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“What were you thinking, huh?”
Link doesn’t answer, his face barely even twitches as Zelda wraps bandages around his injured arm, tugging them tight. She huffs, annoyed, and brushes her hair behind her ear with the back of her hand. Her hair-tie broke when they were escaping through the forest and there are still sticks and leaves tangled into her hair, but she cannot worry about that now. She makes sure the bandages sit properly, then returns the leftovers to her pack.
“You’re lucky that I’ve taken to carrying bandages, you know?”
She glares at Link, who nods at her, then goes back to moving his arm, checking for mobility. Zelda wishes she could be angry at him, wishes she could somehow fault Link for taking unnecessary risks, for getting them lost in the woods while they were running away. But she can’t. The only person she can be angry at is herself, for not being strong enough to help, for getting both of them attacked in the first place. She feels useless.
Zelda raises her head, frowning at the sky. The sun is already setting, sky a blazing red. She runs a hand through her hair, grimacing when it gets stuck on tangles and dirt. She pulls a leaf out of her hair, watching it fall to the ground. Link has sat up by now, crouching on the balls of his feet next to where Zelda is still kneeling. He is ready to move, ready to defend her. Just like always.
“It’s getting late. We should find a place to rest, right? No point in travelling through the night.”
Link nods and stands up, offering her a hand. Zelda pulls a face and gets up on her own, ignoring Link’s outstretched hand. They were supposed to travel to a new dig site, south-west from the castle. The first day on the road went well, but during the second day monsters attacked. The Moblins weren’t really a problem, not with Link being as skilled as he is, but they had to abandon their horses and flee when a Lynel showed up as well. It was one of the Lynel’s arrows that graced Link’s arm, chasing them long after they had escaped into the forest and the Moblins had given up.
They’re left with only what they were carrying on their backs, their tent left with their horses. So they will have to find a different place to sleep, for now. Until the sun rises again and they can either find their horses again or, far more likely, continue their track on their own. The horses will have run to the nearest stable, from where a guard will be able to retrieve them soon, but without knowing where, exactly, they are they cannot follow.
Zelda follows Link without hesitation when he starts leading her through the forest, head tilted to listen to his surroundings as the light slowly wanes. His sword is held in his hand, unsheathed, but from what Zelda can tell he seems to be as relaxed as he gets, during these kind of travels. Not truly relaxed, but close enough. She makes sure to keep up, to not fall behind. If they’re in a hurry, Link sometimes grabs her hand, but not now. Now they just walk in silence.
They soon reach a small stone outcrop, barely big enough to hide under. Zelda helps Link gather wood, then lights the fire herself. Link has a tendency to use his sword to create sparks, which is not something Zelda wants to watch. Ever, actually. Together, they settle down, close but not yet touching.
It’s cold. Zelda pulls her travelling coat tighter around herself, huddling close to the fire. Link gives her a look, but doesn’t offer his own coat up. He did that once, and then never again. The idea of watching Link freeze, just so that Zelda could be a little warmer, is horrifying. It was horrifying back then too, no matter how little Zelda actually liked Link in the beginning.
Zelda watches the fire dance, sparks flying up when Link ads another piece of wood. They’re lucky that it’s summer, the wood dry and air not as cold as it could be. Eventually, Zelda falls asleep, curled up on the ground, back to the stone that hides them from view and wind.
Her dreams are jumbled, flashes of memories, a familiar word speaking words she cannot make out, golden lights and a sinister red glow. Then she’s running, one hand in Link’s and the other clinging to her bag. Link is holding his sword, slashing a shadowy foliage in front of them. There is a noise, a sense of danger, and Link pushes her. An arrow hits him in the chest, in on one side and out the other. But that’s wrong. That’s not right. No, it didn’t go like this, he wasn’t that hurt. It was a grace, nothing more.
Zelda wakes up with a start, heart beating loudly in her chest, breath fast and shaking. Her eyes fly open, but she doesn’t move, only watching her surroundings. The fire is mostly embers now, kept alive by minimal wood but still hot. Link is sitting next to her, sword over his knees and eyes fixed onto the dark forest. Zelda takes a moment to get her breathing under control, then sits up. Link looks over to her at the movement, quickly checking her over before turning his attention away again. The moon is hidden by clouds, but Zelda knows it must be the middle of the night. And Link has kept watch the entire time. She frowns.
“If you’re tired, I can take over the watch. I won’t be going back to sleep any time soon.”
Link turns to her, looking her over for injuries once more, before shaking his head. He gestures for Zelda to lay back down, but she only rolls her eyes, brushing her hair out of her face. Fine. She expected him to refuse. But she’s too tired to fight, so she just wraps her arms around her knees and sits next to Link in silence. Her dream flashes before her eyes and she casts a look at link. In the firelight it’s hard to make out, but there doesn’t seem to be any new blood on him. Her bandages have held, for now. Good.
Zelda sighs again, barely more sound than breathing out this time. Link is fine. He didn’t die. He won’t die. Nobody will die for her. She will make sure of that, if not with the powers she’s supposed to have, then with the machines she is helping rediscover. She won’t be useless.
It’s a silent watch, that night.