The Rest Is Silence

Untitled Part 6

As soon as the Hero was out of earshot of the camp, he dropped all sense of stealth and took off into a full sprint.

For someone who was knocked unconscious only a few hours ago, he was fast. His lack of footwear didn't seem to bother him, not even as he ran over small bushes and rough patches of terrain.

Twilight followed, keeping just enough distance not to spook him. The Hero woke up in an unknown camp, surrounded by a group of strangers who took away his weapons. If he was panicked or scared, Twilight didn't blame him.

Eventually the Hero stopped, doubling over on himself in exhaustion.

Twilight considered leaving him be. If he didn't want talk, then he had that right. But head injuries was not something to scoff at. They were silent killers, and if not treated right, the Hero could easily fall into a coma and die.

The Hero straightened, wiping the sweat off his brow, grimacing when his arm came away with dried blood. Hyrule had done his best to minimize the damage, but the group was low on supplies by this point. It made Twilight feel even worse they had to use the majority of their potions on him.

Next to the Hero's exposed feet was an overgrowth of yellow-colored weeds. Though pretty, the plant resembled too much like poison ivy.

Feeling the tickle of the weed against his calf, the Hero looked down. He reached out and grabbed a handful, tearing it out at the root. Before Twilight could warn him of the poison, the Hero stuffed the weed into his mouth.

He chewed. Spat it back out into his palm. He dabbed two fingers into the gross yellow mess, and then gently rubbed it against his forehead.

Fascinating. The weed previously smelled like poison, but after the Hero grinded it down in his mouth, the scent changed from danger to medicinal.

Twilight could've laughed. The Hero was a survivalist. Certainly the others could live off the land if they needed to, however the majority of them were city boys who'd rather spend extra rupees for a soft bed than spend another night outside. And then there was the bitching. Good lord, did some of them bitch.

Twilight was glad to know his successor was like him.

The Hero wandered over to a running stream, going down on his knees and taking a few delicate sips of water. He put one hand on his forehead, another on his stomach. His face screwed up, as if trying not to cry and-

He lurched forward and began vomiting.

Twilight winced. Tough as Hylia's chosen knights were, not even they were immune to the symptoms of concussions. The Hero had nothing to eat or drink in the past couple of hours, and what little he had in his stomach was now splattered across the grass.

There was no way Twilight could leave him like this. That decision made, Twilight walked over to him.

"Hey."

The Hero startled. He twisted around sharply and with a yell, he clumsily threw out a fist, catching Twilight by the jaw.

"Ah-! Mother fucker!"

Confused, the Hero stumbled back, trying to get away, only to step into the stream and slip. His ankle was caught between two rocks, and with one unfortunate turn to the left, snapped it like dry wood.

He didn't scream. He slapped a hand over his mouth, muffling the horrid cry of pain. Still he tried to push himself away.

"Stop!" Twilight commanded. "You're only going to hurt yourself further!"

The Hero did. He slumped back in a exhausted heap, too tired to fight back.

"Goddess. Let's get you out of that stream."

He held out his hand for the Hero to take.

After a moment of hesitation, the Hero took it. With the grunt, Twilight pulled him up and out. They hobbled over to the nearest rock.

The Hero flopped down heavily, breathing hard through his nose. Sweat mingled with the medicine paste on his forehead. Yellow droplets rolled down his cheek, staining his skin.

"What's your name?" Twilight asked as he bent down to look at the Hero's ruined ankle. It was unnecessary question. Every reincarnation had the same name.

The Hero said nothing.

His ankle was already swelling and turning colors. Twilight unwrapped one of the flat leather straps from his wrist guard.

"I'm going to wrap your ankle. I'm sorry, this will hurt."

The Hero bit his wrist in anticipation.

Twilight wrapped as quickly as he could, hearing the agonized muffled groans above him. He could smell the blood rising from the Hero's bitten wrist. His pain stuck to the back of Twilight's throat like syrup. It was nothing compared to the feel of the burn scars beneath his fingers. The skin was leathery, almost no different than the strap he wrapped it in.

Twilight was indifferent to the goddess's plan for them all, but in that moment, he cursed Her. He didn't care what trial the Hero was meant to overcome. This was unnecessary.

"There," Twilight said gently, pulling back. "This should hold you until we get you some better help."

"Link."

Twilight jerked his head up. "What?"

"Link," the Hero said again. He swallowed, his voice rough from disuse. "My name is Link."