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Wind felt guilty when he said he didn't like this Hyrule.
It was beautiful, really! Maybe it paled a little in comparison to the open sees of his own, and it lacked the welcoming aura of his home island, but looking at what they've seen as they've traveled... it really was a beautiful place. And it was large— if it weren't for the fact that Wind was not a liar, he would say he hated it here as much as he hated it at the bottom of the ocean. The roads were long -far longer than anything any of them have had to traverse- and his legs were short. It wasn't exactly adding up to the most fun time, all things considered.
But... it wasn't all that bad, either. It was so alive here! There were bugs he could chase, and fish to catch, and though the roads were empty the rare traveler that passed was always willing to chat. Wind was tired, yes, but he was having fun. One of the few that was, it seemed, between Sky constantly being exhausted from travelling from one place to the next, and Legend's constant frustration in never making any progress good enough for him. Which was fine by Wind, if he was being honest, even if he kind of missed sleeping in a real bed.
For all that Time was calm and collected, the roads seemed to be weighing down on him, too, if only because of the lack of direction they were given. They'd asked for directions, once, but that had been a while ago now, and they were all tired. But there was always something new to see or do — whether that be monsters to slay or mushrooms to pick or pictographs to take — so Wind didn't really mind.
The problem, really, was that this era was filled with ghosts.
It wasn't anything knew. They had all seen some sort of tragedy through their lives. Hyrule's era had them pass by quickly, as if frightened. Sky's era had ghosts so ancient they left him wondering how they hadn't passed on yet. And Warriors' era... the stench of death had yet to leave the fields, still. It had only been a few years since the war, and his Hyrule had proved it. Not a minute went by where Wind wasn't staring at a wisp of a soul now lost.
And here... the fields they passed were littered with ruins. The bridges and the paths, too... none of it had been spared. If it weren't for the man on the bridge, they would have thought this place had been long abandoned. Wind knew better, though. For the spirits on the roads and crowding the ruins spoke more than he could ever really put into words. It made his skin crawl.
The worst part was they never looked at him. Never. Like they were lost, wandering aimlessly, and didn't know how to get back home, or move on. Wind may be co-captain of a pirate crew, but he would be foolish not to admit that it didn't scare him a little bit... not that he was going to.
Nobody knew he could see the dead. It wasn't a scathing secret, but... if Wind could spare them this grief, he would.
Eventually, when even Twilight had started to wear down, they made it to the stable that they had gotten directions for hours ago, and were finally able to sit down.
"Ohmygoddess," Wind groaned. "I'm never walking again."
Warriors grabbed the bag Wind had thrown into the dirt the second he sat down. "Guess I'm taking your bed, then?" He grinned. "If you're so keen on sleeping outside, that is."
Like hell he was.
Wind scrambled after him, and if he had to push past Hyrule and Time to do it, then so be it.
For a kingdom as large as this one, the people of this era were very kind. A little suspicious of them, but kind, nonetheless. The man at the counter gave them a discount after Time asked to buy all of their remaining beds. There weren't enough for the lot of them, but Wind didn't mind doubling down with someone. Sky didn't kick, at least. Unlike some of them.
Wind crossed his fingers, hoping he wouldn't have to bunk with Legend. Snoring be damned.
Even after a festive dinner, where Time cooked for them a dinner suspiciously good and well practiced (Wind narrowed his eyes when Warriors joked about a lady at home and Time only smiled), and being able to retreat to a warm, safe bed for a good nights rest... Wind could not sleep.
Throughout their stay, every time he was outside and in view of the field behind the massive tent, Wind's eyes drifted towards the blue wisp at the center of the plains. It never moved, and if his eyes weren't playing tricks on him, it always kept its gaze ahead, as if watching. And every time Wind glanced its way, it sent shivers up his spine.
"Somethin' up, sailor?" Hyrule asked, giving him a curious smile.
Wind shook his head, smiling back. "Nah." And just in case- "Hey, d'you think the vet still has those candies in his bag-?"
And even after being chased around the stable by a vengeful Legend, Wind still felt uneasy. Whatever was in that field was calling to him.
Which is how he found himself cautiously stalking away from the inn in the dead of night, the light of the moon being the only thing to guide him. Well, that and the blue-haze of the ghost in the center of this field. Like a lighthouse in a storm, it never wavered. Wind stepped over and around the mechanical pots that littered the field, choosing instead to have his boots sink happily into the field's many puddles. It was smart of him to have taken off his socks— could you imagine walking through the field with soggy boots and soggy socks?
Wind was all too happy to explore on his own- it was no ocean, but the water was a comfort, too -but that feeling came to a halt as he neared his target. The flowers at his feet twisted to accompany him, shifting as he came to a stop in front of one of the large overturned pots. What had they been called...
Guardians, the stableman had said. They were menacing even while deactivated and destroyed, and this field was filled with them. Their very presence felt unholy and corrupt, as though they would wake up at any moment. A dead, mechanical army, with a lone knight at its center.
In the darkness of the night, Wind's only company was the shade that stared directly at him. Or through him, maybe. The spirits in this era were so lost to time that they often didn't see him as they saw them. Wind's eyes were keen. He was gifted with the sight that allowed him to see through this world and into the next. He could even listen to them, if the world was quiet enough. This one, though...
Well, when Wind looked, this one looked back.
Its eyes were a brilliant, piercing blue, somehow standing out even despite the ethereal glow of the ghost's spirit. The ghost had kept its gaze on Wind as he had approached, not looking away even as he stopped at the bottom of the Guardian it chose as its resting spot. Its posture was calm and carefree for something that had long since died.
Wind could tell it was long dead, from the way its figure went transparent at the edges. Though still bright, the teal flames that accompanied it looked withered away, and its soul felt long, long gone. Kind of like everything else in this era.
"You can see me," it said, it's voice tilting off into something that sounded more like amusement than curiosity. Wind blinked.
"And you can see me."
The ghost tilted its head. "Isn't it normal for the dead to be doing the seeing?"
"...maybe others. But everyone here is so lost. It's like they don't even know that they're here." Wind looked up, then, frowning. "But you do."
It didn't say anything at that, just continued looking, as if its gaze went straight through him. It was like the ghost wasn't seeing anything at all. But its gaze followed Wind with every twitch and every rock he kicked. It was so weird.
Looking at it, now, Wind could see its features well. He could trace the dark spots littering its torn tunic all the way to its boots and its neck, where scars were scattered over its skin, as if it had already healed from what killed it. There was dirt caked into its hair, too, which was pulled back into a short ponytail. Even then, it was still the eyes that caught Wind's attention. They looked like a beasts.
This was like no ghost Wind had ever seen before. It was more than weird. The last time he had seen a ghost that had stood out so much was with-
"Who are you?" Wind asked, mustering up as much intimidation as he could. "Why are you so different?"
It's gaze fell, then. There was the barest hints of a smile on its face, but it felt more self-deprecating than anything else. Like it was laughing at an inside joke Wind wasn't privy to. Before Wind could say anything, or backtrack because of the sinking guilt in his gut, the ghost looked at its empty, bloodstained palms and spoke.
"I don't know." It said. "I haven't been anybody in a long time. I'm not sure it matters anymore."
Oh.
Wind paused. He'd opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. What could he really say to that? It wasn't like he'd talked to many ghosts that were so... passive. So mournful.
"How... how long?" He was almost scared to ask.
The ghost hummed. "Hm... a hundred years or so? I'm not sure."
Holy shit.
"A hundred?" He gasped, wincing when his voice got louder than he intended. He looked around wildly, before whispering, a little sadly, "and you haven't moved on?"
Wind couldn't even wrap his head around it. One hundred years. Nearly two lifetimes, alone, standing vigil in an empty field. He couldn't even think of mourning his own life for a single week, let alone hundreds of them. How much grief could someone carry to wait a hundred years to move on? To wait longer?
The ghost frowned, leaning forward to rest its head in its hands. "No, I haven't. I'm not sure why. I think I'm the only one." Then, it sent Wind a steady smile. "Sure does get boring around here."
Of course it did. The light joke cooled some of his nerves, though. Like an old joke between friends. But Wind couldn't help but think...
One hundred years. That rang a few bells.
The people at the stable had talked over the fire a ghost story from long ago— the Calamity that had destroyed their kingdom nearly a hundred years before. It was whispered in the same breath that the guardians had been spoken of in, as though just the mention of it would send them to an early grave. Much like this knight, Wind guessed. But it wasn't as if he could just say that. Disrupting spirits was dangerous.
Even then... Wind couldn't help but feel sad. Grief pulled at him, leaving his heart aching and a lump in his throat. The people who are alive now definitely don't remember it, and yet— how could someone let their spirit waste away for so long? How many days had it spent aching for company, or to move on, or for anything?
Before Wind could even open his mouth to speak, a twig behind him snapped. He whipped around and drew his sword faster than he had in ages, staring with wide eyes at the creature that stared back at him. He only found bright blue eyes, though, seemingly glowing in the dark. It was a bright contrast to the dark fur surrounding them, and the strange markings that littered his face.
Wolfie only blinked, calmly sitting back on his heels. Wind sighed, shaking his head. Only a wolf. Their wolf, really. Much better of an outcome than any loose lizalfos. This era was filled with them, which he did not need a reminder of.
As Wind knelt down to Wolfie's height, he realized the wolf wasn't looking at him at all. His eyes were trained straight onto the ghost in front of them, who stared back with an unblinking gaze. Something strangely soft was written on its face.
"Wolfie? Can you see- him too?" Wind asked. He gave a faint nod, to the ghost's amusement. Wind could understand— it was kind of weird to see a wolf understand and react to hylian speech like he was included in the conversation. He could find some comfort in that, in the familiarity.
Wind put his hand on Wolfie's neck, leaning over just a little. Strangely enough, the wolf didn't move, and instead kept his eyes ahead. So he took that as invitation to lean over more, putting most of his weight into the wolf's side. Exhaustion pulled at his eyelids, but Wind couldn't go back now. He couldn't. He... he had to help this spirit. He had to.
Wolfie huffed, then, poking at Wind's face with his nose like the gross little dog he was. Scrunching his nose, Wind pushed Wolfie's face away, muffling his own laughter. The ghost laughed then, too, giving Wind a sudden burst of courage.
He looked up, studying the ghost's face. His hair was pale, falling into a short ponytail. What Wind could only guess as blood and dirt caked his hair and his face and even his clothes, from head to toe. Like he had gone to war before he had died. Which- well. It wasn't unlikely, giving what the stable hands had told them of the Calamity and all.
It was almost strange. He looked a lot like Twilight, if the light hit him right.
"Do you have a name? Wind asked.
The ghost smiled bitterly. He didn't move from his seat, but he bent over in a dramatic bow. "Link, knight of Hyrule, at your service."
Wind's breath nearly stopped. Eyes wide, he shakily looked up, meeting the gaze of the spirit- of Link.
Oh goddess. He really did die. The hero of this era is dead. This era had fallen into ruins and disarray. The hero is dead, and there is nobody left to take his place.
Time had- Time had said, once, earlier that day, to not lose hope. The very existence of a hero at all meant something, he said. Even if he did not have hope in the Goddess, he had hope in her people, and they would survive. If no chosen arrived at the appointed hour, then someone would take matters into his own hands. Just like Four did. Just like Legend did. Just like Wind did. And they would welcome him with open arms, too.
And the grief then had been enough— how couldn't it be, learning that one of them had died before their time? Before they could even meet, or come to the rescue? Just the thought of it being Sky or Warriors... of it being him... but now... seeing it for his own eyes... he didn't know what to do. They had come too late. There was nothing left to save.
It was Wolfie's whine that shook him from his thoughts. The wolf had a scarily human look on its face— how could a dog have so much worry, so much grief, in its eyes?
His heart felt heavy. It must have shown on his face, too, because Link laughed something empty. "Yes, tis I, the Hylian Champion, and Hylia's chosen hero." He scoffed. "For whatever that's worth..."
It was worth something, he wanted to say. You did not die for nothing. But his voice felt weak, and he didn't trust himself to speak.
Wind couldn't help himself. He stared, feeling a little faint. It must have been too much, though, because Link shifted, averting his eyes. So Wind pried his eyes away, swallowing the lump in his throat.
"Then..." he started, "you really did..."
The rest of that sentence went unsaid.
His heart felt heavy in his chest. The hero died. 'On his way to Fort Hateno,' the stable hands said. Which was... right...
Wind jumped to his feet, stumbling as he went. His legs slipped as he turned, held steady only when Wolfie pushed his weight into the back of Wind's weak legs. Oh, goddesses, he felt sick. He trembled as he turned, taking in the field like it was the first time he had seen it. And maybe it was. Before, he had taken it for what it was, a field with overgrown flowers and weeds, filled with deep puddles and broken down machinery. But now. Now. Wind saw it for what it was.
Rusted blades littered the grass. The most notable Guardians had fallen overtop of each other, covered in moss and rust but no wounds. But there were others with their legs torn off, sword slashes that left deep scars, healed over with little bits of new and sudden plant life. And in the middle of it all was an empty patch of dirt, covered in white and blue flowers, the stone ruins around it stained with burn marks, as if something had set them ablaze.
"This is-" he gasped, "you-"
Maybe he looked as terrified as he felt, because Link took pity on him. His face softened, and his voice was gentle as he spoke. "I died here, yes."
This was his grave.
Din... his hands would not stop shaking. This was too much.
But it wasn't. The voice in his head told him to be rational, to be stronger than this. Wind has seen many ghosts. He has walked through many of their graves, hand in hand with the spirit themselves. It was no different this time. Even if it was.
The hero died, and this world was left to ruin. The thought alone made his eyes burn.
"Didn't she try to save you?" Wind asked, his voice cracking. "You shouldn't have- this- it's not fair."
Link sighed. "I've asked myself the same question. I've certainly had the time. But I don't think there's really an answer for that. Not that you'll get from me, anyway."
The hell did that mean?
The sudden anger bubbling up in his gut felt dirty.
Shouldn't he be angry? Shouldn't he be more than- more than this?
It wasn't fair. It wasn't. He kept thinking it, over and over, but it was true. The hero didn't die at the end of the story. The dragon wasn't supposed to win. The princess was meant to be saved. They were meant to get their happy ending. So why- why-
Wind whipped his head up, something angry in his eyes. Something lost. And Link only watched.
"You died!" Wind yelled. "Don't you feel anything for it? Aren't- aren't you-"
"Aren't I what?" Link asked, somewhat irritated.
Wind grasped for air. "Angry? Sad? I don't know! You- you just-"
The way the ghost was looking at him was too much. Wind turned, digging his hands into his hair and pulling. He stomped his feet as he paced, letting his boots sink into the mud. From the corner of his eye, he saw Wolfie flinch at the muddy splatters that made their way towards his coat. Some part of Wind felt glad at that, and then angry at himself.
None of it made any sense to him. Not- not logically. He understood that much. But to just let it all happen—
Wind stopped, letting his hands fall. That wasn't fair, he thought. He wasn't being fair again. And yet...
He kicked at the dirt beneath him, watching a loose stone fly across the field. Link hadn't let any of it happen— he had heard the stories. The people here did not curse his name for his failure, or leave him to be forgotten. They thanked him. Some of them still prayed. He had fought an army for them, alone, and they had remembered him, and kept him in their thoughts.
"I just don't get it," Wind whispered. "She failed you. Don't you think that's unfair?"
"It happened a long time ago, kid." Link said. Wind couldn't see his face, but he could almost hear the grief in his voice. "I was angry for a long, long time. I still might be. But more than that..."
There was a sigh. Wind peaked over his shoulder, turning just enough to see Link looking up at the sky. Wind followed his gaze, listening to Link take a deep breath.
The sun was starting to make its way over the horizon. The mountain peaks and the cliffs kept him from seeing the first sunrise, but it's light was unmistakable. With the first light of the morning and the last faint marks of the stars, it almost reminded him of home. And yet it was far too still.
"I think I'm at peace," Link said. "From here, I stand vigil, and watch over the people still left. I may have failed to save them, but they have done just fine in saving themselves."
Wind swallowed, willing his hands to stop trembling. He looked back, where he found Link's gaze on him once more.
The sun was rising. Wolfie was shifting where he sat, eyes glancing between the stable and Link. The hesitation in the wolf's eyes was something Wind was almost shocked to see. But he felt the same. Wind didn't want to leave. Not like this. Even if it was time for them to go, he...
Link tilted his head, staring at Wind intently. He stared back, biting at his cheek.
Wind couldn't just leave him.
Catching Wolfie's eye, it looked like he felt the same. But what could they do? Link was already...
"You know, it's strange," Link said, pausing.
Huh. Wind frowned. "What is?"
For the first time that night, Link hopped down from his perch atop the Guardian. "I don't know why I'm still here," he said, walking towards Wind. He stopped, just long enough to crouch down, and tilted his head at the two of them. "But I think it has something to do with you."
Wind thought back to earlier that night, when he had thought the spirit in the field was calling to him. Like some sort of fated meeting, or someone shouting out for help. It reminded him of how he always found himself sailing back towards where Hyrule castle lay at rest, even if there was nothing there. And he understood.
"You're dead," Wind whispered.
Link laughed, then, as if it were a joke they'd made before. "Yeah, I am."
"And I can't help you." His voice broke as he spoke, but he ignored it the best he could.
"No, you can't."
"But you think this was meant to happen? That we were meant to meet?"
"I do," Link said.
That brought a strange comfort to him. Not that Wind knew why. Maybe the idea that this wasn't all meaningless gave him the tiniest bit of hope...
Wolfie whined again, standing, and Wind watched him take strangely hesitant steps for an animal. It was like he was walking for the first time, unsure of where to step, but he made his way towards Link anyway. And the ghost only smiled, reaching out a hand before letting his arm fall, as if he had forgotten he wasn't dead. Link's smile wavered at that. Not that it mattered. Wolfie forced his way forward again, moving to nuzzle Link's cheek. Wind watched with wide eyes as the wolf touched Link, as though solid.
"Oh... hello there," Link said, blinking rapidly. "I didn't think..."
With a huff, Wolfie backed off, sitting on his heels once more. Wind almost laughed. Wolfie hated being treated like a dog, and yet... he allowed it, just this once. Link didn't even seem to mind. Instead he stood, giving them both a watery smile. He opened his mouth to speak, but—
Wind stopped, unable to move his eyes away from Link.
As the first light of the morning started to reach them, he had looked down at his hands, tilting his head as the color of his spirit started to shift. As if he was...
"No!" Wind jumped forward, digging his feet into the mud. Link wasn't the least bit surprised, only looking up numbly. "You're disappearing!"
"This is... the first time..." Link furrowed his eyebrows, looking down once more. It was slowly becoming easier and easier to see through him, as his spirit was being whisked away.
The realization hit Wind suddenly, like a club, it knocked the air out of his lungs. "You're moving on."
"I guess I am."
Wind didn't know what to do. Oh, goddess. What could he do? He couldn't take this away from Link— he couldn't. To spend a hundred years waiting for this moment was torture enough. If anything, Wind should be honored to be there to witness it. To send him off with a smile and a farewell. But his stomach churned at the thought. He felt sick.
He only watched as Link slowly disappeared. The wind picked up around them, as if to carry his spirit somewhere new. And in the light of the new morning, the ghost himself stared at his palms with some sort of wonder, or surprise, as if he couldn't fathom that this was really happening.
"The world is full of surprises, isn't it?" Link whispered, almost to himself. Then he looked up and met Wind's eyes for the last time. "Thanks for spending a few hours with this old ghost, kid. It made my afterlife."
Wind felt the tears before they started falling. "Really? That's all you've got?"
"Just thought it'd lift your spirits."
"Stop."
"Fine, fine," Link said. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Wind stopped him, almost urgently.
"We'll see each other again," he said. He promised. And for some reason, he felt it to be true. He hoped it was, and not just grief pulling away at his heart.
Link smiled softly. "Take your time, kid. You've got places to be. And you'll do greater than I ever did."
Wind reached out just as Link's spirit had shined its brightest, disappearing into bright blue smoke. It seemed to sparkle in the morning light, rising into the sky and disappearing altogether. Like there was somewhere it needed to be. Maybe if the world was kinder, that would be the case.
But it wasn't, he thought bitterly. Because if the world was kinder, the hero would not have died, and Wind wouldn't be a lost boy left alone in a field he didn't know with only his grief and a lone wolf to give him company.
The hero was gone. He had lived, and breathed, and died, and waited, and now he was gone. What was Wind supposed to do with that? What was he supposed to even feel?
There was no one left to mourn, and yet he stared ahead, silent. Each breath he took rattled in his lungs, but his gaze didn't waver. Even as Wolfie stuck his nose into Wind's palm and whined. He needed the minute, anyways. Just one.
When the morning light got high enough to warm his skin, Wind blinked, and turned away. He clenched and unclenched his fists the entire walk back to the stable. Wolfie followed him the whole way, a silent but steady comfort.
He would not cry. He wouldn't. There was no one there to mourn, and nobody who remembered to care. This was Wind's little secret now, even if it weighed down on him like a lynel's punch. A hundred years worth of grief was not easy to carry, but he could bear the weight. He would.
The morning light hitting the water couldn't feel less comforting than it did right then.
As Wind neared the front of the tent, he could hear his brothers voices drift his way.
"...lready sent Twilight after him. I'm sure he hasn't gotten far." Time's voice was easy to distinguish amongst the sudden sounds of the morning rush.
Someone huffed. Sounded like Legend. "We don't know how long he's been gone. If we don't find him--"
Wind scuffed his feet, gripping at his arm tighter than he needed to. "I'm right here. Stop worrying so much."
He didn't look up as his brothers turned his way, rushing over. Distantly, he could hear them admonishing him, and it was all the usual— the 'are you crazy's and the 'don't ever do that again's and the 'you're grounded's. He knew they checked him over for injuries, knew they asked him if he was okay. But he didn't hear it. Not really. He kept his eyes on the ground, dazed, nodding along like he was paying them any mind. Because, obviously, he wasn't. Did it even matter?
And then Wolfie nudged his palm again and, like a jolt of electricity shot through him, Wind jumped, finally raising his head.
"-eriously going to start putting him on a leash," Legend growled, stomping away. Hyrule sighed, chasing after him. One by one, Wind watched the group disperse, but he barely registered it. It felt more like he was watching this happen from a distance, behind a glass wall. He blinked.
"Still, try to keep the midnight escapades to a minimum, sailor." Time said. "Wolfie, would you go find Twilight?"
When the wolf scampered off, Wind saw Four roll his eyes, as though unamused. Weird. Whatever. Didn't matter.
"I'm glad you're all right," Sky said, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.
Wind bite his cheek, shrugging him off. "Right. Thanks."
He didn't see Sky's smile waver, or any of the other Links around him exchange a glance. He didn't pay them any mind. Instead, Wind half heartedly scuffed his boots on the mat in front of the stable's doors. The very least he could do was to make sure he didn't track mud into their rugs. They had been too nice for even him to ruin that. For what little worth it had.
As he started kicking around a dried clump of mud, Warriors nudged his side. "Hey. Your little adventure not turn out okay?"
The air felt thick. Or maybe it was just his throat, his lungs. "Screw off."
"That bad?" Warriors joked. But he sobered up quickly. "Seriously. Are you okay?"
"I said screw off." He hissed. Wind rubbed at his nose, clenching his empty fist, focusing on the way his nails dug into his open palms. Calm down. He needed to calm down. But the anger felt so good.
He was being an ass. There was no other way to describe it. He shunned off Sky for Nayru's sake. There was almost never any heat between them, Sky hadn't done anything wrong, and yet—
Wind sniffed, swallowing the lump in his throat. Funny. There must be something in his eyes, because they burned something fierce.
"C'mon, sailor," Warriors sighed. He set his hands gently on each of Wind's shoulders. "You can talk to me."
That made his hands ball into fists. He couldn't help but have his gaze wander back towards the field, where Link had been just a little while ago. But it was empty. A very stark contrast to how the steady blue wisps had been a constant sight in the days they had spent here. It almost looked peaceful.
The sight only made Wind's eyes burn more, so he held his breath, looking away. And when he caught Warriors' soft gaze, he didn't know what to do. What could he even say? The hero of this era is long dead. Wind having met him once before he passed on means little. If he couldn't shoulder this, how could he call himself a hero?
"It's nothing," he said, sniffing again, rubbing at the wetness on his cheeks. "I'm fine. Everything is fine."
"It doesn't sound fine, Wind." And Warriors' stupid matter-of-fact talk was less than wanted right now. He knew it wasn't fine. But maybe, if he pretended...
"I'm fine." He did not sob. He did not cry. He was better than that.
There was another sigh, but it was not unkind. "All right." Warriors squeezed his shoulder. "Why don't you go pack up? We'll be leaving in a few hours."
An exit. Finally. Wind nodded hurriedly, pushing past Warriors and rushing towards where his pack lay. He scrubbed at his eyes, willing his shoulders to stop shaking, because he was fine. He was fine! They didn't need to see this. Just because he was the youngest of the group doesn't mean he had to be a crybaby. Because that's what this felt like.
Hee knew more than anyone it was okay to process grief. He did it on a day to day basis. It was hard not to, when you could see the dead. But he hadn't even known Link a few hours, and his heart ached. He felt like something had been ripped apart from him. And maybe it had. But it did not warrant this. It didn't.
...he had looked so peaceful. Is that how Wind would look when he died? Would he just be okay with it? After all that... after everything...
Wind took a deep breath. Once, and then again. He forced his legs to move, where he could mechanically pick up his hair brush and stuff it into his bag. And he would do the same with his pajamas, and his toothbrush, and everything else he owned, until his eyes were scrubbed raw and his hiccups finally stopped.
When Wind finished packing his things, he made his way towards the cooking pot, where everyone else had gathered. The sympathetic looks from the stable hands did not go unnoticed, but he did not give them the time of day. He couldn't. Even Hyrule and Sky turned to great him, giving him small smiles as he passed. He tried not to shrug them off at least, but it was a near thing.
He didn't get very far until someone stopped him. Twilight looked like he had- well. Like he had just seen a ghost, staring at Wind a little nervously.
"Uh, hey, sailor," Twilight rubbed the back of his neck. "How ya feelin'?"
Wind shrugged, kicking at the dirt. He was getting tired of people asking him that.
"Right... uh-"
Legend groaned. "For Farore's sake." He got up and pushed on Wind's shoulders, steering him towards the cooking pot even as he dug his boots into the ground and barred his teeth. And when Legend finally stopped tormenting him, to top it all off, Wind nearly fell face first into the- huh? "Twi made you breakfast. Stop moping and eat."
Oh. Wind blinked, looking at Twilight, then the cooking pot, and then Twilight again. He only shrugged, turning to prepare a bowl for him. He acted nonchalant about it, but there was a rise in Twilight's shoulders he only ever had when he was upset. Or concerned. Or both. Nobody could ever tell with him.
But he appreciated it anyway. It was enough for Wind to take a breath, blinking away the burn in his eyes yet again. He set down his bag and went to help Twilight with the servings, rolling up his sleeves and all.
They did not speak. It was quiet around them, the only noise coming from the horses and them scraping their bowls and the stable hands as they worked. It was enough to calm his nerves, at least. It was easier to breathe.
They did not look at each other, either. And his heart was still heavy. But Wind sat down anyway, squished between Legend and Twilight, and stared into his bowl of eggs and rice. Simple, yet it warmed his hands all the same. If only Link was here to feel it too.
Wind's throat felt tight. Like he was going to start crying all over again.
"Thanks," he whispered. It was all he could say.
It was enough. Twilight nudged his shoulder softly, and his voice was as heavy as Wind's had sounded. "Eat up. We still have to keep going."
They did. And it felt like he said that in reference to a lot more than just walking. But Wind nodded anyway, and started shoveling down his breakfast, like all was normal. And when Legend laughed at him for choking, and Four snuck his tomatoes into Times bowl just to get him to spit them out in disgust, the weight lifted off his shoulders just a little bit more.