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There are strangers in the forest.
Eight of them, in fact. Eight strangers that share his face, his eye color, his hair color, that wear armor that clinks loudly in silence of the trees and swords strapped to their hips, their backs.
He watches them from afar, through the scope on his Sheikah Slate, observing. They could be travelers from across the sea, now that the Calamity was dealt with and that means Hyrule is mostly somewhat livable again.
Or they could be Yiga, since they’re like goddess-damned cockroaches that won’t stay down no matter how many times he kills their members. They’ve been surviving in Hyrule for some ten thousand years, the death of one leader doesn’t mean they’re going to fall apart.
Either way, they’re worth keeping an eye on.
“I think we’re lost.”
The oppressive heat of the jungle clings to Time’s skin, sticky and heavy. He’s long shed his armor but the heat still clings, bearing down on them with some invisible force.
At first, he thought this was Twilight’s home, since Ordon was in the southern half of the continent and with a very similar environment. But they’d been walking for hours and had only seen ruins, civilizations from the distant past and not sign hat they were anywhere near Ordon.
Four suggested they might be in an in-between period. Rare, but possible. They hoped the ruins would give them some information about what used to be here or how it may relate to the Shadow, but they were old, old and worn down, weathered away by time and the elements if not otherwise covered in leaves and moss.
“Great observation, Captain Obvious,” Legend snarks at Sky, even though he seemed less bothered by the heat than some of them.
They’d been walking for at least a day, and the sun was starting to begin its descent, meaning they would have to find camp soon. They had found a stream to follow for fresh water, and hopefully following it meant they could find civilization again, but there was no road attached, forcing them to carefully trip and stumble their way over rocks and slants in the ground.
“Technically, without a proper destination, we can’t be lost,” Hyrule pipes up, but even though he’s the traveler, the heat seems to be getting to him, too. His normally-upright hair is wilting a little and he's coated in sweat.
A mosquito lands on Time’s neck, and he slaps at it. It won’t help the various bites he’s almost certainly gotten already, but it’s worth a shot. They hadn’t even seen anyone else on the ‘road’ or going by boat, just monsters.
Monsters that, of course, used electric arrows and weapons, making combat much harder than it needed to be. The most annoying were the lizard-like monsters that jumped backwards out of attacks if you were too slow, and were unfairly good at shooting with the bows.
“I wish it was raining,” Wind grumbled, kicking a stray pebble into the stream. “At least then we’d be somewhat cool.”
The rest of the group groans. Time tries not to think about how that would mix with the sheer amount of stray electrical magic running in this place.
“If you’re that hot, jump in the river, Sailor.”
“I can’t swim, Legend.”
He can feel Legend’s incredulous stare even from up in the front. “Wind. You’re telling me that you live on an island, spent your entire adventure on a boat, and have the nickname Sailor… and yet you can’t swim.”
“Well, before my adventure, I didn’t need to go on a boat. After, there was no time to learn.”
Time looks at Twilight. “You’re teaching him how to swim after we make camp tonight.”
“At least the scenery is nice…?” Sky offers, always the peacemaker. “If we are in an in-between era of Hyrule, I’d guess we’d be somewhere around the Faron jungle.”
“Sure, if you don’t mind being eaten alive by a million bugs,” Wars grouses. The mosquitos had been most attracted to him and it showed.
As they round a bend in the river, though, Time perks up a little. “Hey, it looks like it opens up just ahead.”
‘Just ahead’ turns out to be another hour before they make their way into a large, open clearing, wide enough that the tall, leafy branches of the trees don’t entirely encroach upon the sky and they can spread out a bit. Relief washes over him.
However, that relief lasts for all of five seconds before they realize it is a clearing filled with monsters.
“Camp!” Time shouts, drawing his Biggoron sword and slashing at the tall, lanky and lumbering monster headed his way. “Spread out! Twilight, I need you taking care of the archers!”
“On it!”
The group battles like a well-oiled machine, slashing and hacking at the numerous monsters that have made a home here. Time lets all the thoughts of the heat and the humidity and the bugs dip away under the adrenaline of battle, falling into familiar patterns as the Chain battles.
As he lobs off the arm of a small, pig-snouted creature with silver skin, though, he hears someone shout his name. “Time! The water! Move!”
Before he can ask, bright yellow streaks out of the corner of his eye and hits the shallow waters of the bank before him, and then his entire body lights on fire.
Time cries out, electricity seizing his veins and making his grip on his claymore falter as the muscles in his body lock up. He falls to one knee, and it splashes down into the reedy banks.
“Shit!” Someone shouts as he tries to regain his bearings. When he opens his eyes, though, he finds one of the lizard-like creatures already leaping towards him, too fast to dodge.
Time braces himself. They’re fond of spears, so it will certainly hurt, even if it doesn’t kill him. But, just before the hit lands, two arrows streak out of the sky, one after another, striking the monster right in the side of the head.
It crashes against the bank, rolling over, and Time has all of two seconds to be surprised at that before he’s reminded of what situation he’s in. He looks over to the left, expecting to see Twilight, but…
There’s someone else instead.
The black of their clothes stands out against the leafy greens nearby, their upper half visible from behind a large, leafy bush, the glint of a metal bow shining in the evening sun. Too far away to be any of his brothers.
One of the monsters roars, and Time shakes his head. Focus. Fight first, stranger later. He picks up his Biggoron sword even though the electricity is still coursing through his veins.
The last monster has hardly hit the ground before Time is turning, shouting out across the clearing, “Hey!” This causes the rest of the Chain to stop in their tracks, and the person to freeze.
“Time?” Twilight asks, coming up from behind him. “What’s going on?”
“There’s someone over there,” Time says, hosting his sword over his back and watching the stranger. “They were the ones who shot the lizard monster before it skewered me.”
“Oh, thank Hylia, other people,” Warriors sighs from somewhere behind them.
Slowly, Time makes his way over to the stranger, standing closer to the large dragon-headed structure in the back of the clearing. They don’t flee, which is good, but they do stay in a tense, drawn-up stance as Time approaches. A bow sits in their hands, already nocked, though not quite drawn.
Up close, Time can see that it is another Hylian, with scruffy blonde hair pulled up in a bun and startlingly bright blue eyes. He looks Time over with a gaze he can only describe as guarded, flicking over him and then back to the rest of the chain.
“Who are?” The Hylian asks, his voice low and rough, a rasping sound like rocks struck together.
“My name is Time,” he explains. “And these are my brothers.”
One by one, the rest of the Chain introduces themselves. The hunter’s eyes flick between each person as they do so.
“What’s your name?” Time finally asks when the other have answered. “And can you tell us where we’re at? I’m afraid we’re not from around here and we got a little bit turned around.”
That, for some reason, makes the Hylian’s ears pin backwards in a way he’s only ever seen Twilight do when stressed, taking a half step back. “I am well who you think I am. And this mas- mask- farce of me is pointless, Yiga. Insulting, even.”
The tone of voice is dangerous, and he can feel the Chain tensing behind them, but Time pauses and holds a hand out to the side to stop the others.
“Hold on,” he says slowly, injecting all the authority he can muster into his voice. “I think there’s some sort of cultural communication issue. None of us know what Yiga means.”
The Hylian pauses, but doesn’t relax. His eyes--too blue, unnaturally so--seem to pierce right through him as though seeing into his soul.
“You make mockery of Hero intended to provoke,” the Hylian continues, but there’s a hesitation to his voice now that wasn’t there before.
Mockery of Hero? It takes Time a minute to discern what he’s saying by that, glancing backwards at his brothers. All of whom (except Hyrule) have almost the exact same shade blonde hair, same blue eyes, same face shape. Same incarnation of the Hero’s spirit and soul of courage.
Does… he think that we’re trying to mock the hero? He thinks slowly, pursing his lips together.
“We’re not trying to mock anyone. All we’re doing is trying to find civilization.”
Finally, the Hylian straightens up from the half-crouched position he was in before, raising one eyebrow at them. “You… are not with the Yiga?” Time shakes his head, and that seems to be the final nail in the coffin as the Hylian relaxes. “If so… sorry. Still must be careful these days.”
“What’s a Yiga?” Wind asks, finally pushing his way to the front. “Also, hi! I know I said this already but I’m Wind! What’s your name?”
“Yiga are… masters of disguise,” the Hylain said, throwing his bow over his shoulder and putting the arrow back in its quiver. “They imitate Hylians to trick Hero. Very dangerous. Normally found out in the middle of nowhere, on the off chance they find Hero.”
One by one, Time picks out the important parts from that statement. The first of which is that there is a Hero here, wherever (or rather whenever) in Hyrule’s history they are. The second, and perhaps more pressing, is that apparently the Hero has assassins? after him.
“We’re not Yiga,” he assures. “We’re just travelers who have gotten lost.”
“Very,” the Hylian agrees. “You travel far from main road.”
“I hate to impose, but would it be possible for you to lead us the right way, or at least point us in the right direction?”
The Hylian nods. “I lead. Faron jungle confusing and dangerous when unsure where to go.”
Time holds a hand over his heart. “Thank you, for this and for shooting that monster earlier, even if you thought we were a potential danger.”
“Every Hylian looks out for each other,” the hunter replies. “Communities are small, but tight knit.” He looks up to the sky. “Will be dark soon. We stay and leave in morning.”
“That was exactly our plan,” Warriors agrees, stepping forward. It seems that during the conversation, most of the others have petered off to get their injuries checked out by Hyrule. “This is as good a place to rest as any.”
The Chain peters off, some going to Hyrule for injuries and others beginning to set up a camp under the large, dragon-headed statue at the back of the spring. In the back, he noted a fairly-sized statue of Hylia raised on a small alter in the water, worn down by time and the elements.
“Wherer are we at?” Time asks curiously, looking around.
“Lake Dracozu,” the hunter remarks. “Also known as the Spring of Courage.”
Ah, the Spring of Courage. No wonder there was an air of energy here, something he had noticed idly from the minute they walked into the area. Time nods and prepares to get the camp set up.
Despite a few small hiccups caused by Legend and Warriors pushing each other into the spring’s waters, they all manage to get a camp set up, including a fire going when the hunter said it wasn’t predicted to rain, at least for the time being. When asked how he knew that, the hunter just shrugged. “You can tell when jungle grows angry and winds shift.”
“Right, who’s on cooking duty this time?” Warriors asks, hauling a large pot over the campfire.
“I think it’s Four’s turn,” Time notes, nodding towards the smithy, who looks up from polishing his weapon. Which was good, because Four was one of the better cooks in the Chain.
“Oh, thank Hylia,” Sky sighs.
“What do we have to cook with tonight?” Four asks, putting his sword down and meandering over to the center of the circle.
One by one, they unpack their rations and preserved foods, and Four frowns, humming unhappily at the slim pickings as all of them stare.
Sky is the first one to venture an answer. “We could have soup…?”
“We really need to reach civilization,” the smithy says, but before they can reach for any of the ingredients, the Hunter drops down in front of the pot.
“You can’t make anything with that,” he exclaims by way of an answer, gesturing towards the food. “Too many people and too little resources.”
“Well, we haven’t exactly had a chance to stop anywhere and restock,” Legend says back, crossing his arms over his chest.
The Hylian gives them a look. “Why waste rupees on supplies? Can find ingredients in the wild. Only certain ingredients specially bought.”
Definitely a hunter, Time thinks, considering it's been about two hours and the man still hasn't introduced himself to the party. “Unfortunately, we don’t have the luxury of that knowledge. After all, we aren’t from around here.”
The hunter rolls his eyes, reaching for and grabbing a square-like object hanging at his hip with glowing blue runes engraved on it. “It’s basic skill everyone should know. I teach you tomorrow on walk back.”
Only Hyrule seemed excited by that prospect (though Time was curious, if for practical reasons than nothing else) as the hunter tapped the square in his hand. Bright blue lines form in the air, and Time watches curiously as the lines turn into… ingredients? Meat, a few herbs of some kind and some mushrooms.
“Woah!” Four says, immediately taken by the object. “How did you do that?”
“Was that magic?” Legend asks, previous irritation fading into curiosity.
“Sheikah Slate,” the hunter says, catching their attention and confirming the existence of the Sheikah in this era, at least. “It is tech…nology… that Sheikah invented. Stores many useful things.”
“Handy,” Twilight muses from where he’s writing a letter home to Ordon. Many of them nod their heads in agreement, having dealt with limited bag space--even magical ones--throughout their journeys.
Sky, sitting near the hunter, scoots closer, looking as more items come from the Sheikah Slate and pile onto the hunter’s lap. “So you know how to cook?”
“Everyone know how to cook,” the hunter says, as though it was a given. Which it seems like it may very well be. It still sounds vaguely insulting, even if it wasn't meant that way. “Do not last long outside of towns without such skills. Ingredient effects very handy in exploration, combat and hunting.”
They all watch as the hunter--Time really needs to ask their name--prepares a few towels and plates around them, working with a precision he’s only ever seen in Malon and a few of the chefs at Hyrule Castle. The meat and mushrooms are cut into small, bite-sized chunks and steamed in the pan as the rice is fried in a different pan, and that all somehow comes together into small, handheld hunks of fried rice with chunks of mushroom and meat, wrapped together in leaves.
As all of them had been under the well-meaning but shoddily-prepared meals and bland rations for several days, the first bite of what the hunter called ‘meat and mushroom rice balls’ was like heaven.
“You know,” Sky asks between bites, wiping bits of rice off his chin with his napkin, “that you made a delicious meal for us and we don’t even know your name.”
The hunter, who hadn’t yet partaken in eating his own meal despite their best efforts, reaches up and scratches behind his ear. The left one, Time realizes now, is markedly scarred, the tipped point of it missing, and he frowns idly at that. He must have lost it in an attack of some kind.
“...I don’t really have one.”
That gives them pause.
“You don’t?”
“What do you mean you don’t? Everyone has a name,” Wind pipes up, having already inhaled his own rice balls with a viciousness only seen in adolescents getting ready to go through a growth spurt.
The hunter shrugs. “I don’t. Had one, but…” his voice drops to a low mumble. “Wasn’t really… mine. Didn’t want it.”
Oh. Oh, that situation that sometimes certain Hylians were faced with. Time wasn’t familiar with it himself, though he knew the basics. When it came to their nicknames, since they were all named Link, they left that up to the Master Sword.
“So you haven’t chosen one for yourself yet?”
“Mmm… Sometimes people call me Wild.”
Across from Time, Twilight frowns, lowering his own food. “That seems a bit rude.” He, out of everyone, knew best the insults that came from not being ‘normal’.
A shrug. “It fits. Hyrule is wild. And anything beats being Link.”
All of them freeze.
Link? Link, like the Hero Link? Is that what the Hunter--what Wild--just said?
“I’m sorry, did I hear you right?” Sky asks, zoning in on it with a focus that comes from being the original Hero. “Your name is Link? Like, the Hero?”
That makes the hunter’s ears pin back. “I am not Link. Link is dead.”