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Link startled awake at the crack of thunder.
A storm was raging beyond the mouth of the cave.
The wind howled and the rain poured over their rock roof like a thousand pebbles, the thunder in the distance the rumble of boulders. In the few beats of silence, there was a dripping sound somewhere in the back of the cave; rain drops trickling in through gaps in the limestone. There was chatter as someone—several someones—tried speaking between cracks of thunder, but for the most part, the storm commanded their silence.
Link shivered beneath a blanket, arms huddled in close to this chest. No fire could be laid in these conditions so it seems they’d made do with the glow of luminous stones, diffused teal light softening the shadows. The cold was seeping in with every minute he lay still, but moving hurt too. His limbs were sore, muscles threatening to cramp if he made to stretch.
He was half sure he was dreaming. His head ached, heavy like an overstuffed turkey. The green glow did not help. Hylian faces looked alien in this light, escaping the grasp of familiarity. Link watched them for a moment longer, hoping the old man would be there among them. Then, self-pitying in his failure to find him, he let his head loll back against the pillow with a groan.
The pillow that shifted beneath him, to his mild alarm. A rumble of laughter met his ears, vibrating against his skin.
“Had a good nap?” came the old man’s voice, soft and amused.
Oh. There he was.
Link braved pushing an arm out of his warm cocoon and smeared knuckles across his bleary eyes until a few silhouettes finally came into focus. Some of them were huddled a foot away in the centre of the cave, whispering to each other or doing chores. A taller knight stood at the cave’s mouth, staring out into the gloom and watching the rainfall. Someone was strumming an instrument, low echoing voice dipping in and out of his hearing. The entire scene appeared lop-sided from how he leaned.
Link startled as his pillow moved again.
“Kid?”
“Mmm,” he croaked, then coughed, in belated answer. His cheek was squished against what he now recognised as the old man’s arm. Pa radiated concentrated heat like a small sun and Link felt no inclination to move away. A hand pressed against his sweaty forehead and he leaned into it, sighing. The support was short-lived though, abandoning him to feel against his throat instead, as though to seek out his temperature.
“Am I sick?” Link mumbled, frowning as the hand moved away completely.
“Feverish, yes. You don’t remember?”
Link shrugged, eyes slipping shut as he curled further into the warmth. The cave kept most of the wind out, but a chill had still permeated deep into his bones. He sniffled, then rubbed the back of his sleeve under his nose.
“Dunno. Too tired to think…”
“That’s alright. Are you hungry? We can’t cook anything in here, but we’ve got rations.”
Link considered it for all of a second, which was long enough for his stomach to lurch at the idea of food. He was very much not hungry. Pa would never accept that excuse, always trying to feed him broths and warm foods and anything else he could stomach when he was sick. Still, it was worth a try.
“…don’t want anything. Not hungry.”
“Well, even so. Your body needs the energy,” came the wheedling response, as expected.
“Nooooo. I don’t wanna…”
“Just a few bites. And some water. Come on, we need to get something in you.”
Link heaved a longer sigh, hoping it would speak for him. He got nothing but an expectant silence.
“…Okay, fine.”
He got an approving pat to the knee, and sagged harder against the old man’s arm in indignation. All it evoked was another chuckle. Link craned his neck to pout up at him, then froze.
Chin-length hair, a widow’s peak, and a long, prominent nose. An odd symbol inked into his forehead. Even in the dim light, the lines on the old man’s face stood out, twin wounds carved carefully in alignment beneath his right eye. His right eye…
“…What happened to your—”
A sudden laugh and rise in volume had him turning. Towards the centre of the cave, several bodies piled atop each other, scrambling for something one of them held out of reach. Link still couldn’t make out any of their faces in the strange light and shadow. They looked like they were having fun though.
One of them, short and spry, sprang forward and snatched the item being fought over, breaking into a run with a cackle. The group left behind was surprisingly quick to untangle and rally behind the runner, yelling all manners of joking threats. Suddenly the cave was noisier than the storm, jeers and laughter echoing off the walls. The strummer, who had been abandoned to his own corner, fumbled a few strings, then switched to a fast-paced ditty to match their pace.
Link inhaled and pulled his legs in towards himself as the rag-tag team came dangerously close to where he rested. But the one in the lead turned directions abruptly and dove through the taller knight’s legs, prompting a yelp from him. Link laughed despite himself, then coughed, clearing away the tiny itch in his throat. He’d finally caught the runner’s features in the luminous stones’ light; round face, tufts of pale hair and a wide, mischievous grin. As fast as the wind, and just as unpredictable. The others stood no chance.
Another man wearing a pelt pounced with a triumphant cry, only to flounder as he was neatly dodged. His momentum had him toppling over one of the other pursuers instead, who wheezed and howled in outrage. It had Link clutching his ribs, giggling until he was breathless.
Normally he’d like to be part of the fun too, but the mere labour of pulling his legs up told him just how awful that idea was. All he could do was watch and call out encouragement as the older boys fruitlessly gave chase.
The old man seemed to find it just as amusing to watch, and began to commentate as though it were a proper competitive event.
“—goes vaulting right over the traveller, aaaaand safe, our little imp successfully touches down with the stolen loot—”
Link laughed a little too hard—and all at once, the mild itch that had been building up again exploded into something fiery. He jerked upright and began to cough hard into his hands, over and over with no reprieve. It was the dry, unfulfilling kind. The kind that made him gasp for air in between, but made no difference in calming the prickle inside his throat.
He curled involuntarily into himself, his lungs burning until one particularly painful cough ripped through him. Tears slipped from his eyes and he whimpered in relief when the bout finally came to an end. He held himself still, fearing movement might trigger another attack. Slowly, he came back to his senses, to the sensation of Pa rubbing his back.
“Easy now. You’re alright. Here, have some water—”
He tipped his head back and drank obediently when the waterskin was pressed to his lips. The water tasted of lukewarm leather, but it still parched his dry throat and soothed the irritation. He drank some more, wishing it could simply wash away his illness.
“Is he alright?” Someone called out and Link realised the group had stopped their play-fighting in concern for him. The man in the pelt had come closer, watching him with piercing eyes. Link flushed and looked away, huddling closer to Pa. He didn’t pay attention to the conversation overhead, focusing on calming his own slightly-ragged breathing.
Outside, the storm had eased up somewhat, the gap between lightning strikes lengthening. Someone was saying something about wild elixirs, which made no sense at at all. Perhaps he was more sick than he’d realised.
He hadn’t felt it before but the coughing bout had ignited a deep exhaustion and all kinds of aches and pains in his body. He was unwell, and it was probably building up to be spectacularly terrible. Which meant—
“Keep ‘ryll away…”
“What’s that, kid?” Pa asked distractedly.
Link sighed and let his body list harder into his father’s, unable to hold himself up anymore.
“Aryll,” he mumbled. “Tell her to keep away. She always gets sick easy.”
Aryll was a terrible patient, and more importantly, prone to long bouts of flu. The last thing they needed was for both of them to be ill. Besides, she’d been having so much fun evading her so-called pursuers. Link didn’t want to see her bed-ridden any more than he wanted to be the one sick. The farther she was from him, the better. Just until he wasn’t sick anymore.
“Right. Of course. We…wouldn’t want that.”
Link hummed, ready to drop back into a doze where he didn’t have to be aware of his foggy head and watering eyes and stuffy nose. A hand against his forehead again made that a little difficult.
“Whaaaat?” he whined.
“Just checking your temperature again. Your skin’s scalding hot, kid.”
Link almost snorted, then thought better of it, sniffling primly.
“Lightning’s worse…”
“…I almost don’t even want to address that.”
Neither did Link, in all honesty. It was one of the more stressful of his new memories.
In the unfamiliarity of his first thunderstorm, he’d found a raw beauty in witnessing grey clouds festooned with thin ribbons of lightning. The rumbles and flashes of blinding white had raised goosebumps along his skin, but nothing had managed to curb his awe. At least, not until the danger had brushed too close for comfort.
The weapons in a nearby monster camp he’d been watching had started to spark, glowing yellow-white. The monsters had cried out, throwing them down in a panic. Then, with a crackling BOOM, a streak of light had arced down from the skies and struck a Moblin before it could rush to safety.
Heart pounding, ears aching, Link had rubbed away the spots in his vision to find the Moblin singed and dying in a patch of blackened grass. He had felt the heat of it, even from that distance.
He’d learned very quickly after that.
Steel was a no-go, whether it was his weapons or his armour. Trees were fine in light rain, but splintered and caught fire beneath lightning. Water bodies were to be avoided; under no circumstances could he wait out the storms beneath the surface. An animal fear kept him watching the clouds, cringing at every flash of light. An old human instinct had him searching out and hiding beneath any alcove possible.
Caves had become his most important finds. When it stormed, when he fell ill, when he needed to lay down for a night without stumbling from exhaustion the next day, they were his saving grace.
From a cave he had emerged, and to caves he returned when the world raged too loud for his comfort.
The arm bracing him now was no rock wall, but it felt just as sturdy. The storm could not reach him here, though he shivered like he was drenched, and burned like he’d been struck. Pa’s embrace was safe, and so he allowed himself to fall lax. No more running in search for…something. Just this. His family, and the knights, and himself, as it had been years back.
Even if none of it was true. Even if they’d been dead for a hundred years and the warmth beneath him was nothing but his bedroll, the people around him mere shades and spectres of those he no longer truly remembered. Even if the fever burned him dry…at least he was allowed the comfort of this memory. Tomorrow, he would wake up to an empty cave. It was nice to pretend this was real, just for a little while.
He clumsily reached out and patted the hand that was still fluttering over him, forcing it to rest against his cheek.
“’s alright Pa…I found places like this one…to hide in. Useful when I’m sick too…”
Pa inhaled sharply, like he’d forgotten to breath for a moment. His hand was heavy and calloused, lined with old scars. But the thumb that stroked over his cheekbone then was devastatingly tender. It drew a direct line over his heart, stoking a strange ache to life.
There was a long silence before Pa spoke again.
“It must have been lonely.”
Link yawned wide, then smiled, though it was half-hidden against the old man’s rough-spun tunic.
“For a little while…met a lot of good friends though. People I can call family…”
“…I see.”
His hair was brushed back from his face and tucked gently behind his ear. The blanket was pulled up to his chin. Pa pulled him close, his breath wafting steadily across Link’s temple.
“Then I’m glad for that. Rest up, Wil—Link. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
Link didn’t respond, already slipping away into a deep sleep.
Outside, the rain had petered out into a light drizzle. Sun rays emerged and split the haze.
Eight brothers watched over their ninth and Wild slept peacefully.