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Deep breath in…
Deep breath out.
His feathered frame rose and fell with even breaths as anticipation filled the air, building like pressure in a sealed pot.
He didn’t dare move a muscle, for fear of thinking too hard about how his wings ache, how his bow felt heavy on his back. Laser-like focus sharpened every keen sense of his, alerting him of the frigid wind that coursed through his flight feathers, the details of the snowflakes that silently glided through the air, and tangy scent of the bomb arrows tucked into his quiver.
Jump.
Twirl.
Twist.
Shoot.
Land.
Putting it in layman’s terms made it seem simple, like the play of a fledgling.
However, there was no denying the challenge in it, the risk and daringness of it all.
Smiling a bit to himself, his muscles relaxed, then tensed. Resting into the mindset of success, he leaned into the white-hot center of his focus.
The air around him froze, the snowflakes hovering in the same spot, the wind having come to a dead stop. A blanket of silence draped itself over him.
The world inhaled, and held its breath, waiting.
It was a good thing Revali thrived on challenge.
The wind suddenly picked up, swirling around him with a newfound gusto. Chaotic, it whipped around in every direction but the center, where the young rito stood, still as a statue.
He pushed off.
Jumping high enough for his talons to leave the ground, he left behind a sphere of disturbed snow on the frozen ground where he had stood a moment ago.
The familiar, exhilarating sense of weightlessness overtook him once more as he spun like a fish in water, beak pointed towards the sky.
He wobbled a bit, but trial and error had taught him well.
Throwing his weight towards the right, he remained in the eye of the small whirlwind, and he ascended higher than he had ever reached before.
Pushing the joyous accomplishment bells that rang in the back of his mind to the side for a moment, he twisted so that he was now free-falling on his stomach, heading towards the flight range at a speed that would have alarmed any less-experienced rito.
Snatching his bow from his back and knocking three arrows with practiced ease, he pulled the string back, and waited. 1…2…3–
The arrows whistled through the air, each one soaring directly into the very center of the bullseye of three individual targets.
Landing on the icy ground at the bottom of the flight range, he quickly created another whirlwind, launching himself back towards the sky.
Shooting back up, he returned his bow to his back, and with a gust of air that propelled him into a graceful flip, landed with an unmatched ease and grace on the ground.
It was a full 30 seconds of gathering himself before his breathing had returned to its normal pace again, and his mind had come down from the thrill, to realize what he had just achieved.
“…I have done it.”
Incredulously staring down at his wings, he gave a breathy laugh that crystallized in front of him.
“I…I have done it…!”
Satisfaction swelled in his chest until he felt as if he’d burst of pride. Considering he was in the presence of only himself (therefore not having to apologize for a momentary loss of dignity), he allowed a rare moment of celebration, in which he let out a jubilant, almost-childlike laugh of genuine joy to spill, throwing his head back and grinning at the radiant azure sky above him.
Years of trying and failing, training until his wings felt like they were about to fall off and he couldn’t stand the sight of another wooden target. Years of performing the same shots over and over, until finally the arrows slowly but consistently began to make their way to the exact center of the target, centimeter by grueling centimeter. All of the work, blood, sweat, even a few tears, had brought him to this point, and he couldn’t possibly be prouder of himself.
“At long last…”
As he reached for his bow to assure that the vigor of the flight had not damaged it, he became aware of the missing presence of something.
Looking down, he acutely noticed a familiar dash of ocean blue was not tied around his neck.
Red-rimmed eyes keenly swept his surroundings for it, but upon looking, saw it wasn’t in immediate sight.
Disappointment momentarily squashed his pride for a moment at the thought of losing that particular article of clothing.
While he wasn’t one to attach himself to things, he had actually grown to like the handmade accessory. It marked his uniqueness, setting him apart from the others as a Champion of Hyrule.
Taking a few steps, his talons gripped the rock beneath him as he leaned far over the edge of the steep drop, peering down with no evident fear of the drop. Spotting a sliver of blue lying on the rock, he disappeared over the edge without another thought, and reached the bottom with ease.
To his dismay, a strip of the well-made fabric had snagged on a rock, a long piece along the seam, and was just a few threads away from tearing off entirely. Sighing, he gently picked it up and reluctantly ripped the last couple of threads, separating the scarf into two pieces. No point in leaving it hanging there, he reasoned as he tucked the straggly piece into a concealed pouch.
The scarf he tied securely back into his neck, jauntily setting the knot to the side. Ribbons of ice encircled the ground around him as he swiftly returned to the warmly-lit, one roomed house near the top of the range.
Settling cross-legged next to the fire in the center of the room, he placed his bow beside him, and removed the scrap of fabric from the pocket, twisting it in his feathers as he studied it’s make in the firelight.
The wind must have been strong, for he did not even recall feeling the scarf fly off his neck.
He smiled once more to himself, staring proudly at the piece of sky blue in his wing.
His jade irises then slid down to his bow, gazing at his weapon. The air was tense with thoughts unspoken, the crackling of the fire registering as an after-thought.
Then, almost unthinkingly, he took the scrap and nimbly tied it around the upper limb, in similar fashion to his own scarf.
Revali considered his Great Eagle Bow an extension of himself. It fit perfectly in his wing, and the colors even matched his own navy-hued plumage.
It was only fitting for it to have its own small decoration of the same color, he mused.
Releasing a sigh he didn’t know he was holding, he let his mind wander back to how exactly he had executed his aerial feat. Now that he had a quiet moment to analyze himself, he marveled at the way the wind had carried him so that he could see the peaks of the Hebra mountains through the clear, crisp air.
It must have been quite a gale to take—
Gale.
That’s it!
Revali’s beak parted a bit at the realization. The final piece in the puzzle of his accomplishment clicked into place.
Revali’s gale.
It was perfect.
It rolled off the tongue with the right amount of ease, it was musical sounding, and it accurately described his newly mastered accomplishment.
The name met every requirement that he had wanted, and so it was decided, resolve filling his mind.
”Perhaps…”
He murmured quietly, the words flying away in the wind as soon as they left his beak and carrying them up and out of the secluded room. His smirk turned serious and wistful.
Taking his bow firmly in each wing, he gazed into the popping embers, watching the orange flames dance and flicker with satisfying crackles.
“Perhaps it will be enough.”