Neighboring Lands

Two Can Play At Your Game

I spent the following week at the nearby stables, doing odd jobs here and there to pay for my bed and earn some extra Rupees. Taking out a monster camp here, cleaning the stables there, or foraging and hunting to supply the stable. I've kept to myself for the most part, only speaking when necessary. I've been working on steadying my emotions and building up a wall that might be needed when I return to the Chain.

As the days pass, my stomach becomes more and more knotted, flipping in on itself as I make my way to Kakariko; planning on waiting past the incident point to wait for them. I give the village a wide breath; not wanting any chance of running into them. A large backpack is thrown over my shoulders, containing a simple tent, and a bedroll strapped to the top of it. The air becomes chillier and chillier the further up the path I go; not wanting any trouble, I quickly pass the Lynel, being sure to not even look at it.

This was a trick Wild discovered shortly after awakening to the aftermath of The Calamity. At the time, Lynels gave him a run for his Rupees, and once he met up with the other members of the Chain; and subsequently me, he let us in on this knowledge. Luckily, even this time, it holds true; allowing me to pass by with no issues. As I approach the hidden path, the smell of decay nearly has me kneeling over to expel what little food I had eaten that day. My hand comes up to pinch my nose closed as I blink the stinging feeling from my eyes; the rancid scent causing my eyes to water. I quicken my pace, holding my breath as I jog away from the area; taking experimental breaths until the air is fresh. Once clean oxygen enters my lungs I lean forward, resting my hands on my knees as I gasp for air. My eyes squeeze shut as I pant, greedily taking in the fresh air.

"Oh Goddesses, that was awful," I gag out as I straighten up; brushing imaginary dirt from my hands as I start to walk once more. Up ahead I notice a thick layer of snow, the terrain suddenly changing from green grass to ice-lined paths. Deciding that this is a good place to wait, I set up my tent just off the path, get a small fire going, and roast some apples with honey and butter. I pick at it, enjoying the sweet flavor, yet the heavy feeling in my gut leads to me abandoning it not long after.

My eyes travel to the starry sky over me, tracing imaginary patterns with the twinkling lights. 'I'll accept whatever they decide...but I am also nowhere close to forgiving them.' Standing, I pop my back and neck while I rub my sore shoulders due to the weight of the backpack. "A good night's rest would do me some good," I hum to myself as I crawl into the tent. Once settled into my bedroll I allow my exhaustion to take over, slipping into a deep sleep.

The following morning I make a quick breakfast, clean myself up, and clean up my campsite; packing away the tent and bedroll and my scattered belongings. Once satisfied I settle down against a tree and wait for the Chain as minutes turn to hours. My stomach knots further as I nervously chew on my nails, eyes darting around for any sign of them. Finally, a little past noon, I can hear multiple entities approaching; boots crunching into the dirt path. Much like the loyal puppy Groose once compared me to, I perk up, quickly stumbling to my feet as I take long strides in the direction; stopping shortly after. My hands clasp in front of me, fingers intertwining to squeeze and twist at one another; my tongue darting out to wet my lips as my mouth becomes increasingly dryer by the second.

Time's figure is the first to appear, over the slightly elevated path, causing my heart to beat frantically as the others soon appear. I take a deep breath in, trying to calm myself as I shift from foot to foot. His brows are knitted together, a deep frown on his lips, and his shoulders stiff; and they only stiffen further when he catches sight of me. That look alone feels like the ground under me has fallen, giving away and forcing my body to freefall into an endless pit. My hands grip the end of my tunic tightly, the leather of my gloves screaming at the force; a wall I thought was crumbled long ago seems to shoot up like a weed. The ashes swirl and pack into any crack and hole until only one sliver remains. Light, their light, peeking through to grace my terrified and lonely form; forced from birth to be someone I never was nor could be. Forced to excel myself from anyone who I might form a bond with. The original man who set the groundwork, his family, the kind doctor who treated me like his own daughter, the woman who talked me through my first period and gossiped with me when in town; all long dead leaving the men before me as my only salvation for normality. For friendship. For family. For a life far beyond the palace walls that caged me in, broke my wings, and slammed me down if I ever dared to raise my head a little too high. To be free of the memories of a husband whose hands grew a little too greedy when he drank, who ignored my polite and firm refusals. The man who caged me, to begin with, and the man who always seems to linger in all of my desperate actions to save what little family I grew to have.