountain; then it looked up at Twilight, at Wild, its eyes conveying a message of gratitude. It wiggled free of Twilight’s pelt, gracefully leapt to the ground, and joined its companions, who resumed their moonlit revelry, frolicking carefree.

The Hylians remained still, captivated, until Wild blurted, “May I ride you?”

The Lord of the Mountain regarded each boy, then slowly turned its back to them. It lowered itself towards the ground, kneeling, waiting.

Wild blinked in surprise. “Is…is this…? Are you…?” Rising from his seat with caution, he tentatively reached out to stroke its smooth coat.

The deity didn’t move as the boy apprehensively climbed onto its back and curled his fingers into its cloud-soft mane. It then looked over its shoulder at Twilight with an expectant expression.

“Me?” Twilight said, standing.

“He wants you to join!” Wild whisper-shouted. “Come on! Come on!”

“Don’t need to ask me twice.”

Twilight joined Wild on the Lord of the Mountain’s back, securing his arms around Wild’s waist. As soon as he was settled, they were off, gliding away from the gathering of blupees, darting down the mountain and out across the plains. They moved like a soundless breeze, swift and weightless, the melody of their exuberant laughter floating behind them.

When morning came, the god vanished like a dream, and the heroes returned home arm-in-arm, breathless with liberating glee.

Chapter Text

Gripping a plain box, Wild stood outside of his house and intensely stared down the door. Squirming nervously, he murmured to himself, “Okay, Link, you can do this. It’s no big deal.”

Hesitantly, he reached for the doorknob, but then retracted his hand. He hugged the box to his chest and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Okay, okay, I’ll do it, but in a minute.”

Gods, why was this making him so anxious? It really wasn’t a big deal for friends to give each other presents!

At least, he didn’t think it was. He hadn’t exactly done it before.

Wait. What if it was a big deal to just offer someone a gift unprompted? Was that a weird thing to do? Was it weird that he had invested so much time and energy into this present? He didn’t even know if Twilight would like it. What if Twilight didn’t like it? What if he hated it?

“Stop overthinking, Link,” Wild chastised himself. “Just do it. You just have to do it.”   

Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and flung open the door with far more force than necessary. It crashed into the inner wall, and Twilight, who had been peacefully reading at the table, nearly toppled his chair.

“Wild! What in the world are you doing?!”

Wild slammed the door closed behind him, marched up to Twilight, and shoved the box into his startled mentor’s hands. “Take it!”

Twilight glanced between Wild and the innocuous box. “What? What is—?”

“Wait, no!” Wild yanked the box away. “I should explain first!”

“Uh, yeah, I think—”

“You know Riju? The Gerudo Chief?”

“Yes—”

“Did you ever go into her bedroom with me?”

“I— I’m sorry, what?” Twilight stammered.

“Her bedroom! Did you ever go in there?”

“No! Why were you in there?”

“That’s beside the point,” Wild dismissed. “Okay, listen. She has these stuffed toys, and they’re sand seals—”

“Okay—?”

“And I asked her about them one time, and she said she made them herself—”

“Wild, I really don’t kn—”

“So I asked her to teach me how to make them, and then she showed me, and then I got an idea, and I asked if she could maybe help me make something similar, and she did, which was cool of her, and so Isortofmadesomethingforyou, andIdon’tknowifyou’lllikeit—”

“Wild,” Twilight interrupted, “holy Hylia, please slow down—”

“So take it!”

Unceremoniously, Wild stuffed the box back into Twilight’s grasp and crossed his arms, a distinct rosy hue to his cheeks.

“Okay,” Twilight said, calmly and quietly, “I don’t understand. You made a sand seal?”

“No, no, it’s not a sand seal. It’s something else.”

“Something else?”

“Can you please just open it?”

Brow furrowed in bewilderment, Twilight carefully unlidded the box and gazed inside. Wild started to tap his foot, trying and failing to decipher Twilight’s expression.

“W-well?” he asked. “Are you gonna take it out?”

“Uh… Yeah, of course.”

From the box, Twilight pulled a stuffed toy. It was a four-legged critter with fake grey fluff, pointed ears, blue button eyes, dark lines embroidered on the forehead…

“Is—is this me?” Twilight croaked, staring incredulously at the miniature Wolfie. An unmistakable blush crawled across his face. “You made a plushie of me?”

Wild fidgeted, tapping his foot more rapidly. “Yeah. Is it weird or something? Or bad? Or maybe you don’t like it?”

“Bad? Are you kidding?” Twilight said. He put the box aside and took the wolf in both hands, examining it with wide eyes. “I can’t believe you made this! It looks incredible!”

Wild’s own blush deepened. “Oh, no, it, uh… I mean, Riju did the embroidery and stuff…”

“Hey, don’t be modest. This is really amazing!”

The younger hero blanched when he noticed wetness shining in Twilight’s eyes. “A-are you okay?”

Cheeks still pink, Twilight wrapped Wild in a bone-crushing hug, ignoring the surprised yelp from his protégé. “This was so thoughtful of you, Cub. I love it. Thank you.”

“I-it’s no big deal,” Wild murmured, tightly circling his arms around Twilight and sniffling. “No big deal at all.”

Chapter Text

i. Afterthought  

“Okay, I’m off to the lab.”

“Have fun,” Twilight, absorbed in a novel, replied absently from the kitchen table.

Wild reached for the doorknob. Paused. Blinked. Whirled back around.

“You forget something?”

Hooking his arms around Twilight’s shoulders, Wild pulled his mentor into a tight hug. “Yeah. I did.”

ii. Honey

“I’m sorry,” Wild repeated, dabbing witch hazel on Twilight’s arm, littered with irritated red bumps.

Twilight winced. “It’s okay. You better compensate me with honey candy, though.”

“Of course! The best honey candy.”

“And next time you decide to shoot a beehive, please warn me first.”

“I will. For sure.”

iii. Bet  

“Wait. You’re seriously wagering one hundred rupees against me?”

“Yes. I am that confident,” Wild declared. “You’re too cautious. You’ll never do it.”

Ten minutes later, Twilight, smirking, steered his new steed towards a gobsmacked Wild. From atop the bear, Twilight said, “I’ll take my one hundred in fives, please.”

iv. Quarrel  

Shame sagged Wild’s shoulders. “I’m…sorry I said that.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Twilight admitted softly. He held out his hand, a peace offering. “Truce?”

Wild lifted his head just a little as he accepted Twilight’s hand. “Truce.”

“We good, then…?”

“Always.”

v. Rainfall  

Unhurried raindrops rolled from the apple tree’s leaves, plopping to sodden grass. Downpour long desisted, Wolfie remained in the narrow cave waiting for Wild, lulled to sleep by rhythmic rain, to wake.

Wolfie didn’t mind waiting. This wasn’t his first stint as an impromptu pillow.

He didn’t mind that, either.

vi. Zoology  

“Wild. What is this?” Twilight turned the Slate to display a photo of himself, grinning and nose-to-nose with a shaggy White Goat.

Wild beamed. “Cute, right?”

“I don’t want to see embarrassing photos of me in your Compendium!”

“No? Then you should probably stop with that entry...”

vii. Home

Twilight rose, stretched, glanced down at Wild flicking through his Slate. “Well, I’m gonna head home now.”

Struck, Wild froze, hand hovering.

“Something wrong, Cub?”

“Uh. Nope. All good.”

“…Okay then. See ya.”

Wild watched Twilight amble away, warmth spreading through him as he murmured, “See you at home.”

Chapter Text

Twilight stepped back and frowned at the tray he’d prepared. Not much of a dinner, he thought.

Earlier, he’d purchased some of those good, fluffy rolls from the baker in town; two now sat on a plate, generously smeared with fresh goat butter and wildberry jam. Accompanying the bread were a couple of fried cucco eggs (which exhibited the extent of Twilight’s cooking ability) and a fruit salad with hydromelon, voltfruit, and banana snagged from Wild’s Slate. A steaming mug of green tea, a handful of Wild’s homemade honey candies, and a bud vase bearing a Silent Princess completed the ensemble.

Well, it was nothing spectacular, but it was all Twilight could do. He carefully balanced the tray as he walked it up the stairs to the loft, where Wild was curled in his bed.

Nothing triggered it this time. Later, Wild said the memory—or, rather, the fragmentary sequence of snippets from a life forgotten—held no relation to the path they walked, the nearby landmarks, or the conversation they shared. The recollections simply emerged, spontaneous, from Wild’s subconscious, like saplings sprouting from wintering seeds.

“Are you okay?” Twilight had asked when Wild broke free of his catatonia.

“I’d like to go home,” was Wild’s reply.

The trudge back to Wild’s was long and weary, and even though afternoon had scarcely slid into evening, Wild changed into his nightclothes and took to bed.

Now Twilight tentatively perched on the edge of Wild’s mattress, tray in lap.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said softly to Wild’s back. “I brought you some dinner. It’s not much, but it would be good if you ate something.”

Wild craned over his shoulder before sitting up, eyes regaining some of their characteristic brightness that the burden of memory had snuffed. Delicately he stroked a smooth, slender blue-and-white petal, then stooped to inhale the tantalizing aroma of the wildberry jam, to allow the tea’s wisps of steam to tickle his scars.

He looked up at Twilight with an almost-shy smile. “Thanks, Twi.”

Smiling in return, Twilight slipped the tray into Wild’s lap. “Of course.”

Wild examined the spread with growing eagerness and decided on his first bite: honey candy. He popped the amber treat into his mouth with delight.

“Dessert first?” Twilight said with mock-scandalization. Wild shrugged and grinned, the hard candy bulging in his cheek, and Twilight, relieved, ruffled Wild’s already-mussed hair.

- - - - -

Wild returned from his visit with Zelda as the stars began to glimmer in the hazy purple-blue sky. Distracted by his updated Sheikah Slate, Wild had entered his house, discarded his bag and sword by the door, and stood tip-tapping on the device for a few minutes before finally looking up and discovering, with bewilderment, that Twilight was not present.

Frowning, Wild hooked his Slate onto his belt and headed back outside. First he checked the small stable, where two of his horses nibbled at oats and hay, tails flicking, mellowly content. No Twilight.

He wandered downhill to the pond, where Twilight liked to soak his feet or take an occasional dip in the cool water. Not there either.

Wild even took a gander at the cookpot beneath the tree, in case Twilight was feeling ambitious this evening and trying his hand at dinner. Nope. (To be fair, Wild probably would have smelled something burning had that been the case.)

For a moment, Wild stood troubled and confused, glancing at the emergent stars as he considered where else his mentor could have gone.

Wait. The emergent stars. Sunset. Dusk.

Of course.

Wild circled around his house, looked up—and yep. There he was.

A crate made it easy to climb onto the low-hanging portion of the roof over the bathroom. From there, Wild climbed up the thatched roof and settled next to Twilight.

“Hey, kiddo,” Twilight greeted absently. His knees were drawn up, arms circled around them, and his attention was fixed on the sky.

“Hey. How are you?”

Twilight shrugged. Wild scooted an inch closer and rapped his fingers on the rooftop, unsure. Then he cautiously leaned his head onto Twilight’s shoulder.

After a pause, Twilight wrapped his arm around Wild, hugged him close, and said, “Come on, Cub. Let’s go inside.”

“You sure? I’ll stay out here with you. Or leave you alone, if you want.”

“Nah. I’m fine.” Twilight smiled warmly. “Let’s go make some new memories.”