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Sky found happiness easy to come by, but contentment was much more difficult. There was happiness in meals shared with his brothers, in the proud ache in his feet after a long day, or in the relief of a hard fought battle. Contentment, an overwhelming serenity and joy, required the right time and place. Conditions needed to align exactly in order for Sky to feel at peace in every fiber of his being.
And there, laying in a meadow, Sky was content.
The grass was long and green, swaying in a warm breeze. The day was warm but not hot, the sky dotted with piled clouds but not so many as to blot out the sun. Around him was the smell of prairie—grass and flowers, the soft soil under his back. There were birds singing from perches on tall reeds which caught the wind and beneath them, a constant rattle of leaping bugs. With his eyes closed, Sky felt like he was at home, lounging on some desolate island as Crimson preened paces away.
But even beyond his imagination taking him home, Sky was content to be in the present. Twilight was at his side, maybe sleeping, but quiet nonetheless. Over the two of them was the faint smell Sky came to know as skunk (though he still wasn’t sure what a skunk was), and he could still taste that sour smoke in his mouth.
When Twilight needed a break, when he could, he liked to sneak off and smoke what he called Ordon grass. For a long time, the rancher did it alone, but as he and Sky grew closer, Twilight became more relaxed around him. Once they were solidly friends, once Twilight trusted Sky not to rat him out, Twilight began sharing his grass. Sometimes, on long quiet marches, Twilight palmed Sky a piece of candy with a wink that always said ‘only if you want it’ and other times, Twilight took Sky on bug hunts and then asked if he’d like to join.
Sky never felt pressured by it, and Twilight never seemed annoyed on the occasion Sky did turn him down. But more and more, Sky grew fond of the odd little drug and came to treasure those afternoons basking in some dopey haze with his brother.
“Hey,” Twilight murmured, his voice gentle so as not to break the day’s peace.
Sky opened his eyes to the cerulean sky, glancing over at his brother. Twilight’s eyes were fixed on the clouds, a stem of grass bobbing between his lips, one hand folded beneath his head.
“What’s up?” Sky asked.
He hoped Twilight hadn’t smelled anything on the breeze. Sky hoped this peace would last.
Twilight pointed his finger upwards, to a tall cloud in the sky. “That look like a dick t’ya?”
Sky paused, following Twilight’s finger. The tall cloud was a narrow tower of thick white clouds, rounded at the top and at its base, emerging from a thicket of lower clouds. Twilight was right.
“It’s a very…yeah,” Sky agreed. “It’s penissy.”
Twilight sighed. “Thank the spirits, thought I was jus’ in the trap for a second.”
Sky peered at the cloud more intently. “No, no. It doesn’t look like anything else.”
Twilight smiled. “Well, maybe it is a dick.”
Sky snickered. “What? A sky dick?”
“No, not yours,” Twilight teased.
Sky laughed, socking Twilight in the shoulder lightly. Twilight laughed too. And then, they couldn’t stop laughing for several minutes. Each time they glanced at each other, one broke down into a giggle and the other was dragged along until their faces were hot and no noise could come out and only then, did they manage to gather themselves.
Twilight waved his hand, humming in thought. “See I hear these stories comin’ up ‘bout gods ‘n monsters ‘n all that. ‘N you know the clouds,” Twilight reasoned, “they’s caused by a god. So maybe that’s a real dick.”
Sky rolled his eyes. “No way. It’s not even attached to anything!”
“Well what else a cloud gotta be ‘ttach to ‘cept the sky?”
Sky paused, considering the question. “Well they—they’re not attached to anything.”
Twilight sat straight up. “That can’t be true!” he scoffed.
Sky tipped his head. “Why not?”
“Well, they’s—I mean they’re up there.”
“Mhm, but they’re not attached to anything.”
Twilight frowned, stewing.
“Twilight,” Sky asked, “did you think clouds have to be attached to the sky?”
“Well I dunno,” Twilight huffed. “Reckon ev’rythin’s sorta ‘ttach to ev’rythin’ else.”
“You’re not.”
“I’m on the ground, ain’t I?”
“But you can leave the ground.”
“But I come back down,” Twilight argued. “So if clouds’s up there, well’n they gotta be ‘ttach t’ som’thin’, else they come down, right?”
Sky paused, frowning, cupping his chin. He could not argue with the rancher’s logic, and frankly, Sky didn’t know how clouds did stay in the sky.
“What about your god?” Sky asked. “Can’t it be magic?”
Twilight shook his head. “Hm-mh. See, them cloud’s the wind god’s sheep. He make ‘em outta dandelion fluff the breeze catch, ‘n then he herd ‘em all ‘round.”
Sky folded his arms, now also sitting up. For a long time, he and Twilight did nothing but think in silence. They faced each other, arms and legs crossed, wearing frowns.
“They’re not sheep,” Sky said. “They’re…” He pinched his eyes shut, drawing on all those lessons he’d slept through as a child. “They’re water.”
Twilight looked incredulous. “Water.”
“Mhm, that’s how the rain happens.” Sky paused, pestering Twilight. “Or did you think it was sheep piss?”
Twilight sputtered out a childish giggle at the idea, but that laugh quickly tumbled out of control and soon he was holding his sides as he cackled in the grass. Sky couldn’t help but join along, ending up on his back, tears in his eyes, each laugh hurting his cheeks and belly.
Once they’d calmed down again, their very serious scientific inquiry continued. Except Twilight knew nothing about the sky beyond a visit he claimed to have had to a city up there, which was impossible to know was true or not because it was Twilight who always told tall tales. And then Sky, who’d snored his way through most science lessons, scraping by on afterschool studying and barely passing scores.
“Well,” Twilight considered, “how’s the water get up there? ‘N where’s it come from?”
Sky did not have an answer. He peered up at the clouds for a little while again, as if trying to pull their mysteries apart one tuft at a time. Sky paused, realization shadowing his face.
“Hey,” Sky said, pointing to another cloud, “that one kinda looks like Ledge, right?”
Twilight squinted at Sky’s cloud. He made out a round blob, two smaller wefts curling up from what would be a head…
Twilight burst into laughter again. Sky followed.
Warriors did not enjoy being on hero-wrangling duty. Normally he might have Twilight’s help finding the others, although taking the rancher made the chore annoying because Twilight was annoying, because Twilight couldn’t go ten steps with out licking his pinky and shoving it in Warriors’ ear, or pouncing on him, or hitting him with a stick or—
Warriors stopped, lifting his eyes suspiciously. He heard peals of hysterical laughter, half managed words sending whoever it was back into a fit all over again. Warriors closed his eyes, drawing in a breath, letting it out a sigh.
Just be glad it’s not Wild or Hyrule this time, he told himself.
It was Sky and Twilight who were overdue at camp, and they usually came back in good health and better humor. Warriors might have to smack a bug out of his face for his troubles, but the two were always willing to come back when Warriors asked the first time. Unlike some heroes.
“Sky!” Warriors called. “Twilight!”
The giggle paused and then began again. The grass just beyond a small knoll shivered and then Sky’s head popped up over the horizon.
“Hullo!” he called, waving both arms overhead.
Warriors reached the two. Twilight was on his back, limbs splayed out, a stupid smile on his face. His eyes were bright from laughter, and, Warriors noticed, touched red. Sky looked much the same, except Sky bobbled around the trodden grass as if he were somewhere else altogether.
“What are you two doing?” Warriors asked.
“Yer mama,” Twilight answered lazily.
Warriors rolled his eyes sharply. “Yes, very funny, rancher.”
“We’re cloud watching,” Sky explained.
Warriors crooked a brow. “What’s so interesting about clouds?”
Moreover, Warriors was somewhat annoyed they hadn’t invited him. He didn’t care for bug hunting, which they were all aware of, and so he was never asked along on those excursions. But this sort of lazing was perfect for the captain. He could sit in silence with them, point out funny clouds and draw them and tell stories.
Twilight shrugged. “What ain’ int’restin’ ‘bout it?”
Warriors shook his head. “It sounds painfully dull.”
Sky looked offended. He narrowed his eyes at the captain, searching him up and down. Warriors only met Sky’s look with one of his own, purposefully unbothered.
“Oh,” Sky laughed after a moment, “you’re mad.”
“I am not,” Warriors rejected all too quickly.
“Why’s you mad?” Twilight asked.
“I’m not,” the captain protested again.
Sky shielded one side of his mouth with his hand, whispering to Twilight very loudly, “He’s mad we didn’t invite him.”
“Oh,” Twilight cooed, an impish smile on his face.
Warriors shook his head. “No, I am not. In any case, you’re late—”
“Hey,” Twilight interrupted, tugging on Warriors’ pant leg, “you see that cloud?”
Warriors groaned, but decided to play along if it got them back to camp faster. He lifted his eyes to the sky, blindly searching. After a moment, he shook his head.
Sky gasped. “You dunno what your dick looks like?” he balked.
Warriors’ face flushed scarlet. “I beg your pardon?”
Twilight pointed at the cloud even more intensely. “The dick cloud.”
“What dick cloud?”
“The cloud!” Sky answered. “It looks like a dick!”
“I did not see a cloud that looks like a dick—hey!”
Sky took Warriors’ pants by the thighs, trying to force them down. Warriors shoved Sky aside by his head, clearing his throat as he tightened his belt.
“I coulda sworn you had one,” Sky said, genuinely amazed.
“‘Course he does,” Twilight drawled. The rancher reached a lazy hand toward’s Sky’s head, picking out a blade of grass from the chosen’s hair. “All ‘e ever talks ‘bout is how he uses it.”
Warriors crooked his brow, hands on his hips. “Yes, I have a dick. Yes, I use it. Ask your mother, rancher—”
Twilight barreled into Warriors’ legs. The captain yelped, spilling backwards. One, two steps on his heels and then he was on the ground. Twilight ripped up a handful of grass and tried to force it into the captain’s mouth.
“Get off!” Warriors barked, slapping at Twilight.
Twilight shook his head. “Make me,” he sang.
“You—!” Warriors grabbed at the grass blindly, coming up with a handful of crushed berries which he splattered against Twilight’s ear.
The rancher paused. Warriors grinned at first, watching purplish blue juice stain Twilight’s hair and face. But then, the captain’s victory faded. He knew that pause.
“Twilight,” Warriors started in a nervous warn, “don’t you dare—”
But Twilight would not be stopped. The rancher grabbed Warriors’ arm, fighting the man’s sleeve up. Warriors kicked and smacked and swore, to which Twilight replied with swears and insults of his own. He took Warriors’ forearm in his hands and began to wring them back and forth.
“You’re such a child!” Warriors spat.
“‘Leas’ I gotta dick!” Twilight replied.
Sky, meanwhile, was making a flowercrown, humming to himself as his brothers tussled in the grass. Squawks, cusses, a few flailing limbs appearing above the grass before vanishing beneath again. Sky looked up when he heard a measured sigh. Time stood behind his shoulder, his arms folded, a tired frown on his face.
“Hullo,” Sky chimed.
“Good afternoon,” Time replied. He glanced down, taking in Sky’s appearance. “I see Twilight’s been sharing his favorite pastime with you.”
Sky sighed sadly. “I can’t figure out fishing,” he denied.
Time’s lips quirked up in a smile, but he failed to clarify. “Who’s winning?”
Sky shrugged. “Probably Twilight.”
“Probably,” Time agreed.
The two looked up as Warriors was more or less thrown airborne. The captain fought to keep his footing, panting hard. His skin was streaked with dirt, grass, and berries, his forearm angry red where Twilight had used his hands to burn him. Warriors tried to run. Time was impressed the captain made it as far as he did.
In short order though, Twilight all but pounced on the captain. The two men fell back into the grass. There was more cursing, the insults running together nonsensically. And then, the end.
“Korok!” Warriors pleaded. “Korok! Korok!”
Time let out a satisfied sigh through his nose. “Well, that settles it.”
“Hey,” Sky asked, nudging Time, “what’s that cloud look like?”
Time tipped his head, peering into the distance. “A dick,” he answered.