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The heavy beat of a gallop could be heard along the shores of lake Siela. It trampled the soft grass, still wet from the rain, leaving a trail of hoof prints in its wake. A man, a boy, really, on a horse, racing around the corner, vanishing into a mountain path.
Link heard the soil change underneath his horses hooves. The clip of the hooves on rocky path echoed against the walls. A frog leapt away as they rushed past. water trickled down the mountainwalls, dissapearing into innocent puddles at their bases. A group of birds took flight as they grew near. Link followed their flight path and watched them disappear over the jutted Pillars of Levia.
Life seemed to flourish here between the mountains. The farther into the bottleneck of the path you got, the more energy could be felt in the air. Here there were no reminders of the destruction, the land unmarred. Here you found only life’s tenacity to always persevere.
Link felt his heart ease more and more the closer he got to Kakariko. Leaving his worries behind bit by bit past every corner they rounded, cutting them loose and leaving them to fill every cavern in the walls that fancied itself a critters resting place. He imagined the walls of the narrow passage closing up behind him, separating him from the dangers that lurked in every corner of Hyrule’s wild. The soft melody of wooden chimes, carried to his ear by the wind, which he let engulf him like a cloak of safety. His heartbeat slowed, his breathing evened out.
His horse, feeling its rider relax in his saddle, slowed down from a heavy gallop into an easy canter. As they passed underneath the first gate of the village, it fell into a leisurely trot.
Link’s eyes fell on old Nanna, who, as always, sat dutifully at her spot in the shade of her oak tree. She greeted him with a warm smile and a wave, which he returned in kind. His horse, who had spotted the basket of swift carrots beside her stool, whinnied loudly. A greeting of its own.
Link got off his horse and led it towards Nanna. He made a small bow for her and reached for his satchel, pulling out that day's treasure. A Summerwing butterfly, trapped in a jar. He’d captured it near lake Intenoch, along with some fireproof lizards he intended to make into elixirs.
Nanna took the jar from his hands, twisting it around in her own and admiring the butterfly from every direction. “It’s beautiful. Thank you, Link.” Her voice came out crackly and weak, but the appreciation was audible. Gently, she placed the jar down beside her stool. Then she spoke to his horse: "And you, horsey, are you happy to see me?" she asked, her voice crackling like dry leaves.
It whinnied softly, nudging its snout into Nanna’s outstretched hand. She laughed and pet it’s face.
Link let the reigns go, and his horse wandered lazily towards the stable. Once there, it looked at Nanna in anticipation. It knew Kakariko’s path well, knew it came with the sweet swift carrots that belonged to the lady that took care of it here.
Nanna slapped her knee and laughed. “Look at him, what a glutton!”
She moved to get up from her stool, croaking and creaking but managing eventually. Link had long since learned not to offer help. She had chastised him the first few times he tried. “Movement keeps these bones young.” she’d chided. He knew better than to argue. Nanna had been here long before him, and would be here long after.
He remembered their first meeting well. He’d made her acquaintance in the same spot he would always meet her. Near the entrance of the village, near its stables. She had been grumpy and in pain. Having made a wrong step on the fields and left toiling with a foot injury that rendered her nearly immobile. Recognizing his Sheikah Slate, She’d pointed him in Lady Impa’s direction. He’d thanked her graciously and made his way to Lady Impa’s hall at once.
Later that day, he’d made sure to bring Nanna a hearty meal. She accepted the meal graciously and invited him to share. They ate together, sat near the campfire, its warm glow illuminating both their faces. His intention had been to help her heal her foot. The hearty radish with which the meal was made was known for it’s healing capabilities. Though Nanna had seemed to appreciate his cooking more than the recipe’s healing properties. She’d loudly complimented him on his cooking skills and had introduced him as ‘the village’s new cook’ to every passerby.
From then on, she was his first stop in the village. She was hard to miss, but Link appreciated her kindness greatly. She’d offered to take care of his horse every time he came by, and it had become their ritual of sorts. He started bringing her small finds from across the land. Herbs, flowers, insects. Just bits and pieces Link thought she would appreciate, and she always did.
She’d toss his horse a swift carrot every time they came. Sneakily at first, behind Link's back. But eventually she started doing it out in the open. His horse had grown to associate her with the delicious carrots, Link had grown to associate her with warm welcome’s and mutual respect. Both of them had grown to love the old lady.
She bent down, old bones creaking with every move, and grabbed a carrot from the basket. Slapping away Link’s hand when he moved to grab it for her. Then, she started in his horse's direction.
Over her shoulder, she asked: “You sleeping at the Inn tonight?”
He’d known the question would come. Always did, always the same answer.
He shrugged, guiltily. Avoiding her eye.
“Tsk!” She let out, “You stubborn boy. Young men like you need their rest.”
She waved him away, wanting to be left alone to care for his horse in peace. He bowed again and walked in the direction of the town’s center.
Link knew she wasn’t really mad. She just didn’t understand him. He was unexplainable to her, as he was to everyone he met. This young boy, stumbling into their village occasionally to do nothing but go through the motions of living.
The villagers knew who he was, of his plight, of his failure. But they did not understand him, and how could they? He was thrust into a world he had forgotten and that had forgotten him, too. Knowing nothing besides his name and his apparent quest to save the land and his princess. A wordless boy, unable to make a sound.
He continued farther into the village, crossing the bridge above the fields and walking down the path that led to the town's center. Lady Impa’s hall sat high above the other houses, nestled in front of Lantern lake’s waterfalls, a palace in its own right. Albeit a tiny palace, nothing compared to the swath of gray of Hyrule castle that he saw looming over Hyrule field during his travels. That sight made him nervous, set him on edge. Knowing his journey would eventually lead him there, to face off against some unseen evil.
This area though? This area was beautiful to him, peaceful. The only spot he’d found where he could be at ease. The sun hung just above the mountains surrounding the village, reflecting off the waterfalls behind Lady Impa’s house in a golden glint. It wouldn’t be long before night fell, but even then this safe haven would protect him. Sheltered between the Pillars of Levia, protected by the Sheikahs nature to seclude themselves and the landscape that made it possible. No monster could find him here. A soft wind struck up, waving between leaves of the mighty oaks, and making the wooden chimes dance.
When he’d woken up up from his slumber, he’d known nothing at all. Unsure where to go, what to do. The land completely unknown to him. He’d heard that voice, Zelda’s voice, and it had led him on this path of unimaginable sorrow.
A land in ruin, a hundred years since a horrific calamity that changed the landscape forever.
When he’d found the king who’d eventually point him to Kakariko, he discovered that his own voice left much, everything, to be desired. He found himself unable to speak, all the right words in his head but incapable of forming them or even making a sound. It left his mind racing, with so many questions to ask and no way to ask them.
He found his way to Lady Impa. The road was perilous, full of monsters in every cave, valley and lake. He’d fought his way through, got into the habit of the fight. It came to him naturally.
When he first arrived at the safe haven that was Kakariko, Impa told him of his untimely demise and it’s consequences. He’d felt awful, ashamed. His road here was dangerous but manageable, but what dangers would find him in the rest of the land? He was responsible for its rescue, for the defeat of the monster that had plagued it for a hundred years. The doubt had set into his bones, leaving him cold and shivering in the dark nights that followed. How would he step into his role as hero? Did he even deserve it after his failure? Even if he didn’t, he’d have to find a way. There were no other options left.
He was still so unsure of his place in the world. His determination and duty to protect apparent in everything but his mind. His hands held the weapons with grace. Swords, bows, spears and halberds. It all came to him like second nature. He never missed his mark. Never lost a fight. It was as if when the adrenaline kicked in, he transformed into the hero from before. He was fearless, careless even. Ready to jump into action, protect anyone and everything. Fighting past his capabilities, but never stopping until he won the battle.
But when the adrenaline left his body, his heart sank to his stomach. He remembered that even the hero from before failed eventually. His body ached, his mind bled. Every night he stood eye to eye with his defeat from a century ago. Zelda’s pleas to be saved, heard from atop the ruined temple of time. They rang through his dreams at night. The vision of the blood moon branded into the back of his mind. He feared the monsters around every corner, the unseen depths of every lake. He steered clear of large open areas, finding a way to stick to the shadows everywhere he went. The idea of vulnerability terrorized him.
He’d crossed Blatchery plain only once. Barely aware of its meaning, the scar it left upon the land. At the sight of the hundreds of dead guardians, he froze. Startling his horse into a rear, he’d nearly fallen. The moment passed quickly, and he spurred his horse on so fast that he’d felt the need to apologize to it by means of Endura carrot later.
But he could not forget that paralyzing fear, that all encompassing feeling of hopelessness that his own memory had given him. It was only one moment of faltering, but it was crystal clear. His body remembered. Not only did it remember his training as a knight, as a hero. It also remembered his fall, his death. Because that is what had happened, he’d died.
The idea of it seemed preposterous, but that was what Lady Impa had said, and that is what he’d felt in that field. Surrounded by corpses of his last battle, the only one he didn't win.
Kakariko was a safe haven, where he could leave the dangers of the land behind for the night. Somewhere the nightmares could still reach him, but where they simply felt less real. Like they were covered by a layer of cotton. The colors less vivid, shapes less recognizable. The sounds of screaming, as harrowing as always, but accompanied by the melody of wind chimes that swayed around his body while he slept. He needed that. Every so often, he had to allow himself a moment of peace.
He hated himself for it, but that evening, like many others, he’d felt his body running on it’s last reserves.
And so here he was. Walking past the waterfalls of Lantern Lake, basking in the sounds of the water thundering down the mountains. The birds chirping cheerily. The soft chatter of Dorian’s children, who played by the lake.
He gave Lady Impa’s guards a solemn nod, which they returned. Dorian and Cado stood watch as always. Impenetrable statues of Sheikah might. Their presence was a comfort on its own.
Then, he knelt down by the statue of Hylia just across their post. He came here every time he visited the village. He prayed for the safety of the village, pleading that no evil forces would follow him and breach its sanctity. He begged for forgiveness for his mistake of a century past. He thanked the goddess for giving him the opportunity to rectify that mistake and asked her for the strength he needed to see it through. She never answered, leaving him unsure of his next steps. He couldn’t blame her for it, either. Surely she had better things to do than listen to the silent cries of a failed hero. But sometimes he felt revitalized, and sometimes he felt stronger. It had to count for something, and he would make sure that it did.
After he finished praying, he set his sights on the general supply store. Every trip to Kakariko meant a trip to The Curious Quiver, where’d he’d shop his for his empty quiver until the weight of it hurt his back. Same as he did everywhere arrows could be bought. They were always in short supply, and Link always had need for them. Fire arrows came in handy, fried his game for him when he needed a quick bite. Normal arrows gave him the ease of being able to avoid a fight. His skill with a bow had been honed long before he remembered, and he’d thanked his previous self for it every day. Some enemies didn’t need to be fought close up. Sometimes, he needed to save his strength for when his sword arm needed it.
And so he dutifully lined the pockets of Rola, the store clerk, once again. He figured he was her most well paying customer. Buying arrow upon arrow and sometimes leaving her stock completely empty. Nothing left but dust at the bottom of the basket.
Every time he came in, she practically begged him to show off his skills. She laid it on thick, and whilst her forwardness was flattering, it also made Link slightly uncomfortable. Each time, he politely denied her request to light up the torches near the Goddess Statue with flaming arrows. Could he do it? Of course. Would he do it? Well, as embarrassing as it was, when he entered Kakariko, he wanted to leave his weapons at the gate. He couldn’t, of course. The idea was entirely metaphorical. He needed to be ready to jump into action always. Protect the women and children who would undoubtedly look to him, along with Cado and Dorian, to protect them if an intruder came. But he would not hoist the bow from his back willingly. In fact, whenever he came here, he made a point to ignore its existence enitrely.
Rola sulked a bit at every denial, but it didn’t stop her from asking again the next time he came to visit. He figured she might just like to talk shop with him, her passion for the craft was admirable. Or maybe she was just lonely. He could understand that, too.
On his way to The Curious Quiver, he passed The Shuteye Inn. Nanna had asked him if he planned to stay here this night. It was a futile question, as he was sure she knew. He never slept there. He’d explained to her once, as best he could, using his hands and expressions, that Ollie the owner kept him up all night with his snoring. She’d laughed and heartily agreed, complaining that Ollie snored both night and day away.
Truth is, he’d tried sleeping there once on his first night in the village, and scared Ollie half to death with his first night terror of many to come. He’d been dreaming of the siege of Hyrule castle. Despite not remembering the actual event, the details were clear as day in his dreams, undoubtedly fuelled by both Lady Impa and King Rhoam’s stories. He vaguely remembered a Lynel charging at him before darkness slammed into him. He’d woken up screaming, sweat pouring off him in waves. Duvet clutched in one hand like a shield, sword at the ready in the other. Ollie had come in hurriedly, looking for the commotion. In all his confusion, Link had jumped out of bed and into a fighting stance. He’d stood there, in his underwear, a terrified Ollie with tears in his eyes across from him, before jolting awake and realizing what a grave mistake he’d made.
The morning after, Ollie made no eye contact with Link. Stuttering through his words. A rehearsed barrage of pleasantries and wishes to see Link again soon. Link was sure he meant none of it. He dropped a basket of apples and hearty truffles off at Ollie’s doorstep the same day, along with a handwritten note telling him he was sorry and that he would steer clear of him. He’d find his rest elsewhere. He never spoke to Ollie again, and to this day the Inn owner still avoided making eye contact. Link wasn’t sure if Ollie had told, but if he had, nobody in the village treated him differently for it.
His throat had hurt the rest of the day and the days after. It felt like pins and needles were latched inside. Everything hurt going down. The sourness of apples made him wince in pain, and even the soothing Hateno milk made him shiver as it coated his raw throat.
In the days after, he tried replicating the noise he heard himself make that night. He figured if he built it up slowly, he might be able to do it. It would be one thing he achieved on his own, without help from his former self.
Lady Impa had informed him he had been unable to speak before the calamity as well. An accident of some kind. It comforted him, knowing he wasn’t that different, that broken.
But even with careful training, the pain remained. He made no progress, and so he simply stopped trying.
After his stop at The Curious Quiver, he picked up some fortified pumpkins at Olkin’s pumpkin field. Then he stopped by High Spirits Produce to pick up some eggs and butter for his breakfast the next morning. By then, the sun had long dipped behind the mountain peaks, casting the entirety of the village in shadows. High Spirits produce boasted a nicely decorated deck next to their shop, equipped with a cooking pot and many ceramic pots filled with various herbs. Link spread out his ingredients on the table and lit the lantern dangling over the fence of the deck. Moths and other insects came flying at it in an instant, but Link just covered his produce with a cloth and let them be.
He prepared the pot for cooking, letting it warm up over the fire. He prepped his veggies. A fortified pumpkin, a stray swift carrot he had found in his satchel, some radishes. Cutting them down in small chunks with a knife, he chiseled out of flint stone himself before dropping them into the pot unceremoniously. He poured some fresh milk into the pot and brought it to a boil. rock salt and various herbs he’d clipped from the pots on the deck gave the mixture a pleasant fragrance. It all came together to a deliciously smelling veggie cream soup.
Link had spent many an evening here, cooking and eating his dinners. Koko and Cottla, Dorian’s girls, sometimes joined him for dinner. They brought him vegetables and fruits they grew in their yard. He would eat in silence, as always, but enjoy their excited chatter as they ate the meals he put his heart and soul into. Sometimes other residents joined him as well, remembering Nanna’s tall tales of his cooking being the best she’d ever had. They complimented him on all his meals he made, though the girls made fun of him one time when he experimented with putting crickets in the herb sauté. He couldn’t blame them, though. It came out inedible, and he’d chomped it down like the hardened soldier he was. They laughed and laughed, and he’d feigned being hurt, at which they hurriedly told him it was okay and that everyone made mistakes. When they realized he was joking, they sat on the bench with their arms crossed, sticking out their tongues at him.
As an apology, he made them honeyed apples, which they chomped down cheerfully, and all was well.
This evening, though, nobody joined him. The soft afternoon wind had grown into a steady howl, shaking the wind chimes in an unsettling melody. Most residents had rushed inside to eat their dinners in their cozy homes. Even Lady Impa’s guards had moved up the stairs to stand under the awning of her hall, expecting rain.
Link had no home in the village, and so he sat outside on the deck, eating his dinner in the dim light of the lantern. He didn’t mind, though. He had spent many nights under the stars. He’d slept through rainstorms in the Faron jungle, in the freezing cold in one of Hebra’s many caves. He’d survived harsher climates, and so he thanked the quiet village of Kakariko for even welcoming him at all.
By the time he finished eating, the sun had fully set, leaving the village shrouded in darkness, save for the fireflies floating around the fields. Link cleaned up his dinner slowly, taking the time to convalesce in the simplicity of the task. Mindless, he scrubbed the pot and his plate, putting any leftovers in a container for Olkin or Steel to use as fertilizer.
He was so lost in thought, that he only heard the soft footfalls when they were right behind him. The unexpectedness of it left him startled and without second thought, he whirled around to face his attacker head on. Heart beating in his throat, he found himself staring into the darkness.
Confused, his gaze dropped to the floor. There, he found his culprit. A furry black cat looked up at him through yellow eyes. Its pupils huge, staring up at him without blinking. Link inspected the cat thoroughly. He had never seen it before. He had never seen any cat in the village. It wore no collar, and its matted coat showed no indication of an owner at all. Carefully, he sat down onto the bench, never letting the cat out of his sight. It must’ve come from behind the deck, otherwise he would have seen it. In his mind, he berated himself for letting his guard down. This time, it was a cat. Another time, it might be a member of the Yiga, or a monster.
While it looked innocent enough, the cat had scared him pretty badly. Only now had his heartbeat slowed down. The cat's gaze lingered on him, almost in anticipation. Link cast a glance at his surroundings. The wind still howled through the trees, and the first raindrops had started to come down. Neither of them moved, neither of them made a sound. They sat there for a while. The cat upright, stick straight and wide awake. Link, legs spread apart and leaning forward. In his head, he filtered through everything he knew about cats, which was surprisingly little.
Sharp paws, good fishers, good hunters. They made a sound of contentment, a soft vibration. He had no idea how he knew this, just did.
Somehow, he doubted this cat was a good hunter. They way it had come up to him after dinner, seemingly staring him down until he relinquished some of his food. But Link had no food left. It sat before him like it just expected a plate to be put down in front of it. Its fluffy tail folded lazily over its paws. The humming of the insects at the lanterns was the only sound breaking the silence.
Eventually, Link reached for his satchel, where he pulled out a flask. The cat followed his movements carefully. He set the flask beside him and reached for his satchel again. This time, pulling out a tin cup.
Slowly, he opened the flask and poured fresh Hateno milk into the cup. He took a few sips of it, relishing in its taste. Then, he leaned down and set the cup in front of him, gesturing for the cat to drink from it. It didn't move a muscle. They sat there for another little while, before Link gathered his stuff to leave. He picked up the cup, ignoring the cat, who hadn't drunk any of his graciously offered milk, completely. Giving the cat an indignant look, he hesitated for a bit and picked up the cup to put it on the table. Just to be sure no one would knock it over, he told himself. Would be a waste of perfectly good milk.
Link stepped off the deck, unsure of what to do now. He looked around him, at the empty streets, and back at the cat, still staring at him through those eerie yellow eyes. He held up his hand hesitantly, halfway through a wave goodbye, before slamming it back down. The cat wouldn’t even drink his milk. He would not say goodbye to it.
He walked up the slope behind Cado’s house. Deciding to pay a quick visit to Cotera, the Great Fairy guardian of the village. He gathered a few Silent Princesses before walking up to her fountain. The wind here was still harsh, but it howled less loudly. Almost as if Cotera’s presence mellowed it out.
Link walked up the steps to the fountain and stared into the water. His reflection rippled in harsh waves, to the point he barely recognized himself. He gathered the flowers in one hand and crouched down to the water. He reached his hand into the water, letting it be engulfed by the waves. It felt cool to the touch, but not ice-cold. Just a soothing kind of cold that calmed his bones. He sighed deeply. The environment up here was calmer, less bustling energy than down in the village itself. Especially now that Cotera hadn’t shown up yet. He was outside the stir of the village, but still safe in its outskirts.
He knew the silent night above him spanned miles and miles wide. He wondered if anywhere else in the land could offer him the same safety he felt here. The idea of it made him shiver. He wondered who was looking up at it right now and wishing for better times, waiting for a hero to save them.
The waves intensified, swirling harshly to a toil. A soft rumble filled his ears and he pulled his hand backwards at lightning speed before the giantess that was Cotera burst out from underneath the surface.
The water dripped off of her in droplets the size of grapes. She took a moment for her showy entrance, as she always did. The moonlight caught on her jewelry in patterns of stars, falling into the carefully carved facets of her necklaces.
She adjusted her hair before letting his eyes fall on him, and on the bouquet of flowers in his hand.
“Heyyy, Link. Come to admire me again?” She crooned. She sent him a flirty wink. Despite being more than used to her antics, he could still not ignore her provocation. He felt his face warm up to the tips of his ears. He sent her an angry look.
She rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine. Just a thank-you bouquet for my protection of the village or whatever.” Greedily, she held out her hand. Link nodded, shoving the bouquet out in front of him and dropping it in her enormous hand. She was right, he was grateful for her protection. Her presence too.
The bouquet looked positively pathetic in the palm of her hand, not even covering half her hand palm. Regardless, Link knew she appreciated the gesture. She pinched the flowers between the thumb and index finger of her other hand and brought them to her nose, smelling carefully as to not suck them up.
“They’re beautiful, Link.” She sighed.“But they always are.”
Much like meeting Nanna and praying at the Goddess Statue, meeting Cotera had become a sort of ritual. Any time he visited the village, he’d pay her a quick visit under the light of the moon. They would just sit in each other's presence, enjoying the company. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he quietly suspected she was as lonely as he was. Secluded here on the top of a hill, overlooking a village whose residents barely know of her existence.
His first time meeting Cotera had not been a pleasant occasion. He had just come back from Lady Impa’s hall, where she told him of his defeat and subsequent death a hundred years earlier. He’d been exasperated, desperate for somewhere to be alone in the chaos of bright Kakariko village. He walked up the hill, slowly, keeping the last of his composure, before breaking out in a run when he reached the summit.
He’d charged into the woods, hoping for somewhere to let all his anger and disappointment out. Unable to scream, he grabbed his sword and started hacking into the ground, the trees, anything that came into view. With zero regard for his surroundings, he almost slashed into the giant bud of Cotera’s fountain before she called out to him.
“Stop that, you barbarian!” Link had frozen at the sound of a woman's voice booming around him. He took a few steps back from the bud, examining it closely. He was forced to take another step back when a giant hand shot out from between the leaves, pointing at him accusatorily.
“Apologize! Now!’’ The voice had shrieked. Link, unable to speak, and even if he was able to, too stunned to say anything, dug around in his satchel. He was panicking, slightly terrified of the apparently enormous lady hiding inside a flower bud. In the rush of the moment, he dug his hand into his rupee bag and pulled out a handful of rupees. He didn’t know how else to apologize. He knocked on the hand with care, after which it opened.
“Huh?” The lady let out.
Link dropped the rupees into her open hand.
“Ahh!” She pulled back her hand immediately. It was silent for a moment, before her hand came back out. “More!” She’d cried. Link had considered it for a second, clear confusion and honest astonishment apparent. Then, he felt his cheeks heat, and started digging around in his bag again. The hand waited for him, slightly impatiently. He scrounged together more rupees. A hundred to be exact. A nice, round number.
After handing them over, the bud burst open into a gigantic pink flower. In the middle, it had a fountain in place of its pistil. Out of that fountain, the Great Fairy Cotera rose.
“This is just what I needed!” She’d exclaimed.
She had helped mend his clothes, even upgrading them. And slowly but surely, a bit more with each visit, she had come to understand Link’s inability to speak. She never seemed to mind, more than pleased to rattle on about this and that whilst having a considerate ear to rattle to. Link listened dutifully, nodding and gesturing to show he was listening.
Sitting with her and listening to her stories eased his loneliness, his aching heart longing for connection. Where else would he fit in but with a great fairy that hadn’t spoken to anyone in a hundred years?
“You brought company tonight?” Cotera spoke, softly. Her eyes fell on the forest behind him.
Startled into the present, Link wheeled around on his heels following her gaze, scanning the forest for any intruders. There, in the quiet darkness, in the shade of an oak tree, the black cat sat. Its eyes glowing in the moonlight. It looked at both of them solemnly. Link's face scrunched up in confusion. Had the cat followed him here?
“Seems like a sweet thing.” Cotera spoke again. Link turned back to her, confusion clear as day on his face. Cotera understood his expressions perfectly well. Sometimes Link felt like she could read his thoughts.
“You don’t know that cat?” She asked, at which Link had shaken his head in confirmation.
“Hmm, I’ve never seen it around these parts before.” Then she shrugged: “It’s cute enough.”
She didn’t mention the cat again. Link remained perfectly aware of its presence.
Her conversation ebbed and flowed. She spoke about her past, people she’d met, parts of Hyrule she’d seen.
Link sat there for a while, listening to her stories. Eventually, he ventured around the fountain, scouring the ground for Endura carrots. She barely followed his movements, prattling on about some giant fairy man or another. He had a soft smile on his face as he listened to her. The cat still sat in the shade of the tree. It followed him closely. Every now and then, Link’s eyes fell on it. Had it followed him here? What did it want?
When Cotera told him to go sleep, get some rest, they bid each other goodbye. Link slowly stalked down the mountain. The cat had crept out of sight. Its presence unnerved him, but maybe its absence did so more. It had sat there all night, observing, waiting.
Looking back over his shoulder, he saw a shadow sneak across the rocky mountainside. He recognized the graceful walk of his feline companion, and stood still for a moment. The cat stopped, too. Still watching him. When he continued, He felt the cat’s presence, close, keeping to the shadows. It followed him all the way through the village, over the bridge by the goddess statue, through the cloud of fireflies by the willow. It kept an appropriate distance, and once Link passed the fields, it dipped into the shadow near the rock side.
Link ducked into the hutch at the end of the path. Same as he did every night he spent in Kakariko. Lighting a fire to keep him warm. The small wooden shelter had been exactly that for him, a shelter, nearly every night when he’d longed for the safety of a stable but feared the expectations of the guests he’d meet. When he was bone weary after fights with hinoxes, taluses, lynels, desperate for a night without interruptions, without danger.
He’d have restless sleep wherever he laid his head down, so why not do so in the quiet safety of the hutch at the end of the fields in Kakariko Village, where he disturbed no one with his night terrors, and where no one needed anything from him.
He spent his sleepless nights gazing into the fields, following the lazy floating movements of the fireflies, staring into the dark abyss of the sky, contemplating the stars. Quietly keeping watch in a town that didn’t need him to, until sleep took him away for the night.
On this particular night, though, he would not be alone. As sleep overtook him, head leaning against the wooden beam of the hutch, a small black cat slinked across the path, into the hutch. And took its place beside Link. It sat there all night. It’s tail moving lazily, swatting at flies occasionally. Whilst Link slept the night away, the cat kept quiet watch over him.