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The whole forest was dark and dank. The moon was slivered up in the sky, a relief to Time as he shouldered past long, trailing, mossy vines. If it had been full, he would have to keep an eye on it, and his attention was needed elsewhere. The air here was thick and heavy, like a suffocating blanket tossed over them, no relief attainable. Holding his lantern higher, the fog retreated backwards. Without making a sound, Wild came and stood beside him. The Champion had no light source and didn’t seem to need one with the way his eyes practically glowed in the dim light.
“Are you good with trudging through the night, Old Man?” Wild’s voice was quiet but held a teasing edge to it, Time’s lips quirking up ever so slightly. Time found levity in the Champion’s company and among all their companions, this is the one he’d want to be lost in a forsaken forest with. He wondered if Wild felt the same about him.
“A better plan than settling here.” He paused and looked around, his one-eyed gaze causing him to turn to perceive more of the surroundings.
“Dreadful anger stirs in this forest.” He stated. The feeling had only grown as they attempted to find a way out of this bog. With a spring in his step that Time found admirable under the depressing circumstances, Wild moved forward. The Champion had an air of complete ease and comfort about him, as if death could touch and linger on his skin but was forbidden to consume him.
Without a map or guidance, Time let their resident explorer sift out a path in the unsteady ground. Inevitably, he’d still sink further into the muck than Wild, his armor heavier, his frame bulkier. At times, he would watch Wild’s foot leave the earth, and no track was even left behind. He and the Champion were both born of the forest, but among these ancient trees, he felt a small wave of trepidation. The trees muttered angrily around them, but didn’t bar their path - yet. It was only a matter of time before they would decide enough was enough.
A shiver ran up his spine, the hair on the back of his neck standing up straight. Wild stilled, like a deer caught in the crosshairs. They barely breathed, and then a familiar sound sounded in his ears. His hand was on his sword in mere seconds as the scuttling grew louder.
They descended from the interlocked branches above them, terrible skulls etched on their backs, legs twitching and groping to ensnare. Time despised Skulltulas. Ever since the Great Deku Tree, he had linked them to death. Permanent and irreversible, like a plague, they would rot the world around them and then devour it. A sorrow surrounded them wherever they went. They sounded like the muttered crying of tortured souls. They had an eerie quality in how they lived and stalked, how they fell from strings out of nowhere. He would never forget the absolute terror in the secret passage of Clock Town when one had dropped on him. Even now, he could see the cursed family, begging for a savior, begging for relief from their tortured fates.
The movement of time slowed around the Champion, and the Old Man saw the strange occurrence that their Champion had the ability over. The blue tuniced hero backflipped out of the way of the monsters and fired his bow rapidly into the hard flesh of the insects. The arrows bounced off, not piercing their exoskeletons.
“Their underside!” He directed the Cook, and a call of confirmation was shouted back at him.
Time spun and slashed an entire spider in half; another started spinning, its soft belly exposed for brief intervals of time. Striking forward, his blade pierced through it, and it withered and died on the spongy ground. More sounds had his ears flicking back and his stance ready. As he turned to attack one, a smaller spider landed on his back. He could feel the weight of its legs pressing down around his shoulders. It found one of the few weaknesses of his armor, his exposed neckline. Fangs sank into his flesh and a searing pain met his skin. Time did not curse, instead he grabbed with a gauntleted hand at the filthy arachnid. Wrestling with its demented strength, he freed himself from its grasp and threw it to the ground in front of him. The other spiders were converging on him. Time hated spiders. Lifting Din’s Flame up to the air, flames exploded around him. The screeching of enemies never sounded so melodic in Time’s ears. His magic was drained, and he tried to stand, but faltered.
The world tilted oddly, his hands feeling unsteady, and his grip lessened. His trembling frame fell onto the forest floor. Venom, his mind screamed at him, they must be venomous. Time knew they were; how many instances had he fought these foul creatures? A severe reprimand rang through his own mind at his foolishness. A voice called to him, panicked and hoarse, but it sounded so far away, like someone saying goodbye to him as he floated through space and time, back to a life he’d thought he’d lost.
He needed to move; this was not a safe place to rest. Struggling against every nerve in his body, he panted as he sat up. A cold shiver ran over him, sweat beading on his brow and around his collarbone. A coldness enveloped his limbs that he fought against. The horizon line dipped back and forth; everything was brighter than it had been before, his lantern still flickering on the forest floor, blinding his eyes. Attempting to bring his hand up to cover the offending light, his stomach turned dangerously. This morning's meager meal and bile surged up his throat and onto the gnarled roots underneath him. Someone was trying to talk to him, but it was too loud.
A strange feeling coursed over him as his head was tipped forward forcefully, and something else was at his neck. Strong hands held him still as lips pressed to his wound, and a strangled part of Time’s mind understood that someone was attempting to suck the venom out of the bite. He heard the hero cough and spit, his head was tilted once more, and it repeated.
His throat closed after he vomited, his tongue feeling heavy and swollen. Blinking left him dizzier, and he tried to focus on where he was and what was happening. The feeling of a hand on his shoulder grounded him, making his swaying vision steady. Brilliant blue eyes stared at him, and a scarred face pulled into a heavy frown as the back of his hand wiped away blood from stained lips. A hero, one whom he knew. The name stuck like sludge across his skull, and he couldn’t recall it.
“Come on, Old Man, pull yourself together.” He tried to respond, but the words were strangled in his dry throat. Bringing up his trembling hands, he attempted to sign what he had previously thought. The movements were pathetic, but he couldn’t still the shaking. Frustration built in his stomach.
“We don’t have any potions.” The voice said, and Time let his head hang back down, feeling utterly defeated at the comment. His arm was moved around something, and he heard whoever this was curse softly as he attempted to help Time stand up. With a far greater effort than it should have required, he got his feet under him again.
One heavy footfall at a time, he was being moved. Leaning most of his weight on his smaller companion, he wondered just where they were going. His head was bowed, his fringe falling in front of his eyes. His neck burned, and every step was a slog. Finally, he was told to sit down, and his wobbling legs gave out under him.
His eyelids grew heavy, his muscles all numb, and his heart pitter-pattered in his chest at odd rhythms that made him gasp. A bright spot of light made him shut his eyes completely, and a heat that he was desperate for warmed his face.
Wild saw Time fall, and the Champion felt a panic ignite in him. Their fearless, steadfast leader was so stoic and strong that a part of him believed that nothing could truly faze the man. Wild should know better; he’d watched an entire nation fall under his care.
The bite on the back of Time’s neck was inflamed and sickly looking. Wild was unperturbed; he’d done far worse and grosser than this. The venom and blood touched his tongue, and he spat. Even with the minimal amount in his mouth, his head grew dizzier. He repeated the action, pulling more blood and venom out of the hero. The Cook hoped that his rudimentary solution to venom removal was enough to see their leader recover quickly.
The Old Man’s eyes were both open, the eerie white of his one eye staring into nothing as it looked straight at Wild but didn’t perceive him. The tattoos on his face had grown more striking against his paling, clammy skin.
“Come on, Old Man, pull yourself together.” Wild’s voice cracked with concern. Time tried to respond, but instead his hands came up and signed a shaking word. No, they didn’t have any potions. Wild chewed on his lip, considering his best options. They needed to move from this place; the forest was calling him elsewhere, and he hoped that it would lead them to someplace safer. Time was far too heavy to lift; he’d have to have the hero’s help to move him. Struggling to his own feet, they started slowly moving through the bog. It was a slog, and with every passing minute, Time seemed to grow less and less aware of what was befalling them. Finally, he saw it, a sheltered alcove where the trees weren’t as twisted and rotten. Warmth; they would need a fire. His slate contained firewood, and with a strike of flint and his sword, it burst asunder. Some food, something to counterattack whatever it was lacing through their leader’s veins.
Food made everything better. Wild looked anxiously over to where Time was propped against a tree trunk. His breathing was stuttered and shaky, and his eyes were shut now. A sheen of sweat reflected in the campfire light. A part of Wild that he didn’t often entertain wished that someone else were here. Someone who was used to looking after people, just not… himself. He wasn’t as experienced as the Veteran, as resourceful as the Traveler, as medically trained as Warriors. He didn’t possess Twilight’s steadfastness in dire circumstances. There were no secrets he could summon forth like Four, and he didn’t have the Goddess’ blessing like Sky. Even their youngest was well-versed in poisoning and diseases common to his seafaring ways. No, Wild at the end of the day was just him.
Wild may not be the best hero, but he was relentless. Nothing had stopped him, not even death, in his pursuit of freedom and peace. He would not falter now; he had done enough of that in his old life to last a lifetime. A hearty elixir should help that nasty bite and return Time to reality. Moblin guts and a hearty lizard were brought out of his slate, and he dumped them in the warming pot sitting in the fire. Now was the tricky part; he needed to get it just right to make the magic inside the most potent and reliable.
Letting it stew, he went over to Time and dabbed his forehead with a damp cloth. Those same dilated eyes stared up at him, and the gaze was eerie. Was this how people felt when he looked at them? Mumbled, thick words fell from their leader's lips.
“Mal?” He asked, stilted and shaky. Sweat was pouring off the hero. He’d dealt with certain things before, but he’d never seen Time look as tired as he did now. When Twilight was injured, their leader had aged dramatically, but even that was a better look than what the Champion saw now.
Wild felt his heart twist up in remorse. No, Time was not at home ill with his dearly beloved taking care of him. Instead, he was here in this forsaken forest, barely conscious, poisoned, and delirious. Wild pressed the cloth gently to his forehead.
“Sorry, Old Man, it’s just me.” He apologized. The sound of bubbling brought him back to the cook pot. Leaning over it, he watched and waited. There would come a moment when it would cure, and the Wild could see it. Humming a tune he didn’t know by name but felt was appropriate for the moment, he let that quiet part of his soul resonate with his cooking. A wave of dizziness drowned him for a moment but he found the end, and the elixir was completed. It would hopefully cure the worst of what their leader was experiencing.
Carefully removing it from the fire, he poured it into a bottle and let it sit for just a few minutes so as not to be scorching. Anxiety thrummed through him. Should he wait? He paced back and forth, glaring at the bottle on the ground.
His normally tranquil mind was tumultuous. What if this didn’t help? What would he do then? Worries and anxieties of what he couldn’t control choked up his throat and turned his stomach. What would the others do? What more could be done? His heart beat heavily in his chest as a memory threatened to overtake him. Wild squeezed his eyes shut. This was not the place, not the time. Gritting his teeth, he denied it, and a piece of soul ached at his rejection. Unshed tears burned his eyes. What had he missed?
The bottle glinted in the firelight, capturing his attention, and agitatedly he stomped over to it. That was enough time. Pushing aside his own shit, he focused on the person who needed him in the here and now. Snatching it up, he brought it to Time and instructed him.
“Drink this.” He said, his voice cracking. A shaking hand was lifted up, and the bottle was pressed to his lips. Slowly, Time drank the concoction down, and Wild was satisfied to see his hands regain some steadiness. His blank eye closed, back into Time’s normal visage. The leader sighed as he tipped his head back.
“I hate spiders.” Time croaked out, and the comment made an anxious laugh bubble out of Wild in relief. Plopping down next to their leader, he let his head fall back onto the tree as well, and they sat side by side for a few moments in silence. A small shit-eating grin spread across Wild’s face; anything to alleviate this tension that thrummed in his veins. Leaning forward across his crossed legs, he put his hand up to his chin and looked over to Time, straight-faced.
“What’s a spider?”