Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The darkness is his only refuge as he finds himself once again standing at the edge of the woods. In nothing but a thin nightshirt and a pair of sleep shorts, Link shivers at the chill wind as he stares in awe at the stone archway leading into the infamous Lost Woods. A strange, ominous feeling continues dragging him out here like how a persistent child pulls their mother’s arm around. Something inside the woods beckons him to come closer, but he can’t bring himself to step through the threshold and into the fog. Even as the feeling to step into the fog intensifies with each passing night, he resists the temptation for as long as he can. Without a weapon or knowledge how to traverse the dangerous confusing path, he doesn’t see himself ever standing a chance against what calls to him from within.

His only source of light comes from the moon directly overhead. Looking skyward, he sees it sitting in the sky, hiding behind a fluffy cloud. The moon is not yet full, but one day more and it will be. If Link keeps on staring at the moon and the cloud above, his eyes start to deceive him. The world spins when he gazes at the stars for too long, and the last thing he needs right now is to be disoriented when danger may come from behind. Or in front of him, for that matter.

A childish fear of the boogeyman that Mother used to tell him about comes to mind, but Link shakes his head at the absurd intrusive thought. Any Hylian brave enough to wander willingly into the Lost Woods hasn’t ever returned to tell the tale. Link doesn’t like to think about it, but a vile curiosity has him wondering just how many dead bodies of lost adventurers lie in wait of being found. Looking back into the blue fog in front of him, he imagines a stalfos with a greatsword lumbering about on the other side. Dazed and confused, it would idly wander as if it were searching for a place similar to home. Trudging about as the sinewy tendons of decayed muscle stretch and pull to keep its bones melded together, it would walk forever in search of a place to rest in peace. Should such a creature find him staring—that is, if a stalfos is real to begin with—it may charge after him.

Or could it be that this strange stone archway Link stands a few paces away from acts as a gate? Locking things inside should it die within the woods? Like a sort of purgatory that prevents calamities from reentering the world and wreaking havoc in its path. It would explain why no one ever seems to return when they venture inside. If a stalfos does exist in the woods, would it be reasonable to assume it was a lost adventurer and, upon seeing Link, would it wish to kill him in exchange to live as a man one more time?

Such childish thoughts, Link thinks to himself. Stalfos aren’t real. The boogeyman he’s been warned about isn’t real. All it amounts to are just stories to keep children in line so their parents don’t have to worry about them wandering off at night. Well, normal children at least. Children who aren’t like him. Link glances up once more at the moon, watching as the cloud from before drifts away to reveal more light for him to walk back down the path toward the training camp to the south of these woods.

If he makes it back before the next guards’ rounds, he can sneak back into his barrack, slip back into bed and pretend he never left. The reveille seems to start up earlier and earlier when the recruits act up and give sass back to their commanders. Why everyone chooses to be snarky now, Link will never understand. Staying in line during the day has only earned him favors, but it also has its drawbacks… Being a near perfect soldier takes its toll on him. One small step out of line, and he’ll wind up scrubbing everyone’s boots like all the other bad eggs of the bunch. A fall from such grace is something he doesn’t wish to put himself through. That’s why every time he sneaks out of bed, he runs a terrible risk of being caught.

His time is waning, such as the moon’s height in the sky. Link pushes all thoughts aside for now and spins back around. He travels back down the path he came that will return him to the training camp. Perhaps another night. The strange pull to the woods will continue to call out for him, and he’ll be ready to take on whatever it is soon. Whatever it wants. At least the brisk walk back remains peaceful every time. Link’s suspicions are never calm enough to enjoy his late night stroll. It’d be too easy for a late night cadet to find him out here without a plausible reason to explain himself. Ready to tattle that little Linky has been caught out of bed, off the camp grounds. Ready for him to receive a just punishment for what would appear as attempted desertion upon first glance.

Not minding the rocks that dig into his bare feet, Link sucks in a breath and holds it as he makes his way back to camp. The torchlights are low and there doesn’t seem to be any patrols in sight for now. Link sidles up against the nearest barrack house and waits. Sliding down the cold wood building until he’s in a squat position, Link slowly makes his way to the end of the barrack to peek around the corner. The houses are arranged in a circle with all their entrances facing inward. Convenient for guards to keep an eye on all the entrances for any devious soldiers trying to sneak out.

However, it’s not something Link ever cared for. Only because it means he either can’t leave or he can’t get back inside without being seen. Usually the guards on duty right now make their rounds in lazy shifts. Sometimes standing at attention guarding whichever barrack house they want while keeping an eye on the other entrances of the houses. After a while, that pair of guards will wander the grounds to wake themselves up and prevent stiff muscles.

Staying out of the torchlight, Link steals a brief peek around the house he hides against.

Of course, the two guards are standing around his  barrack house now. Link frowns when he watches them for a moment. The two men don’t appear to sway on either foot like they’re impatient or bored. If he had to guess, it looks as if they had just returned from wandering around and are stationed back in position. They won’t be moving for a long time, and it appears that Link is stuck squatting by a barrack in the dark until they move again. Just his luck since he’s not keen on patience nor sitting still for long periods of time.

Link fights back a yawn by covering his mouth with a hand. This could take a while.

His ear twitches in the quiet chill of the night. Rubbing his ear to chase the twitch away, he notices why it moved, a second too late. Eyes widening in fear, he finally takes in the sound of an older man breathing a bit too heavily behind him. The dirt underneath them must have concealed his creeping boots from alerting Link of his presence. Out of the corner of his eye, Link dares a glance to whoever found him. All the blood in his body freezes over when he makes out the familiar lumbering form and the graying beard on one of the commanders’ faces.

“Waiting to sneak back inside, son?”

Of all the commanders stationed at the training camp, why did it have to be Dad to find him tonight?!

A firm hand on his elbow pulls him upright with no room to stagger. Link drops his eyes down the second his knees lock in place. Once he’s released, Link folds his arms behind his back. He refuses to look his father in the eyes. No doubt the guards near his barrack have taken notice of a commander’s loud voice coming from around the edge of the house Link hid behind; most likely waiting for an explanation for the commotion. Link isn’t sure what’s worse: being caught by a superior or his father. As much as he hates being caught out of line when he’s supposed to be a role model for other soldiers, he doesn’t like the idea of being seen as a disappointment to his dad.

“Out with it, Link.” Dad’s voice is stern. Patience drained from the night shift and Link’s surprising insubordination.

Link continues to stare at his father’s boots sunk into the dirt. Curling his toes, Link feels how the soft dirt squishes underneath him. Though Dad can’t see it, Link digs his fingernails into both forearms behind his back. He can’t tell if his nails sliding on his skin is due to sweat or if he’s managed to draw blood. Hoping for the latter, Link holds still and racks his brain for an easy out. Nothing believable comes to mind and keeping Dad waiting has his heart fluttering like an arrow has been loosed and landed inches from his head.

Dad sighs this time and Link sees the shadow of his arm first before feeling Dad’s hand grab his chin to tilt his head up. Wavering blue eyes stare up at Dad as they both wait for Link to respond. Though his body language barely shields any subtle clues of his unease, Link’s insides twist and turn at being caught. It’s hard to read what his dad is thinking and Link isn’t sure if he’s comforted by the thought that Dad discovered him out here like this. Any other commander or higher-ranking recruit would gladly throw Link through the wringer—wanting to knock him down a few pegs.

Before Link can organize the words on the tip of his tongue for a semblance of an explanation, his dad drops his chin and instead takes to grabbing Link’s ear; tired of waiting on him. He doesn’t grab hold of the lobe where the new piercing is, but with a thumb jammed into the shell, it still hurts like hell. Link’s head immediately tips to try and shelter his ear in a shoulder, but Dad’s grip on it is sure and strong.

“Let’s go, Link.” Dad doesn’t wait for an answer besides a sharp hiss and starts dragging Link in the direction he wants to lead him. Link bends forward in a futile attempt to lessen the pressure on his sensitive ear. “Maybe you’ll tell me all about your little trips these past few nights in private.”

If he could listen beyond that, he’d listen only to try and be obedient again. The pain in his ear smarts, but when Link is pulled away from his hiding place and into view of the guards standing outside his barrack, he tries to stare at them through nearly pinched eyes. The guards are too far to discern the faces they make with the torches hungry for fuel on their sconces, but it’s easy for Link to see them stifling their laughs when they realize who’s been caught.

Dad doesn’t let up with tugging on Link’s ear until they reach one of the commanders’ houses. It’s slightly better than the soldier barracks, but at least each commander has his own room instead of sharing with other men. No one has to deal with listening to everyone else snoring and making strange, muffled noises in the night the way Link has to. It must be nice having a space to call your own.

Dad pushes the door open with ease and doesn’t wait for Link to lift his foot to stumble up the steps. Kindness isn’t present in his father tonight, and Link knows it with how he’s been treated. If anything, a small feeling in his gut tells him it’s more than deserved to be treated this way for his recent behavior.

Dad’s quarters are already lit with low-burning torches when he releases Link’s ear and kicks the door closed with a boot. Link doesn’t hide his anger as he grabs hold of his ear and rubs the delicate shell. It used to be that Mother would pinch his ear if he didn’t do as he was told, but having Dad pull him across the grounds and all the way to his own barrack doesn’t make Link any more acquainted with the abuse. If he could, he'd happily and willingly offer a hand so that his father could drag him around by the wrist instead. At least then he doesn’t run the risk of his ear being pulled out of his head!

He stares with fire in his eyes as his dad walks across the room to stand in front of him. Without a look of remorse, he stands there for a second, just watching Link.

“So what excuse do you have for me? Please, I’d love to hear it.” Dad stands before him with his arms crossed over his chest. Right now, he’s an upset father and not his commander. It’s a start, but it’s still not the side Link wants to be on.

And right now, Link knows its better to tell the truth when a lie is impossible to create. He’s already in a hole and shouldn’t dig himself deeper by piling on lies to the trouble he’s caused for himself.

“I don’t have one,” is all Link can say. He drops his hand from massaging pain out of his ear. A cursory look down confirms earlier when he was scratching his arms outside that he only hurt his skin. Not enough for blood to stain him and leak to the ground, but the skin is scratched with pink streaks. Several trails of white nail marks up and down his forearms are enough of a distraction as he tries to figure out how he should phrase his reasoning. He has to tread lightly tonight because Dad isn’t in any mood for shenanigans. He never is.

Dad sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose for a spell. Unsure what to do with himself during the silence, Link stands at attention with his arms dutifully at his sides and stares straight ahead. Unfortunately, Dad is right in front of him, so he’s forced to look at Dad and how upset he is with him. Biting the tip of his tongue behind closed lips, Link tries not to yawn again. The night isn’t as young anymore. Soon dawn will break and another hard day of training awaits. If he were smart, he would have stayed in bed and could get the precious sleep he desperately needs. These late night outings are taking a toll on his alertness.

Staring at the buttons in Dad’s uniform, Link tries to not flinch when Dad bites out, “Where have you been going, Link?” Eyes glancing up to meet his father’s ire, Link remains stoic on the outside. Inside, his stomach twists harder and his heart jumps with a jolt at the rising boom of Dad’s voice. “I’ve heard from your barrack mates that you’ve been sneaking off. Almost at random. Tell me and you won’t be in as much trouble if you choose to ignore my orders. And keep in mind if you lie to me, you’ll be lying to the Goddess herself. She’s always watching and listening.”

Link wants to twist his fingers and fiddle with them in front of himself, but it’s slowly being ingrained into Link to stay still and attentive. Don’t fidget. Stop swaying and shuffling from one foot to the other. Don’t look anywhere but at the one speaking to you. That doesn’t mean his heart isn't beating hard enough in his chest that it makes his throat feel tight. Or how the knot in his stomach curls and flips with each passing moment. And above all else… he should never leave his superior left without an answer.

“The woods,” Link says, a bit too quietly. Link swallows hard and blinks up at his dad in the hopes that he’s been heard.

“The woods,” Dad repeats lowly. Link watches as his dad paces and ponders over his response. It’s unlike him to not start yelling; demanding more information when not enough is given the first time. When Dad walks toward the closed door, he halts with a click of his heels. His back to Link. “What in the name of Hylia were you doing in Minshi Woods? There’s nothing out there, boy.”

Minshi Woods? Link doesn’t bother hiding the confusion that spreads on his face. His brows come together as he tries to understand. Minshi Woods is directly across the road from the training camp. The heart of the woods is a few yards southeast at best. Link tries to find it in his voice to speak up and correct his father, but Dad cuts him off before he can even think to form the right set of words.

“I suppose if you wanted to chase wild boars for practice, that’d make sense, but still.” Dad spins back and marches forward until he stands in front of Link again. With his arms behind his back, his dad stares down at Link with a tilt of his head. “If you were out treasure hunting or, or Goddess forbid, going AWOL , then I’ll be forced to write you up.”

“No,” Link finally speaks up before any more assumptions can be hastily made. When his dad stands there with enough surprise on his face to raise his eyebrows at the interruption, Link takes a deep breath. Nervous blue eyes flinch to look up at his father. Link wants to look away, but he forces himself to not break contact first. With a slight tremble in his bottom lip, Link says in a near whisper, “The Lost Woods.”

Dad’s face doesn’t change. He bends forward into Link’s personal space and mouths the word what at him. Asking for confirmation to make sure he heard right. He’s done playing guessing games with Link.

“The Lost Woods, okay? I went to the Lost Woods.” Link fights the urge to roll his eyes. He has to keep in mind when they’re at the training camp, Dad isn’t always Dad. Dad is a superior and he can easily wind up in a heap of trouble for not showing respect. Even giving mild sass back has him running the risk of digging latrines or placed in solitary confinement for a day or two. Link closes his eyes and says with a steady voice, “I didn’t go into the woods. I was outside it. By the archway.”

The frustrated sigh he hears tells him he’s said enough for now. He watches as Dad rubs the bridge of his nose again. Standing in uncomfortable silence, Link keeps his gaze forward. A finger digs into the long hem of his sleep shirt. His hand twitches as he tells himself not to grab and twist the material while he waits. The disappointment coming from his father in waves is eating and nipping at him. Words don’t have to be said that he’s messed up. He already knows his first mistake was leaving his bed after the candles were blown out earlier this evening.

But now that the truth is out, he can’t explain himself beyond what he’s already said. He doesn’t understand why he’s being compelled closer and closer to the woods. The first night it happened, he stood just next to the edge of the camp. The second night, he crossed that threshold and stood on the road. As the nights progressed further, after training harder and harder during the hot days of summer, he constantly found himself inching closer and closer in the direction of the mysterious woods. Tonight is the closest he’s ever managed standing on his side of the archway. A few steps further and the mysterious blue fog would’ve enveloped him. Sweeping him in like aggressive waves out at sea that pull and tug to drag him deeper into the abyssal chasm of the unknown.

It scares him. He’s willing to admit as much. And he knows that it must terrify Dad that his own son is acting up in a way that’s most unusual. But it’s beyond Link’s comprehension to understand why it’s happening at all. If he could fight against it, he would, but it’s impossible to avoid the siren-like call of something mystical and full of whimsy that seems to appear in his head. He assumes he’s the only one to hear it; seeing as how he hasn’t met anyone else finding themselves wandering toward the woods in the dead of night. The strange call didn’t beckon to him tonight, but he ventured out anyway to see if it still wanted him.

As silence drags on, Link finally turns his eyes down and waits for the inevitable. He doesn’t know what to expect once Dad has an idea of what to do with him. Link knows the camp’s rules like the back of his hand. He’s had to remind countless older soldiers what not to do. When to do this, when to practice that. Where to go and for what purpose. Hell, even having to remind people that they should be asleep when they’re corralled like cattle back into their houses for the night when they’re louder than usual. So why is it so hard for him to get that point across to himself? He should have never left his barrack. Never should have left his bunk. Should have just stayed quiet and continued practicing, practicing, practicing.

Practicing so hard the blisters on his hands and feet begin to split and bleed again. Perfecting his technique until he could best even Dad in a dual. But no… It’s not meant to be that way. Not when he can’t even get a grip on himself and stay put during the night. He’ll never be a knight if he sneaks out and doesn’t stay in line like the good little soldier he’s supposed to be. Like the soldier Dad wants him to be so that he can be proud of him.

Blinking at the floor to chase tears away, Link doesn’t hear the sound of Dad clearing his throat to get his attention. Unable to hide his sniffling, Link breaks his obedient stance and uses the collar of his nightshirt to wipe away a tear streaking down his cheek. Seeing the stain on his collar, he lets out a stuttered exhale and drops his hands back down to his sides.

“Look up, soldier.”

Warily, he does as he’s ordered. His father’s expression doesn’t change at the sight of watery eyes or the obvious upset striking Link’s face. He remains neutral with his hands behind his back. Link’s ears dip down under Dad’s scrutiny.

 Dad sighs at the pitiful display and rolls his eyes at Link. The anger in his voice dissolves into something more mellow, almost indifferent, when he says, “Give me a number.”

That’s... not what Link expects. He doesn’t allow himself a second to think and offers the first random number in mind. “Five.”

Dad tuts at his meager response and brings a hand out from behind his back. With his thumb pointed toward the ceiling, he motions his hand up and down. Wanting something higher.

“Fifty?” Link suggests, still unsure what this is about. He straightens his back and holds his chin up a little higher. His heart still thunders unsteadily in his chest, but a distant thought in his mind reminds him that posture is important. As much as he’s upset, he shouldn’t be showing weakness. Crying gets him nowhere but on someone’s bad side.

Dad’s hand doesn’t stop with that same motion. “Higher than that. Keep going.”

Rather than play games, Link tightens his muscles to keep from throwing his arms up in defeat. He has a feeling he’s not going to like whatever the number means, but he gives a number he’s sure will suffice, “Two hundred.”

“An excellent choice.” Dad drops his hand long enough to return it behind him once more. With a stern look gazing down on him like always, there isn’t a smile hidden anywhere in his voice when he orders, “Drop and give me two hundred. Now.”

Dutiful as always—as much as he tries to be, at least—Link doesn’t gripe and moan as he sinks to the floor. Legs stretched out with his stomach almost flat on the ground and arms ready, he pushes his body up. The crack from his elbows is expected without prior stretching, so he ignores it. Bending his arms until his chest nearly touches the dirty floor, he bottles the grunt that wants to escape past his lips. The first one done, he tells himself there’s only one hundred ninety-nine to go. He can do this.

As Link keeps his mind on the task at hand and counts, his upset from a moment ago turns into frustration over the punishment. After the first set of twenty he has a steady rhythm. He doesn’t let himself angle his head in a way to see what his dad is doing in front of him. All he can see are Dad’s boots every time he lifts up. Link can just barely make out the dirt clinging to the edge’s of Dad’s boots in the low light. But even then, he doesn’t think too much about that insignificant detail. He needs to keep a steady pace if he wants to reach this superfluous goal as fast as possible.

Sweat starts to form on his brow once he reaches forty push-ups. The muscles in his arms and back burn as they work to support his weight each lift up, and his legs ache every time he reaches the height before falling back down. Most of his exercise comes mainly from endurance training. He’ll take running long distances without stopping before ever wanting to drop and do push-ups, sit-ups, and squats any day. Even lunges are out of the question in his book. If he had it his way, Link would happily run from one side of Death Mountain and circle all of the rocky cliffs without breaking his stride until he reaches the starting point again. It doesn’t matter how long it’d take; he’d do it just to push himself to that limit.

Link closes his eyes as he keeps at his grueling, stuttering pace. Reaching one hundred has never felt worse. Halfway there, but still another hundred to go. A lingering pang in his gut tells him this certainly isn’t the last of Dad’s punishment. This is only a taste of the beginning. Link is certain of that much. His breathing shortens into quick gasps as he ignores that feeling as it twists like a dragon in his stomach. He’s close to the end point and can’t falter over something foolish now. With Dad watching him complete this task, he doesn’t want his performance to be hindered by his unease over being watched.

He’s not a boy right now. He’s a soldier. He just wants to do something to make his father proud. And from how he’s been acting these past nights, he’s done anything but that. Link’s eyes open once he reaches one hundred eighty. Twenty more to go. But the ache in his arms and legs flames on higher than ever. Even his back muscles aren’t doing well from the excessive workout. Still, he pushes on and tries to hide the complaining grunts as he whispers his counting.

“...ninety-eight, ninety-nine, two hundred!”

Rather than do what the other soldiers do and flop to the floor with limp limbs, Link forces himself back to sit on his knees. Eyes downcast and ears refusing to perk up, Link places each hand on either thigh. Curling his fingers into his palms, he waits for his next set of instructions. The bangs of his hair help shield his face. He can just make out the vague outline of Dad’s body, but with how his head is angled downward, he can only see from the waist down. Whether Dad is standing there with a frown or a more neutral expression—Link prays to the Goddess for the latter—it’s unsure which face Dad pulls.

Link rolls his shoulders to chase the pain away. As silence drags once more, Link feels his chest rise in warning with the beginnings of a yawn. He bites his tongue and closes his eyes to keep it from showing. Without a wink of sleep he knows that he’s in for a long day ahead. As much as Link likes to push himself to the limit and beyond, today is going to suck worse than an octorok. The mysterious pull that beckoned him out of bed may have been absent tonight, but his need to know won in the end. Link only stayed in bed for an hour or two before sneaking out. Still unsure what calls for him out there, however, his curiosity remains. But for now, all he wants to do is crawl in bed and sleep.

Taking even breaths, Link’s head lulls forward. The fists he held on top of his thighs slacken. The joints in his fingers hurt from being held tightly for some time, but the release and relief brings feeling back into them. What he would give to go back in time and tell himself to stay in bed and sleep. He wouldn’t be in trouble if he just obeyed orders and got some precious shut eye...

“You’re not sleeping, are you, soldier?” Dad’s grumbling voice is strong enough to shake Link awake. Throwing his head back up like a marionette’s puppet master playing with his strings, Link blinks to remain alert. Looking up, blue eyes meet fatigued ones. Dad resumes standing upright with his arms behind his back, staring down at him. “If you thought I’d let you off with a slap on the wrist, you have a world of hurt to expect. Stand up.”

Link doesn’t let his tired body get the better of him. Muscles sore and limbs aching for rest, Link ignores it all to remain acquiescent of his duties. Locking his knees to keep from swaying back and forth, he blinks a little too much up at Dad. Arms held limply at his sides, his fingers don’t even flinch toward his shirt to play with the edges.

“Sunrise will break soon,” Dad explains, “and I thought it would be a great opportunity to volunteer your services for kitchen duty this morning.” There isn’t any remorse in his voice. Not even a playful laugh to ride on Link’s nerves. Link knows it’s not out of hatred, but it still hurts to be treated like this. It’s deserved, though, considering he’s done this to himself. Dad doesn’t let him have a chance to think long about how much he doesn’t want to do this before adding, “You are to return to your barrack, you will get dressed for the day, and march straight to the kitchens. There, you will be put to work, and once breakfast is over, you will return to your normal training regime. Am I clear?”

Link nods with dejection. Ears still tipped down, he imagines he must look pathetic right now. His ears do a little twitch upon hearing the hum Dad makes as he waits for a proper answer.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Link gives a firmer nod and nearly shouts to the floor, “Yes, sir!”
“That’s more like it. Off with you, I’m done with you for today.”

Link feels like his head might fall off with how hard he nods once more before marching for the door. He opens it and slips outside, but before he can shut it completely, he hears Dad send him off with one final comment.

“Do not disappoint me, Link.”

Stepping out into the chill air, Link isn’t surprised when he sees the sky turn from the dark blue of night into the beginnings of morning pinks and oranges to the East. A shiver runs through him when he remembers he’s still wearing only his sleep clothes. The camp may be settled near Death Mountain, but it doesn’t mean the volcano’s warmth can reach him down here. Especially with the night air swirling around with the odd breeze here and there.

A few guards are already awake and getting prepared to sound the reveille. Link pays them no mind as he walks past them. Without a care for conformity right now, Link holds his arms across his chest to keep warm. He doesn’t make much of a sound that would disturb his barrack mates when he sneaks back into the house. Some resume their snoring as they’re comfortably deep in sleep, and others toss and turn as they await for the sound of the bugle outside.

Finding his bunk, Link quickly sheds his clothes and puts on his uniform for the day. Clothes situated and boots pulled on, he’s ready for a long and grueling day ahead of him. Once everything is squared away after giving himself a once over in the darkness of the barrack, he considers himself dressed and quietly stalks back outside.

The sun hasn’t breached the horizon yet, but in an hour its light will shine from around Death Mountain’s hard rocky edges; bathing the camp with its warmth where the volcano seems to lack. As Link makes his way toward the kitchens, he stops for only a moment to watch some hotfeather pigeons hop around nearby. Pecking at the ground and walking like little cuccos, Link smirks when one nips curiously at a seed-shaped rock. When it finally realizes it’s not food, it flips its wings outward and takes off into the sky. Frustrated.

Likewise, its other feathered friends follow suit when they, too, realize there is no food on the ground here. Not yet, at least. Sometimes a brawl could take place outside depending on what’s for breakfast. If it’s something everyone wants and there’s a short supply, there have been fights that have occurred. Link tries to steer clear of the idiocy over wanting slightly fresh bread or still warm eggs. Food is food. To him, it’s not worth fighting over when there’s other things they could be spending their time arguing about.

At the kitchen house, Link pushes the door open and is immediately greeted with a frowning soldier. Most likely having to wake early and help serve breakfast due to a disciplinary decision. The frowning soldier pays him no mind as he watches a cooking pot full of water; waiting for it to boil. Two other men busy themselves with working on cutting bread slices and… counting the rice grains?

Unsure what to do with himself, Link surveys the area to see what needs attention. The kitchen house is one large room and most of the space is taken up by tables and benches. Near the back wall opposite of the door are shelves of provisions. The man cutting bread looks like he’s in a sour mood as well and Link doesn’t fancy getting on his nerves since he’s using a knife at the moment. The one doing what Link can only assume is counting each individual rice grain certainly doesn’t know what he’s doing, and Link won’t bother him right now either. He’s too tired to see if he can push the guy in the right direction.

A forced grunt that sounds almost pig-like comes from behind and Link immediately jumps to the side. He didn’t mean to block the doorway, and he stands at attention as the kitchen master—a burly man with long gray hair and a thick beard to match—comes lumbering in with extra wood for the fire under the cooking pot.

“Beat it,” the kitchen master growls behind his shoulder after dropping the wood to the floor. “We’re not ready yet.”

“I’m here to help. Commander’s orders.” Link makes sure his chin is parallel to the floor and his feet are together as he stands. Arms behind his back once more, he stares at the older man who watches him with an intense gaze.

Standing in silence, Link bites the tip of his tongue when he feels a yawn try to creep up on him. So long as he stares ahead and doesn’t give in to realizing how tired he is, he’ll be fine. He can’t let the kitchen master take notice that he’s tired. If he’s turned away from work, he’s not entirely sure if he’ll wind up in trouble over it or not. Link leans on the side that he will hear an earful from Dad if he’s told to leave because he might fall asleep on duty. That would be the best case scenario. He isn’t sure what the worst case would be, and he certainly doesn’t wish to find that out now.

But the kitchen master only tuts at him and finally turns around to face Link. He watches as the man groans at the soldier counting rice. Surely he has a lot on his plate, and Link wouldn’t mind offering a hand today—orders or not, he’ll help however he can.

Before anyone in the kitchen can think to say anything, everyone startles at the sound of the bugle coming from outside. The time they wasted standing around is lost and they only have a few moments left to prepare for a hungry horde. The kitchen master, fire flaming in his eyes at how unprepared everything is, shoots daggers in Link’s direction.

Pointing a gnarled finger at him, he shouts with the same ire and force as a drill sergeant, “Start cracking eggs. And I swear to Hylia, if you get any shell in the bowl as you crack them, I’ll break your skull in two.”

Used to meaningless empty threats, Link nods and runs to the back of the room to grab a large bowl. He sets himself to work with cracking eggs. It’s not his favorite task whenever he has to work in the kitchen—which isn’t often—but it beats standing around like a doormat. It’s work and that’s all he let’s himself think about. He tunes into the rhythmic sound of eggshells breaking against the edge of the bowl and how the discarded shells clatter against one another as he tosses them to the floor. He’ll clean the mess later when the threat of dozens of hungry men isn’t looming nearer and nearer.

He doesn’t listen as the kitchen master yells at the other three soldiers dawdling about. The shock and boom of the master’s voice doesn’t bother Link when it’s not directed toward him. All he has attention for are the loads of eggs he has to deal with. Everything else can wait.

Link blinks his eyes a little too much to keep them open and his teeth refuse to release his tongue. By the end of the morning rush, he’s certain he’s going to bite his tongue until its gone completely numb.

~*~*~*~

With the last plate served and the tables full of tired, but content soldiers and cadets, the kitchen crew finally relaxes. Link leans his back against the wall and slides down until he’s seated on the floor. If he knew the kitchen master intended for him to not only crack all the eggs, but also cook them too, things could have gone a lot smoother in the beginning of the chaos. After being yelled at for breaking too many yolks when he struggled with a spatula to flip them, he eventually got the hang of it. For now, with everyone busy shoveling breakfast into their mouths, he can take a second to breathe.

The heat in the kitchen house builds up with so many people inside and the sun’s early morning light beaming on the roof outside. Link uses a sleeve to wipe sweat off his brow before letting his arm slump back to his side. If it weren’t for how warm it got in here and the overwhelming smells of so much cooked food, he’d probably eat something. Spying the three soldiers from earlier dishing themselves up and stuffing their faces tells him it seems safe to eat right now. But he’s just not hungry at all, which isn’t normally like him. He’s used all his energy to keep from lagging behind during the breakfast rush. Now the very thought of eating and wasting more energy trying to chew and swallow doesn’t sit well with him.

As everyone busies themselves with their food, Link tries something he’ll most likely wind up regretting later. The way he sees it, it’s a problem for future Link to deal with. He’s exhausted and doesn’t have any sense left to think clearly. He’s already regretting not sleeping last night, and with the sun still crawling high in the sky, he won’t last all day without a little rest.

Pulling his knees up to his chest, he wraps his arms around his legs to keep them from sliding back down. He buries his head between his arms and lets the temporary darkness consume him. Eyes pressed into the knob of a knee, he lets out a little sigh and stills himself.

The noise in the kitchen dulls as Link focuses on the darkness that slowly surrounds him. Gone is the kitchen master yelling for everyone to clean up after themselves as they rush out the door. Gone are all the soldiers making a ruckus and filling the room with unyielding chatter. And gone is his father’s demands from earlier that Link obey orders by marching outside to resume his daily training for the day. Everything has disappeared to leave Link with a moment of reprieve.

The void of darkness behind his eyes bloom as he starts to see stars. They twinkle at first, like little fairies fluttering about in the wind. But they soon blink and turn a pale gray the longer he stares at them. Everything is black in Link’s eyes except these strange dots of gray. Some of the dots transform into varying shades of gray, and some hold hints of light blues. The darkness lifts into something lighter as the world begins distorting itself. The dots stretch and pull as everything warps all around him. Something misty flows like a lazy river that sweeps from nowhere until it settles in front of Link. It looks like fog, but Link has never seen such fog before that moves similar to water. It paints over the remaining darkness until everything goes through an unimaginable metamorphosis. The dots leave his vision as if he’s walking past them, but he can’t feel his legs moving his body. The darkness lightens more until it reveals an odd bluish color in its wake.

There, resting somewhere deep in this expanse of nothingness is something magnificent. Link can’t discern what this thing is. All he knows is that it’s important. The shape of it swirls and dances in the distance as it tries to become something familiar for him to recognize. It’s long and has an odd hilt at the top, but how Link knows it’s a hilt, he isn’t quite sure. But something deep inside him tells him this is what he needs to find. It’s the thing hiding behind the siren-like call he’s been hearing in his head late at night.

The object glows when it senses his presence with a striking blue light. The darkness breaks away and all he has eyes for is the blue light.

A tinny voice that sounds like its several feet away calls out from the direction of the strange object, “... here. ”

Link’s ears twitch. Surely he didn’t hear something just now? Link rubs an ear and waits to see if it repeats itself. He doesn’t want to approach the mysterious object. A childish fear in him says to keep his distance. He doesn’t know if it holds any malicious intent. What could be so special about this thing that it’s starting to talk to him? A small voice in the back of his head, even farther away than the object in front of him, tells Link that this is only a dream. That it can’t hurt him here. That he shouldn’t be scared of a dream because it’s not real to begin with.

His vision tunnels until all he can see is the vague silhouette of the object still trying to form itself. The glow blinds him as it whispers in the distance, a little closer now, “ I’m here. ”

A large foot kicking at his boot startles Link into jerking his head up and bumping it against the wall. His hand reaches up fast to cradle where a soft ache starts to bloom, and everything comes flooding back to him. The room is brightly lit as the sun continues climbing from the horizon line to the east. With the doors wide open in front of him, he can see soldiers getting ready to line up and start marching off.

“Go on, get out!” the kitchen master growls, kicking him again.

Link scrambles to his feet and pays the kitchen master no mind as he rushes out the door. He isn’t sure what time it is, or if that dream was due to him losing his mind with a lack of sleep, but he knows one thing right now. Today is going to be long and it won’t get easier if he lets himself fall behind.

~*~*~*~

Exhaustion is the least of Link’s worries once he stumbles into his barrack for the evening. With his body sore from core training and perfecting his posture while wielding a one-handed sword, the only thing in mind right now is shutting everyone out. Some rumors have already spread that he’s been caught and reprimanded, but the obvious threats that if the barrack has to suffer for his actions then he’ll be in for a world of hurt. Not that he hasn’t heard it all before. Of course, he hasn’t always been on the receiving end of such threats and the thought that someone will finally take the initiative to act on it has him nervous on the inside.

He’s only a kid after all… Would anyone really wish to hurt him because he’s been sneaking out? He’d rather not wait around and find out who’d be stupid enough to try. He may be dead tired, but he’s not going to be taken down so easily.

Link falls onto his bed without grace and plants his face squarely into his pillow when he makes it to his bunk. He doesn’t want to waste the small morsel of energy he has left to lift the blanket and crawl underneath to rest. After the sun has set, everyone is allowed some free time to do as they please. Sometimes the men will play risky gambling games and lose what few rupees they’ve earned while working here. Others may continue their exercising as they ride the high of an adrenaline rush. And then there’s the few, like Link, who steer clear from everyone else and wish to decompress and enjoy some alone time.

Link sighs deeply into his pillow before pushing himself up into a seated position. Bending his knees toward his chest, he makes quick work at undoing the laces of his boots and toe-ing them off. He sets them together on the floor at the foot of his bed with the laces tucked inside. That done, he slowly picks each button out of his uniform and sheds each article of clothing until he’s left in his underclothes.

With the heat from the day’s sun still lingering outside, there isn’t much relief once he’s barely clothed. He should change into some clean clothes considering he’s worn these all day, but he just doesn’t have it in himself to deal with that. All he can manage is to fold his uniform neatly and place it on the far corner of his bed. They’ll be fine there.

Returning his weary head to his pillow, Link bottles a tired groan as he finally lets himself relax into his bed. If anyone makes quiet remarks about him as he drifts to sleep, he pays them absolutely no mind. Link ignores everything around him and doesn’t scrunch his nose when some older men and boys wander around the room, smelling as though they haven’t bathed in a few days. Shutting everyone and everything out is all Link can do in order to get some much needed rest. His body aches and his mind is far from awake right now. All he has attention for is how comfortable his bed and pillow are right now.

Chapter Text

“Hellooo…”

Eyes pinched shut, Link curls into a tight ball underneath the covers. When did he manage to crawl under the thin blanket on his bed? Surely no one is kind enough in his barrack to tuck him in. He’s not much of a little boy anymore. He doesn’t need someone to make sure he’s tucked in when he can take care of himself. Link puffs air out his nose when the frayed edge of the blanket starts tickling his face.

Shuffling around on his bed enough for the frame to squeak, he manages to get an arm out from his wrapped cocoon of a blanket and lifts his head up. Staring into the dark of the room he spies no other soldiers awake. Well, what he can see from where he lies, at least. A quick glance around the room shows that no one is sitting or picking their head up at any hint of a sound. He isn’t sure if anyone’s eyes are open if they’re pretending to sleep.

Besides a few obvious snores and sounds of men tossing and rolling in their sleep, the room is plunged into relative silence. Even the most curious sounds of some men groaning and hissing past their teeth is absent tonight. A stray thought finds itself in Link’s mind that he still has no idea what those men, with their odd sounds and peculiar movements under their blankets, could be doing. If he were brave enough to pull Dad aside to ask him such a question, perhaps his father would enlighten him on what the men are doing. But that can wait for another day. Maybe when he’s on better terms with his dad for starters.

When Link stills himself on his bed, his ears begin to faintly twitch at any hushed noise. The whistle from the nose of an older soldier is the first thing he hears, but it’s nothing new or important to focus on. After so many weeks of being in the barrack, Link has learned how to shut out trivial noises that aren’t worth losing sleep over. Ignoring the snores, grumblings, and bed frames that squeak and groan, he can’t detect anything out of the ordinary.

Squinting at the dark and over toward the closed door, Link wonders why he woke up at all. Judging from the lack of light that usually spills from beneath the door, it’s certainly still some point in the dead of night. It doesn’t evade his mind there isn’t a torchlight on the other side of the door. The night guards must be keeping watch at another barrack tonight.

Settling back into his pillow and letting his eyes drift slowly closed, Link doesn’t bother pulling his arm back under the cover. He stretches his legs out as he tries to quietly fight untangling his blanket before remaining still while lying on his back. The moment he lets out a relieving sigh in the hopes of finding his way back to sleep, he hears it for true this time.

“Hellooo?”

Sitting up swiftly has the old metal bed frame rattling and groaning, but it doesn’t rouse anyone else from sleep. Staring at the curled lumps of soldiers in their respective beds shows him that no one is sniggering like they’ve pulled off a harmless prank. Link’s free hand comes up to rub intensively at a droopy eye. It has to all be in his head because any sound close to a voice would surely wake a nearby soldier or two. With no one else reacting to the mysterious voice, Link drops his hand back down to the bed and waits. His face pinches as he listens for the voice. Tuning out the usual sounds of the quiet barrack provides him with nothing at first. Until…

“It’s me… I’m here.”

With a sour frown on his face, Link doesn’t know what possesses him to crawl out of bed, but the attitude he displays by dramatically throwing his blanket off and stomping both feet on the floor wakes the soldier closest to his bed. Link pays the growling man no mind as he crouches to the floor and peers beneath his bed. There isn’t a figure lying under there with an annoying smirk that says I tricked you! and Link isn’t sure if that’s a relief or not. Turning his head, he peeks under the bed next to his. There isn’t anyone there either. Link sits up on his knees and tries to recall the volume of the voice he heard when an irritated grumble draws his attention instead.

“Get back in bed, boy,” the grouchy soldier tells him from his bed. In the dark, Link can still see how the man leans over the side of his bed to stare down at him on the floor. He can feel the warmth of the man’s stale breath as he harshly whispers, “I’m not gonna let you get us all in trouble. Go to sleep.” The man punctuates every word as if Link has trouble comprehending the situation he’s nearly gotten his barrack mates in thanks to his late night adventures last evening.

Even though a part of Link wants to be silent and comply with any orders given, even if it’s by a man he holds no more respect for than some of the other repugnant soldiers, Link resists.

Staring with wide eyes at the man, Link tells him, “I heard someone. They’re keeping me awake.”

He watches as the tired man uses an arm to lift himself higher to glance around the sleeping quarters. The man huffs through his nose as he surveys the room and finds nothing of notable interest. As he returns his gaze down on Link, it leaves the boy feeling like he’s finally starting to lose his mind.

The man growls back, “No one is awake except us. There’s no boogeyman out to get ya.” The man lets himself fall back into his pillow hard enough that his old mattress squeaks from his jostling. His words are stern, tired, and full of ire as he commands once more, “Get your ass in bed, boy.”

Rather than do as he’s told, Link sits there with a blank expression. If it bothers the man that he hasn’t moved yet, the man shows no sign of losing his temper yet. Link watches as the man raises an arm over his head to shield his eyes in what can only be his attempt at hiding from Link’s constant staring.

Sitting silently on his knees, Link dares not to move to disturb the fragile peace of the barrack. Hanging his head low until his chin cracks against his sternum, he waits. Unsure what the voice wants from him, Link closes his eyes to focus solely on coercing the voice to sound off again. Each gentle snore from within the barrack has the tips of his ears twitching and turning as they follow each noise. His ears even perk up at the soft whistle of the man’s nose who told him a second ago to return to his bed if he knew what was good for him. So long as he remains perfectly still and quiet, he wouldn’t be of any disturbance to anyone.

“It’s me…”

“There it is again!” Link’s eyes fly open as he tosses his head up and twists his body all around to find out where the voice came from.

“Quiet, boy!” the man warns. He throws his arm off his face and sits up to lean menacingly over toward Link again. Link doesn’t flinch as the man looms close from where he sits on the floor. He doesn’t swallow a nervous gulp when the man’s arid breath blows past Link as he says for the final time, “There’s nothing there! It’s all in your head, dammit. Now go to sleep or I’ll flay your little body to pieces. If I have to tie you to the bed, then you will—”

“Hellooo?”

The man’s words fade out as the voice comes back. Link turns his head curiously to the closed door and ponders for a moment. He doesn’t care for the soldier’s empty threats. He knows that the man is physically stronger than him, but Link’s endurance capabilities have been proven to be unmatched by any cadet and soldier at the training camp thus far. Perhaps the man is right. What he said might be right and all it took is for him to say as such for Link to finally understand the situation.

“It’s all in my head…” Link mutters to himself, which in turn cuts the man off from his irate ramblings.

“What?” One eyebrow raises as the man stares at Link, tongue-tied now.

"It's in my head. Just like you said." Link throws the man a cheeky grin. Even in the dark, it's unmistakable. "Thanks for your help."

The man for once is stunned into silence. Lost in his own mind at wondering what Link means. Link doesn't explain further as he pushes himself up off the floor and bounds across the room toward the door. He doesn't bother wasting time turning back to retrieve his over clothes and certainly not even his boots. He doesn’t have any time to dawdle. The voice wants him now and he's going out in search of it. The wooden boards in the barrack creak angrily as Link's feet thump over them with long strides.

When he swings the door wide open to let the moon's bright light inside, he can't help the excited smile that spreads over his boyish face. Link ignores the man, who yells loud enough to rouse several other barrack members from sleep. The second Link sets one foot past the threshold, he makes a mad dash across the yard. He doesn't have a second to spare to check where the patrolling guards are stationed. With the moon being his only source of light in the darkness it appears to be a safe bet that they aren't around.

With his arms pumping back and forth as he sprints toward the dirt pathway that splits the training camp away from Minshi Woods, Link takes a chance to head up the path. Though Death Mountain is incredibly close, the air is shockingly cold in his lungs. His throat burns with ice as he runs further up the path. The training camp doesn't have search dogs to chase after any insubordinates or deserters, but the sound of a horn alarming the entire camp that something isn't right rings with danger in his perked-up ears. But even with his mouth and throat dry from the cool night air, and his muscles not properly stretched before running off, Link refuses to obey and return like the good little soldier he’s supposed to be.

Rounding the corner of a small hill to his left, Link finds his way back, now off the beaten path toward the stone archway he stood before last night. His feet skid to a halt with dirt and prickly grass squished between his toes. His chest puffs out dramatically as he gasps for air and scans eagerly through the dense, ominous fog that encapsulates the edges of the Lost Woods. With quick hands, he brushes hair out of his face. He tries to will his heart to not beat as fast because the rush of blood in his ears deafens the sound of the horn and men in search of him.

Refusing to spin around to see if anyone is hot on his tail, he stares anxiously at the glowing orange flame in front of him. Standing before him is a fire burning on a wooden lantern. He doesn’t recall seeing a flame last night, but he has no time to question its existence now. He doesn’t have the time to sit and wonder who or what could have lit the lantern. The fire’s embers don't flow upward the way he expects them to the more he stares at them. Instead, there appears to be a breeze he can't see or feel because the fire's embers flow to the right.

His eyes search everywhere around the fire for any sort of trap only to find nothing at all. Link mumbles under his breath, "Say it... Where do I go?"

"Hellooo... Come here, it's me."

"I know!" he whispers into a growl. He throws his arms up in the air as he speaks to the fire, "But where do I go?!"

"Come here. Come find me."

Before he has a second to answer the voice by asking for further guidance, the sounds of men grow closer. Link gasps when he forces his feet forward to cross the threshold of the stone archway. It’s the farthest he's ever gone so far upon finding the woods. The suspicion that a breeze is causing the embers to float to the right continues to confound him. The air is still as the night when he steps closer to the fire. Trepidation shocks Link into action when he spots the faint, familiar glow of another fire burning to the right.

"Link!" a man calls from behind. The sound of heavy boots crunching grass and stomping around like a wild bull has Link running away from a familiar voice.

Coming up to the second fire's lantern, he watches how the embers flow to the left this time. Turning toward the direction of the embers, he spies yet another flame in the bluish-gray distance. He hasn't a chance to let himself ponder and think who is burning these lanterns. Or how they're able to defy the laws of how still air moves. He follows after the embers and upon the third lantern, he sees the embers flowing lazily toward the left. He follows it like breadcrumbs until he approaches a set of twin burning lanterns this time. They flow in similar directions, but resting against the one on the far left is a wooden torch.

"I'm here, I've missed you."

The voice echoes heavily through the air. Link shivers at the insinuation it seems to know him. He's met so many people since his father enrolled him as a young soldier in training, but it's a voice he has no recollection of. It seems feminine in nature, but its awfully tinny and leaves a hollow echo in his mind. And yet, it implies that they've met at some point. A time he cannot remember, unfortunately.

Looking around, all he can see are vague silhouettes of short and fat trees. The fog rules like a king of its own here because it shrouds everything in mystery. A crow caws somewhere in the distance, and the delicate sounds of wildlife prancing and hopping along the forest floor are all keen to his ears. Stealing a glance back the way he had come, Link stands still and listens. No one calls for him by name where he stands. Nothing shouts out for him, nor does he hear the horn signal if the men have found something or are heading back. The air is so quiet here he could probably hear a mouse snore if he listened hard enough.

The wooden torch leaning against the lantern is tempting, but it brings on a wrack of nerves. This is the part where he'll go missing for days on end. Lost in the woods unbeknownst to anyone where he's gone off to. The fear he felt last night of imagining a stalfos meandering about for a final resting place comes back to mind at the most inopportune time. The thought of his body rotting, but still alive as he wanders through the woods in search of the source of the voice would be enough for him to turn back and accept his due punishment.

But when Link spins on his heels and makes his way to march back toward the other fire lanterns, a blanket of fog swiftly swarms toward him like a sudden wave. It flows similar to sea foam as it rolls through the air and bounds toward him. Before it has a chance to touch him or circle him to throw all sense of direction around, Link jumps back toward the safety of the left most lantern.

The childish fear of being lost in unfamiliar woods is quickly snuffed out of mind when the voice calls back again, "Have you missed me?"

He doesn't answer. The voice doesn't ask twice, and as it echoes in his head and reverberates into silence, it falls quiet.

If the fog is the voice's doing, then surely it knows of his presence in the woods. Link recalls the times he's heard it and knows while he was back at the camp, it seemed to have only a small number of repeated phrases. Now that he's past the threshold and standing in the woods, it's speaking to him as if they're old friends now. Whatever it wants, all Link can do is hope it's nothing sinister. Heading back doesn’t appear to be an option anymore.

Taking the torch in hand, Link holds the wrapped end to one of the lanterns until the torch burns with life. Before he sets off on this new journey, the voice chimes back again.

"Come find me... They'll help you if you get lost. I'm here. It's me..."

They'll help you if you get lost? Link blinks warily at the fog and searches frantically for anyone who might approach. If his idea of stalfos turns out to be true, he'll definitely never disobey another order ever again. That is, if he can make it out of here alive.

Realization strikes in an instant as if he's been struck by a bolt of lightning. With one hand holding the torch, Link's other hand flies up fast and strong to smack himself in the head.

A sword! He forgot to bring a sword! In his rush to ditch the man who told him to go to bed and flee before anyone could stop him, Link didn't even allow himself a second to think of what sort of dangers he could potentially run into out here. The option to turn back isn't available now, so the only thing he can do is keep moving forward. At least the torch can be used to ward anything off. As far as Link knows, most living things don’t care to be burned and singed. If it takes him all night to find whatever it is the voice wants him to find—a person? A beast? An object?—then he'll do it. So long as the rolling fog doesn't envelop him like a tidal wave, then he'll force himself to keep walking.

Unsure where to start, Link decides to follow the lantern's guidance. The flames for both seem to blow in the left-most general direction. So that's the path he'll follow. With the torch held aloft in one hand, Link keeps his other held into a fist. His hand-only combat skills aren't refined the way he would like, but he has enough knowledge on how to dodge and avoid taking damage to get by. His dad would scold him relentlessly if he discovers Link came out this far without a weapon by his side. But then again, that’s going to be a problem for future Link to deal with later.

As Link walks straight to stay on the invisible path, he halts when it approaches. The cloud of fog surges toward him and he immediately takes cautious steps backward. When it doesn't give up so easily, Link feels his heart beat sporadically in his chest. When all seems hopeless as he continues backing away, suddenly, the thicker fog thins and disappears. The blue haze of the foggy atmosphere still thrives in all directions, but the heavier fog is gone now.

With one eye squinting at such a curious spectacle, Link dares to try something. Rather than continue backing away or trying a different direction, he slowly creeps forward again. He's thankful the ground isn't like the rough and rocky surface of Death Mountain as he inches his way forward. Still barefoot and only in his underclothes of shorts and a thin shirt, he isn’t anywhere near equipped for any type of adventure. But it’s too late to go back and put on proper clothes and boots. He has to face this thing head on with whatever clothes he has on his back.

At the first sign of the fog returning to swallow him up, he jumps back until it fades once more.

Standing still, Link stares ahead to see if there's any signs of a visible barrier that he's overlooking. But alas, all he sees are the same fat trees and nothing but grass. Specks of bluish fog float in the air all around, but that isn't anything new.

He's about to give it another try when something new floats in front of his eyes. It's another type of speck, but not the same kind as the fog. This one burns red where it's the hottest and turns into nothing but thin wisps of smoke. The fire is slowly burning the cloth wrapped around the torch, and the burnt bits are floating upward... and to the right now.

Link swings his torch arm around and holds it in a different direction, and every time he moves it to confuse the flame of where it is in the forest—as well as his own orientation—the flames seem to continue pointing in the same general direction.

The woods are known for being unpropitious, but so long as Link has this torch in his hand, it feels oddly serene. If he hadn’t known to follow the burning embers, he’s sure he’d wind up lost forever in a maze of trees and fog. The distant and hushed sounds of wildlife that dance in the shadows should frighten him, but the sight of the occasional deer or some fluttering nightbirds only help sooth Link’s nerves.

Taking slow steps forward, Link makes several abrupt stops to gauge where the embers flow next. At the sudden change from straight ahead to left, and then another right, Link wanders and meanders through the woods. It reminds him of the first time his dad took him to Castle Town. Dad had training of his own, and since he couldn’t leave Link alone in Hateno, Link was forced to come along. The more Link felt like he was looping back and spinning in circles around the woods, it recalls memories of the times he’d run around the streets of Castle Town. With tall houses and shops blocking the view of the castle, Link’s certainty of his surroundings had been tossed all away. Forced to climb atop barrels and even running down lengths of streets to figure out his location, he had been able to mentally chart out each and every path for himself.

Much like at Castle Town, Link keeps track of each similarly shaped tree. Though they’re all short and fat things, not all of them have openings in the trunk like gaping maws that look ready to take a bite when he’s not looking. A lone, open treasure chest acts as a place marker near the trunk of one tree, and if Link happens to pass it again, he’ll know that he’s doubled back and needs to reacquaint himself with where to head next.

Another quick stop, Link stares carefully at the flames and sees how they drift to the left once more. When he turns to the left, he sees a little clearing. Coming into the clearing, he stops again and waits. Standing before him are what appear to be two cliffs that have a single opening between them. A decent sized pathway that’s suitable for at least two people to walk side by side leads down a slope. But with the density of the fog ever present, it’s difficult for Link to judge what could be waiting for him there. When the embers continue pointing in that direction, Link swallows a nervous gulp before heading forward.

As he reaches the beginnings of the pathway, the voice finally comes back to sound off again, louder and more insistent than before.

“That’s it. Come here. Come find me. We’ve been away for so long. I need you, and you need me. Closer… Closer... Closer .”

Link’s strides turn to baby steps as he shuffles slowly down the slope and finds himself on one end of a massive hollowed tree. The tree is on its side and wedged between the two cliffsides—acting as a tunnel. Link brings the torch closer to himself while using a hand to shield the fire from going out. Stepping into the darkness of the hollowed tree’s shadow, he can’t help how his head whips around wildly to make sure there aren’t any keese or wolves nearby. He cannot hear the flapping of keese wings nor the snuffles and growls of a wolf. Though he can’t see or hear them it doesn’t mean he’s automatically in the clear.

“I can feel you. Can you feel me?” the voice asks. It speaks louder now that he’s halfway through the tunnel. It becomes more persistent and almost impatient with the wait. “We’re almost together once again. It’s me… Please, remember me.”

It’s hard for Link to understand the meaning of all this, but even though the voice acts as though its a thing that’s missed him, he’s starting to feel a compulsive pull in his very core. He has no memories of this voice that’s in his head. He doesn’t remember ever losing anything of ultimate significance either. But it’s almost as though this thing is a part of him and it wishes to be reunited once more.

Link emerges from the other side of the hollowed tree’s tunnel when a rush of supernatural wind blows past him. It tosses his hair around and he has to use his free hand to protect his face from any embers before they blow in his eyes. Pinching his eyes closed, Link pauses and waits again. The smell of thick smoke assaults his sense of smell and the sudden feeling of dread forces his eyes open to stare in disbelief at the torch in his hand. Link’s mouth falls open in shock as the fire dies from the intense wind.

Link twists at the side to stare back the way he had come. How will he ever find his way out of here now?

“Come here… It’s me… I’ve missed you.”

Coming out of the tunnel, the blue fog has vanished. The path continues down and is lined by taller trees. Link’s hands fall down to his side, but he continues holding the torch. It could be his only weapon even though it’s a glorified stick at this point. But something inside him tells him he’s not in any danger here. A sense of calm washes over him as he walks down the path. Stones are embedded into the earth and he makes sure not to stub his toes. The trees look normal here, and that alone is enough for Link to feel slightly at ease.

Lining the path he walks are odd plants he’s never seen before. Stalky green things emerge from the ground and loom over his head. Bulbs sprout from the ends of the stalks with a luminous glow to light the way for him. Link’s training at the military camp isn’t only to build his physical strength and endurance, but to also enhance his knowledge. He has to know the various plants that grow in the wild to know what they’ll do. Which ones can help with his speed, which ones might be poisonous and not safe for consumption. But these bean pod-like plants he walks past are some he’s never seen nor read about before. They’re something new entirely.

Both of his hands grab the torch as he holds it defensively across his chest. The boyish fear of uncertainty and all of the unknowns of this mysterious place struggle to win against the slowly hardening determination of bravery. When he reaches leveled ground, he pauses and stares ahead at a most curious sight.

The largest, possibly oldest tree he’s ever seen is directly in front of him. When he traveled from Castle Town to the training camp several weeks ago, he couldn’t help but take notice of the impressive tree that sat in the heart of the Lost Woods. Even from where he stands, he can tell that it would take several men to surround the tree to encircle it. With their arms all spread as far as they can reach, it could easily take up to twenty men, maybe more, before the circle would be complete.

In the moonlight, shadows dance and play tricks as he looks up past the leafy canopy of other trees midway up the large trunk. Perhaps its the lack of sleep and proper lighting, but it appears this tree almost has a rough semblance of a face with how the bark is shaped.

A twig breaks somewhere behind a bush nearby.

Link’s head snaps back down toward the ground and searches for the source of the sound. He’s almost sure it came from his left, but he isn’t positive. The hushed quiet of this forest causes his ears to ring from the deafening silence. All of the wildlife and even the wind holds its breath due to his unexpected presence.

It’s a foolish thing to do, but Link calls out into the muted darkness, “Hello? Where are you?”

The quiet makes his own voice echo in his mind. His ears twitch at the sound of a bird flapping its wings in the trees, but he doesn’t receive an answer.

“Hello?” he calls again, louder this time. His hands grip the torch tight enough that the sweat on his palms causes the torch to slide in his grasp. Even though the burnt end is already extinguished, he can still feel the remnants of heat as he holds it close to his face. “What do you want from me? Come out, now!”

Link tries to add commanding force to his voice the way sergeants and his father use on soldiers, but it’s no use. The strange and unusual voice he’s been hearing has fallen completely silent.

Thinking carefully, Link walks on tiptoes as he comes closer toward the central point of this strange forest. In the low lighting, he sees something odd nestled into a pedestal. The object glows dimly with a radiant blue light. The light dims, but it acts as a sort of beacon that leads Link directly up the short step and onto the massive pedestal. Standing at the edge, he finds that this pedestal is a large triangle in the ground. He instinctively swings the torch around to see properly, but he's reminded immediately that the fire had already been put out. With a frown, he returns the torch close to his chest like he's cradling a weapon.

One small step forward, he approaches the object in the center of the triangle. Peering toward the sky that's obscured by the largest tree's many leaves and branches, and gazing to his left and right, he wonders what a sword is doing here. It's obvious by the shape of the hilt and the exposed part of the blade that a weapon is stuck in the triangle's pedestal. Waiting for someone to come by and take it.

Link tilts his head to the side as he finds himself losing focus while watching the sword's blue light glow bright and then dim again. He takes another half-step closer and pauses—waits for a trap to set off. With his breath caught and tangled in his throat, he wills even his blood to slow in his veins to listen for any sort of trap to activate. But when nothing happens, he surprises himself with a relaxed sigh.

But the sigh happens all too suddenly, for they finally emerge from the shadows to surround him.

Dozens of creatures disturb the tranquil peace of the forest where fallen branches snap under their weight. Leaves crunch and rustle on the ground, as well as above. When Link spins around to see what's coming for him, he loses his grip on the torch. The crack of the torch landing unceremoniously to the stone triangle alerts everyone here that he's been found. Strange critters hide around bushes and trees, and ominous flapping sounds come from the treetops. He's surrounded and he can't see clearly to know what they are or what they want.

But Link doesn't have time to worry about what they plan on doing with him. He has to ensure his own safety and his instincts kick into gear. Turning this way and that way in search of a weapon, he nearly smacks his own forehead out of foolishness when he forgets about the sword stuck in the stone. He twists around to grab hold of the hilt with both hands and it slides effortlessly out of the hole. It feels right in his hands. He doesn't have a moment to spare to give it a few test swings to check the weight of it; to feel the balance in his grip.

With both hands still on the hilt, he swings the sword back and prepares to charge for the creatures coming to steal him away. His feet leave the stone triangle and he departs from the pathway he walked a moment ago. His arms are ready to throw a wide arc with the sword when a booming, demanding voice shouts from above—loud enough to make his ears ring.

"Do not raise that sword to them!"

He isn't sure what overcomes him, but Link halts in his tracks. He skids on the grass and holds the sword inappropriately over his shoulder as he pauses on bringing it down hard into the center of... What sort of creature is this?

Link freezes in place when the moonlight shines down in time for him to see what appears to be a little wooden thing with stumpy legs and arms. It falls on its backside and covers its face with both arms like a coward. If he looks closely at the odd creature, it appears to have something covering its face. Cloth perhaps. Or maybe a large leaf?

"Put down the sword and come here, child." The voice, masculine in nature, speaks with utmost authority. It reminds Link of Dad in a way.

When Link twists around after determining this wooden critter isn’t a threat, he returns the sword to a more comfortable position by his side. Link's head spins left and right, and even glancing backward as he searches desperately for whomever spoke to him. It certainly wasn't the voice that called him all the way out here. That voice came to him directly into his head, and it was oddly tinny and seemed distant. But this one is loud, clear, and it seems as though these creatures that have him surrounded heard the bigger voice as well.

Link comes back to the stone triangle and stands directly before the hole where he'd hastily pulled the sword. Shock strikes his face when he sees the sword still in his hand. He thinks about returning it, but it also feels... right? Like it was commissioned for him personally. Although that's silly. Why would a sword that feels just right for him be in the middle of the forest? Being protected by—

"Up here, child," the voice says again.

Link blinks and glances up. Squinting past the moonlight he searches in vain for any hint of an outline of a person. But all he sees is the large tree. He's about to continue his search for the stranger closer to ground level when the tree's odd bark on the trunk begins to move.

"Keep that sword relaxed. Only draw it when you intend to use it for evil." Link's eyes widen in equal parts fear and amazement. The tree is speaking to him as if its a normal thing for trees to do. But this old tree has no time for Link to process anything for it tells him, "The children of the forest mean you no harm, so you should respect my wishes to leave them be. They're just curious how a Hylian child found his way through the woods."

"Children of the forest?" Link turns back to find the forest children lingering near the protection of their shrubs and from behind trees. A quick peek upward shows that what he thought were birds a moment ago appears to be forest children with the ability to fly. The light is too low for him to tell, but it looks as if one is holding onto something that spins rapidly for it to levitate in the air.

The large tree makes a noise like it clears its throat. The rumble is deep enough that Link feels it in his bones.

"Young child, I am the Great Deku Tree, guardian of Korok Forest and overseer of the Lost Woods. You have traveled bravely through the woods and now you’ve sought out our refuge." Link holds his breath as the great tree speaks directly to him. The sword in his hand glows brightly now. But Link's eyes remain dutifully on the one known as the Great Deku Tree. "Tell me, young Hylian, how did you manage to find this place? What brings you all the way here?"

Link stammers as if that's an easy question to answer.

The great tree has incredible patience and a neutral expression as Link finds himself confused in how to explain himself. Link wants to tell him the truth, but it seems impossible to put it into words. The voice that guided him here has quieted down now, and if he were to make an attempt to call on it, would it answer? Link stares back at the forest children gathering closer to the triangle. If he answers wrong or if the great tree catches him in a lie, would they devour him for being dishonest? Or perhaps turn him into one of them?

Link's eyes widen in fear when he thinks of something about these creatures.

"The forest children"—he returns his eyes to the great tree—"what are they?"

"Do you mean to tell me they brought you here?" the Deku Tree ponders.

"N-no, I... they didn't. At least, I don't think they did." Link can't help but turn back again to see them still approaching the outer edges of the stone triangle. The ones closest to him stay just next to the edge and they thankfully don't dare step any closer. Link blinks at them and asks again, "What are they? Are they the adventurers who became lost in the woods?"

The great tree laughs light-heartedly at that. The forest children snicker and let off twinkling sounds as they toddle around the forest floor.

"Young boy, the forest children are the koroks. They live here under my protection. They harm none, but can be a little mischievous. However as long as I've been rooted here, they've taken no lives and lured no Hyruleans to the forest. Of that I'm most certain. They are and have always been koroks. Never a deceased traveler."

"So then, who called me here?" Link stares up at the tree as if he knows the answer, despite the tree asking Link that very question first.

"You tell me, child. What or who brought you here."

That counter question has Link reduced to nothing but a mere child. How is he to know considering it was a voice in his own head? With the sword in his hand, he stares down at it with a puzzled look. Turning his hand back and forth, he examines the blade's workmanship, as well as the elegantly crafted hilt and pommel, he wonders if perhaps the answer is one that doesn't belong to a person or even a creature.

"Was it... the sword?" Link mutters the question mostly to himself, but he doesn't realize how loud he speaks. When the great tree hums affirmatively, Link removes his gaze on the ominous glowing sword to return it to the great tree. "How can that be? Swords don't talk. It's just a weapon."

"That may be true to you, but this isn't an ordinary sword, young child." The Deku Tree's mouth moves in a way that indicates for Link to do something. When Link stands still, the tree tells him simply, "Sit."

Link nods his head shakily and answers as if a sergeant has commanded him, "Yes, sir."

When Link sits with his legs crossed on the stone triangle and holds the sword in his lap, the great tree titters at his formality.

"Sir? Young child, I am not above you in any ranking. I may be above you in a physical sense,"—the Deku Tree makes a facial gesture as if he has to stare further down now that Link sits on the ground—"but in truth, we are all the same in the end. We have as much in common with each other as all the races have amongst themselves. We have our differences, of course, but we all breathe the same air. Live on the same land. Sleep under the same stars. And in the end, this place is our home. Call me Deku Tree. I am no sir to you."

Link nods a little firmer and more confident after hearing that. For once, even though he's speaking to a literal tree right now, it's nice to know that he can be seen as an equal instead of a lesser.

The great tree makes another rumbling sound before asking, "Now tell me, young one, before we speak further, what might your fellow Hylians refer to you as? I grow tired of calling you child and boy, so a name will suffice."

"Link," he answers loud enough for the tree to hear. "My name is Link."

"A most interesting name. It's almost as if I've heard of such a name before. One that holds weight in Hyrule's great history." The Deku Tree pauses for a moment, and looks as though he peers beyond Link. "Children, please use caution while coming near. The sword is out of the pedestal. Respect the new bearer of the sword while he's within our presence."

Peering past his shoulder, Link watches as the koroks creep closer. Some have their little stumpy arms touching the edge of the triangle to lean in for a better view. A few braver ones accept a personal challenge to see how close they can get. One stands directly on the pedestal and makes its way over to Link. Though it doesn't reach out to touch him, it does sway its body back and forth with an intrigued expression on its leafy-face. The more Link stares at them, the more he finds himself not as wary as he had been before knowing what they were.

"They will not harm you, Link," the Deku Tree says again, drawing Link’s attention back to the tree, "but do beware that if you hurt them, you will have made an enemy of the forest, as well as with myself. So stay cautious while you have that sword drawn."

"I promise," Link answers back with a dutiful nod. But when his eyes land back on the sword in his lap, his tone shifts. He can't explain it, but there's something about the sword that bothers him. The Deku Tree stated that it isn't an average sword. Of course, Link hasn't encountered many swords that have been lost for years and lacks any rust and wear while it's been sitting in a forest. Ignoring the korok that stands as close to his side as it can without touching him, Link asks the great tree, "So the sword, did it really call for me?"

"Perhaps it has, and perhaps it hasn't. Did it say for you to take it?"

"Well, no, sir— ah. No." Link hangs his head at this realization. The voice never stated exactly what it wanted from him. It could have been a flower or a telepathic lizard for all he knows. Shame leaks into Link's voice as he explains, "I heard a voice. It kept coming to me in my head tonight. I tried to find it, and I believe it led me here. But it never said that I should have taken this sword." Link holds the sword with both hands for the Deku Tree to look at. Holding his hands up, he makes it appear as an offering to return it. "I acted out of hast, Deku Tree. I shouldn't have taken it in the first place. I was scared and I didn't bring a weapon for protection, so, here. I don't deserve it."

One of the koroks nearby lets out a tiny gasp. Another one speaks in a strange language farther away, and another chimes in with the same language. Small murmurings distract Link as they all speak at once. He can't understand what any of them say and there's so many of them. And even though it seems that dozens of conversations are happening all at once, none of their voices seem familiar. It at least confirms that none of the ones here were responsible for luring him all the way out here.

"Enough, children," the Deku Tree bellows. He rumbles again and returns to a more reposeful tone. "Link, lower your arms. That sword is yours. If it didn't want you, it wouldn't have budged. It accepted you as its wielder. You are to be its champion. The sword chose you, and there isn't anything you can do to change that." The Deku Tree bristles his many branches and says solemnly, "The sword is done seeking you out, so now you have to train to hear its wishes. It may take you years to hear its voice again. When the time comes, it will let you know."

Link rests the sword on the ground in front of him, still not convinced he’s deserving of such a weapon. Placing it carefully onto the stone surface, he looks at how it glows blue in the night. Familiarity shouldn't be overcoming him as he stares at the sword, but its there nonetheless. He isn't certain, but it feels as though he's seen something like this before. Perhaps in a dream or a memory he doesn't quite remember.

Nevertheless, Link schools his expression back to something closer to neutral. Ever since he’s shown his abilities in swinging a sword as a younger child, he’s strived to find that joy he felt when he had impressed his father. It’s been so long since he’s felt that sense of pride in himself because the burden of being a near prodigy with a sword has become nothing more than an inner struggle with himself. Every day he tries to do better, and now, as he sits in this secluded forest with whimsical creatures and a talking tree, he reflects on how he’s fallen from grace these past few weeks.

The sword’s blade catches his reflection and Link stares at the tired emptiness behind his eyes. Blinking slowly at himself through the sword’s reflective blade, Link sighs and has nothing more to say. The sword has called for him and now that its in his possession, it has no further instructions. He doesn’t understand why, but he yearns for that tinny voice to speak again. Its odd to think he could miss something that only just started, and yet he finds himself sitting on the ground in silence, waiting for another sign.

“I am sorry, Link,” the Deku Tree says somberly. Link tears his eyes away from the sword to stare up at the great tree, who looks down on him with an expression of sorrow. “This burden is a heavy one, and you are a mere child. But the sword has chosen its master and now the next step will be set into motion.”

“What step is that? What does it want from me?” Link grabs the sword again and holds it in both hands with one supporting the blade and the other gripping the hilt. He raises the hilt side slightly higher to resume gazing at the fine work of such a beautiful weapon.

“It is an omen for the near future, I’m afraid.” While the Deku Tree speaks like an old and wise master, Link tries to listen as best he can. But with the koroks inching ever closer toward him, they pose as little distractions as they toddle about. “The world as we know it will be plunged in a great darkness the likes of which no one is prepared for. Once the sword is pulled from its pedestal, the darkness will come soon after. It’s unclear in the prophecy when that time will come, but you must ready yourself for a fight like no other.”

Link keeps his eyes on the ground. He doesn’t glance at the sword in his hands. He doesn’t peek at the curious little koroks that scoot near him, nor does he pay the ones poking him with their stumpy arms any mind. Link finally shuts the world out and closes his eyes to ponder what the great tree told him.

A darkness is coming and he fears he knows what that darkness is. The reason Link is even enlisted in the military to begin with isn’t just because his father wants him to follow in his footsteps. No, the king of Hyrule has spoken of his wariness of an insurgence. The king doesn’t speak openly about what he knows, but his fear has him taking action before the inevitable happens. Link recalls hearing rumors that the king’s daughter has training of her own in order to awaken some sort of ancient power she possesses. Everyone is preparing for something big and dangerous, and now Link is thrust into the middle of it all.

“Link, have you heard of the legendary sword before? Are you aware of its past?”

Link opens his eyes, but doesn’t look up to answer the Deku Tree. He nods with a lull to his head as he stares in awe of the sword. He’s heard the legendary stories and knows the tales, but he’s always been told that they’re just that: stories. As he’s grown older and nearing his teenage years, he’s been told by older boys and adults that it’s time to grow up and stop believing in silly legends. He’s dreamt of being heroic and winning respect by everyone around him the way most children do, and a small part of him always wished this story secretly wound up being true. With his hand wrapped tightly around the sword’s blue and green hilt, he watches how his fingers curl around it. It’s real and it has chosen him to be the next successor.

His thoughts are put aside on that matter when the Deku Tree’s deep voice interrupts.

“You have a responsibility now that you are in possession of the sword that seals the darkness. I implore you to keep in mind, Link, that with such a gift comes a great sacrifice. Your child-like innocence can no longer exist while you have that sword.” The Deku Tree hums to gather his thoughts carefully. While he thinks for a moment, Link forces his eyes to stare up at him one last time. Still sitting on the hard ground, he waits patiently like an obedient little soldier. “Many will depend on you from this day forth until you can no longer hold that sword in your hands. I hope that one day you can find it in your heart to forgive the sword for choosing you.”

Confliction goes to war with itself in Link's head. He struggles with wondering if he should accept this sword and its baggage, or if he should pinch and slap himself until he finally wakes up. He's spent only a handful of weeks training with professionals like his father, but is this really something he's capable of handling? What would happen when Link leaves this forest with the sword in hand? How would everyone treat him if this truly is the legendary sword? A twinge in his chest causes him to jump when he considers the thought that he'd have this great responsibility to take over only for Dad to repossess the sword from his care. Claiming he is far from ready to wield something as magnificent as the sword of evil’s bane.

Link puffs out his chest with a long and weary sigh. At the end of the day, he is still a child. He won't be thirteen for a few more months at best, and he's sure that some of the other soldiers and cadets will start pestering him over why he was chosen to begin with. Link casts doleful eyes at the blade again and the glow of the sword is bright enough to illuminate his reflection. He catches sight of his expression and another feeling entirely forces its way to push the doubt aside.

He shouldn't quit on himself so soon. He knows he's young for the task at hand, and there are bound to be other people who believe they're far more accomplished than him. But if the sword would have had anyone else it thought could handle the challenge, why did it settle for him and not someone else? Link's hand on the hilt tightens with a determined grip when he considers the fact that the sword budged for him. Who's to say how many others have made the attempt of pulling it from the stone only for it to maintain its hold?

With another sigh to expel the lingering bits of self-doubt and uncertainties, Link pushes himself up to his feet. He makes sure to rest his sword arm so that he doesn't accidentally swipe a korok that stands a little too close for comfort. The Deku Tree had been right about them being curious little creatures because more surround him on the stone pedestal now. They crowd around one another to get their own chance to gawk at him. But Link pays them no mind at all. His attention is completely angled up toward the great tree.

"Great Deku Tree, I will do my best to bring honor to this sword. I will do what I must to protect everyone from the threat you speak of." Link holds the hilt with both hands and places the sword’s glowing blade in front of him. He refrains from balancing the tip of the blade on the ground to prevent wearing it down and causing unnecessary damage. With his chin held high and a voice strong enough to seem authoritative, Link finishes with, "I promise to do my best."

The great tree hums, amused at Link's tenacity. "Many heroes from Hyrule's past have handled a sword such as this one. Many have been triumphant, while others have failed in some way. Link, do keep your head on your shoulders. Remain diligent and understand that with failure comes knowledge to try again."

Link bends at the waist to bow at the great tree. When he rights himself, he calls up loud enough for the Deku Tree to hear him, "I will make sure I'm ready when the time comes. I will do what I must to protect our land." His head falls down as he stares at the sword for the umpteenth time. Its weight is perfect in his hands, and yet, its still a surreal moment to think that its chosen him for this daring mission. A mission he hasn't a clue what to expect. He surprises himself by stating, "I promise to make the sword proud of me. I will train hard until I become a worthy swordsman."

"Do not lose yourself to the sword," the Deku Tree says low with a rumble. If Link focuses hard enough, he swears he can feel the earth beneath him shiver under the Deku Tree's words. "This is a great burden for someone so young. While you hone your skills, do not let it become your identity. Now please, do take care while leaving the forest and returning to your people." Link nods at that and makes to step away, but pauses when the Deku Tree adds lastly, "And remember, only swing that sword when it is needed. Only fools swing when they're afraid of shadows."

With a firm nod, Link takes it as a dismissal to spin around on his heels. With the sword close to his side now, he begins his walk back up the stone pathway to return to the hollowed tree up the incline. He isn't sure what the great tree had meant earlier when he said to find it in his heart to forgive the sword, but it's bound to be a burden he's willing to bear. If it means he has to bear a sword that's seen several heroes in its past who have done far greater things than he can imagine, then perhaps it's his turn now to prove his own worth. Link doesn't want to be known only as an extraordinary boy with an apt skill for fighting and a fiery desire to train. He wants to make a name for himself like the heroes of old have all once done.

Link gets as far as the top of the incline until he reaches the edge of the hollowed tree before he stops. So many thoughts run rampant through his head that pull him in several directions. Some thoughts tell him this is his destiny and its inevitable to change his fate. And other thoughts arise that all of this is a mistake and he shouldn't let a talking tree tell him what to do. But knowing that the king of Hyrule worries about a threat that looms near, perhaps it is wise in a sense to believe the Deku Tree—no matter how bizarre it may appear to anyone else.

The second Link makes it halfway through the hollowed tree, he turns back to see the parade of koroks following after him. They stand there with seemingly vacant expressions as they watch him draw closer to the beginnings of the Lost Woods. Already the blue fog from earlier starts to flow toward him and obscure their tiny frames. With his free hand, he waves a farewell to the creatures. A few of them wave back and others let their giggles twinkle and dance around his ears.

He's about to finally turn his back to them and make his way through the woods when a little korok comes waddling up to him. It crosses through the bridge and walks past him. Link watches as it shuffles through sparse fallen leaves that blanket the ground. When it comes to the other end of the hollowed tree, it stops and turns back, almost as if it waits for him.

A cursory glance back at the group of them that sit on the Korok Forest side of the tunnel continue waving their hands goodbye at him. And looking up at the lonesome one that crossed the tunnel, Link is relieved to see it standing around and waving its hand toward itself; beckoning him to follow. At least now he won’t be completely alone as he makes his way back to the entrance.

When he takes one step, the korok begins to walk. Once he comes to the korok's side, they walk in tandem together. The korok hums a jolly tune as it makes brief pauses in their journey to raise a stumpy arm in the air. Link thinks to raise his own hand—believing the creature is judging where the wind blows to guide them. Link can't detect any movement in the air at all. The fog is too thick to tell and the floating specks in the fog seem to move haphazardly in any direction they please.

But rather than claim defeat already, the korok lowers its arm and points in a seemingly random direction. "That way!" it exclaims before taking the lead once again. As Link follows after, he wonders if it would have been a wise choice to have picked up the torch he left in Korok Forest. He could have dug around until he found some striking stones to light it. It would have saved him the trouble of needing to rely on the korok that leads him. Although he doesn't doubt the korok's abilities, he doesn't want it to be taken far away from its homeland.

They take a few turns left and spin back to make a hasty right when the swarming waves of fog rush toward them when they see its approach. Standing near one of the torch lanterns from earlier, the korok startles at the voices of men hanging around what appears to be the outer edges of the Lost Woods. Link is grateful that some people seem to care that he's still missing, but he can't help but take notice of how the korok shakes with fear at the sound of the men calling out for him.

"Danger," the korok whispers. It covers its eyes pitifully with both of its hands and weeps quietly. "Deku Tree will protect us. Those monsters will get lost in the fog."

"Those aren't monsters..." Link comments. He kneels down and makes sure to keep the sword's blade pointed away from the korok. He wants to reach a hand out to pat it reassuringly on its back, but with his hand hovering above the korok, he’s suddenly unsure if he's allowed to touch it. Rather than take the risk of touching the frightened thing, he lets his hand fall back down to his side instead. "It's okay. They're Hylians, like me. They must be looking for me."

The korok sniffles meagerly before mumbling, "They're monsters. Adults are scary. They try to find the sword and get lost. And they become angry when they're lost. I don't like it when they're angry."

"I'll make sure they don't come any further," Link says in a comforting tone. He rises again and holds the sword firmly in his hand. Looking down at the korok, who appears to wipe tears from its eyes, Link lets out a long sigh before a yawn can take over. It's hard to tell from the fog, but he's sure the sun will be up within a few hours. He bites his lip to fight against a sudden yawn and once the urge passes, he bends at the waist to speak quietly to the little korok. "Thank you for helping me. I'll take the adults away from the woods. That way they don't get lost, okay? You can head back. I’ll be fine."

"Okay... Thank you, Mr. Hero," the korok says with a whimper in its voice. It sniffles again and makes a mad dash back the way they had come. It disappears into the fog without so much as another word.

Link tries to not let his mind linger on the Mr. Hero nickname the korok bestowed upon him. He isn’t a hero by any means. He’s just another Hylian boy enlisted in the military. A boy with a sword he found by listening to its voice from within the Lost Woods.

Keeping his sword arm relaxed and by his side, Link follows the opposite direction the fire lanterns’ embers blow. He doesn’t need to squint through the blue fog to spy the other lantern that had led him to the twin lanterns from before. So long as he stays close on the invisible path, he will emerge from the woods alive and well. And most likely scolded by his father all the way from the Hebra mountains and down toward the Necluda Sea. He knows he’ll be in for an earful upon his return regardless if he possesses a legendary sword or not.

Link pauses before he walks along the path toward the first fire lantern at the entrance. Silhouettes stand on the outer side of the shadow of the archway. None of the men still searching for him have dared to set foot into the woods. Perhaps that’s a good thing, Link thinks to himself. That way no one will wind up lost trying to locate him. And now the korok that ran out of fear of angry men doesn’t have to worry about another lost soul in the woods.

Remembering to keep good posture, Link walks with an air of confidence in his step back toward the entrance of the woods. He hears the men gasp and watches how they take cautious steps backward at his approach; unable to tell upon first glance who draws near from the fog. As the fog lifts, a familiar face stands closest to the stone archway with a lit torch held skyward and a hand gripping the hilt of a sheathed sword.

Link fights the urge to open his mouth and exclaim that he’s alright when he recognizes his father’s visage. Instead, he stops halfway through the threshold of the archway and waits for the likely demands of his whereabouts and why he ran off in the dead of night. With the legendary sword in his hand, Link notices the lack of its glow from when he stood in the heart of the Korok Forest. It does not glow while in the presence of his father and the two other commanders who stand by his side. Though the fog has thinned where Link stands at the edge of the Lost Woods, it doesn’t pass over his mind that the air around them has gone terribly still.

One of the commanders barks for Link to explain himself, demanding him to apologize and how he’ll regret causing trouble these past nights. Going into babbling detail of the unrest he’s caused among the commanders and other soldiers back at the camp. The other commander yells similarly and both of their heated words meld together into a cacophony of noise.

“Enough!” his father orders, louder once the two commanders do nothing but fret and pester over needing answers for Link’s sudden disobedience. Link watches his father survey the area behind Link in search of any foul play. When he finds none, his hand falls from the hilt of the sword he’s left in its scabbard. His eyes land on the curious sword in Link’s grip, and so his father brings a hand up and curls a finger toward himself—warily superstitious of the Lost Woods. His voice is low and calm when he has a simple command for Link: “Come here.”

Link’s skin grows tight like a vise around his body when he wishes he hadn’t caused so much trouble. If he could have been able to sneak back into the barrack and back into bed, he would have told his father about the sword the following morning. But perhaps even if that were to happen, he’d still wind up scolded and punished for leaving the camp grounds again . With a heavy heart, Link bows his head and finally crosses through the safety of the archway to stand on the outer edge of the woods.

The light from the torch welcomes him with warmth, but the cold lack of trust between him and the three commanders before him has Link fighting against a shiver.

“Leave us,” he hears his father say. Link’s foot hesitates to lift to march back alone, but he stops his muscles from moving. Glancing up, Link watches the other two commanders give affirmative nods before spinning on their heels and stomping their way back to the camp.

As their marching grows quiet with every step they make, Link feels a slight wash of relief that he’s alone with his father. The tension in his body resolves only a small bit because he knows he’s still not dismissed.

Link’s head falls back down to avoid eye contact. He watches the shadow of his father’s arm raise up and his fingers curl toward himself. He gives another simple command: “Show me, then. What have you got there?”

Gulping down a set of nerves he wishes to dispel from his very being, Link lifts the legendary sword with both hands. His left hand holds the hilt with his fingers wrapped protectively over it while his right hand supports the magnificent reflective blade. When he lifts his chin high enough to stare just below his father’s eyes, he’s surprised that the expression that stares back at him is almost calm in the moonlight. It isn’t hard and heavy, or full of sourness the way Link expects it to be.

Large hands come up to try and take hold of the sword for a closer inspection, but Link is quick to take a step back. Using his body as a shield between his father and the sword, he watches for his father’s reaction to see what he’ll do. When neither of them move and his father’s eyes bulge at his sudden defensiveness over the weapon, Link lets out a small sigh.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t touch it.” Link, assured that his father won’t move to snatch the sword out of his grasp, stands a little straighter and repositions himself until he holds the sword out for both of them to look at it. “It’s mine now. I found it and it belongs to me.” Blue eyes steal a glance at the sword—mesmerized how the moon’s light dances along the perfect blade to illuminate the darkness. “It seems crazy, but it called for me. The Deku Tree— Ah, I was told it wants me.”

“Link, look at me,” Father requests. It isn’t the type of order that belongs to a commander. As Link tears his eyes away from the blade’s reflective surface to look up at his dad, he doesn’t stifle the little gasp when a hand draws up to rest on his shoulder. His heart beats wildly in his chest; unsure if he’s in trouble or if something else entirely will happen to him. Before his racing mind can make heads or tails of anything, his father says, “We’ll speak of this first thing tomorrow. If this turns out to truly be the sword of legend judging by its appearance and where you must have retrieved it, then the king must know at once.”

“What must he know?” Link asks.

Father steps aside and uses the hand still on Link’s shoulder to push him forward to begin the short walk back to the training camp. Walking side by side, Link relaxes his arms and holds the sword in his left hand to avoid smacking it against his father who walks on his right side.

“Like I said, we’ll discuss this all in the morning. Especially that Deku Tree comment, whatever that means.” Link can’t help the feeling of intense eyes staring down on him, however. Even though his dad’s words are calm, the sense that something else is coming isn’t lost on him. The quietude of the walk as they round the corner to return to the dirt path leading down the hill is broken when his father speaks again, “When we return to the barracks, sleep well. To keep things fair, you’ll receive a light punishment for wandering off after curfew, and then we shall discuss this business with that sword of yours. I’m too tired to deal with any of this now.”

With his head bowed, Link accepts that fate. It’s only fair, all things considered. So long as he’s allowed to keep the sword, maybe then whatever punishment awaits him will turn out to be worth it. Although his head is down, his eyes don’t glower and he doesn’t grit his teeth in annoyance. It’s difficult for him to put into words, but finally holding the thing that’s been calling out to him for so long feels as though he’s one step closer to feeling complete. It’s impossible to comprehend that out of however many people have tried to claim the sword that seals the darkness for themselves, it chose him in the end. Only him.

It doesn’t take long for them to return to the soldier barracks after their brisk walk in silence. The two guards stand like reverent statues at the sight of Link’s commander father as he accompanies him to the door of his barrack. It isn’t proper for Link to take a weapon into the barrack, but with his father’s permission, he’s been granted this one small case of allowance. If it comes down to it, Link will take to sleeping with the sword still in his tight grasp. He doesn’t want anyone to come near him and this respectful gift that’s been bestowed upon him. He’ll protect it until he can’t hold onto it anymore.

“Link.” His father stands an arm’s length away, but he speaks solemnly to avoid drawing attention to the sleeping soldiers within the barrack. When Link looks over at him, his father’s slight smile is apparent. “After the reveille, meet me at the swordsmith hut. Your punishment will be to sharpen the blade. Understood?”

“But no one has trained me on that yet…”

“Then maybe it’s time you learned how to take care of a weapon instead of just brandishing one.” Though his words seem dismissive, the smile on his face remains. Link shares a similar grin back and bows at the dismissal.

The excitement for what’s to come gets the better of Link because he forgets his humility and says as he departs, “I’ll do my best to make you proud.”

Link pushes the barrack door open and steps carefully inside. Before he shuts the door behind to plunge himself into darkness, the final words he hears from his father are, “You already have.”