World Tree MUSH

  After the battle, the party had struck camp on the third floor of the ruins, more or less where half the party had dropped. There's still a hole in the roof, but it's much better than outside. The ruins are below the treeline, just barely, and some of the range's closest valleys are forested. Fire in the hearth is sustainable, for the moment, and it's made the stay tolerable.

  Zelda had been too exhausted to suffer through her customary nightmares. She'd slept like the dead straight through to the evening without ever waking. Even nearby activity couldn't rouse her.

  Now it's late evening, and the princess returns to the waking world with a shuddering start. She slowly relaxes as memory returns. The others had killed the beast while Hylia's power had sung through her veins. It's dead. The others aren't in any immediate danger.

  Slowly, oh so slowly, the princess opens her eyes to half-mast and stares at the intact part of the ceiling. She stares dully for several moments without comment. Her body wants to go back to sleep, but her mind is ready to do something, anything, constructive. At least she's behaving herself. She must really be tired if she's taking it slow like this.

  "I am beginning to loathe those creatures," Zelda observes quietly, to no one in particular.

Link didn't exhaust himself the way Zelda did. He didn't really need to. Actually, he's fairly certain that they'd have been able to handle the whole thing without him, if Rydia's abilities were anything to go by. But he made a point not to stir while there were still people sleeping... around, and on him. He isn't in a hurry to go anywhere, and all told there isn't really anywhere /to/ go. It isn't as if the surrounding mountains are the greatest of hunting grounds.

He would need to range out a distance just to find some Wolfos, and they were stringy and tough. Not for him, but certainly for all the people around him. They'd brought enough supplies, anyway. As far as he knew.

But when Zelda stirrs, so does the Sacred Beast. Even if he doesn't really need to move around, he is getting a little stiff just lying here.

Don'tcha hate 'em already? I haveta deal with a metric ton of the critters, whenever I'm roamin'. Only reason I been spared that for a bit is 'cause I've been going here and there with you. He replies, assuming that Zelda has the presence of mind to listen to his thoughts.

Link tilts his head to the side slightly, looking back at Zelda.

Twilight's cleared here. Prolly oughta get on doin' that in Ordon, sooner or later. You tastin' metal at all?

  It might be properly horrifying that she spent the night more or less flopped against half of a wild beast, but for the moment Zelda doesn't care that she's still curled up to Link's side. He's warm. Warmth is good. Some distant part of her hates these goddess-forsaken mountains already.

  Any port in a storm, though.

  Zelda surveys the room and falls back to telepathy, just in case there are any other sleepers. She wouldn't want to wake them. They've earned their rest.

  They've been chasing me since Hyrule Castle. Most of the time I can give them the slip, but I can't hide from them. Either she seems to be making an effort to sound more plain, or she's just too tired to put on subconscious royal airs. The weaker ones won't come near me. Her Grace's legacy is anathema to them.

  There's a long moment of silence from the princess.

  ...Oh... Goddesses. I'm sorry. I didn't mean...

  ...Because she just realised she's still holding to him. He's warm and the chamber is cold. But, manners. And awkardness. A little hastily, she lets him go, curling into her bedroll and pulling the cover up to her chin. There. Warm. Summer-blue eyes, somewhat red-rimmed, slowly drift closed.

  Yes, she 'says,' simply. It's accceptance and approval all in one, regarding going to Ordona. To the question of tasting metal, the princess frowns, cracking an eye open and licking her lips experimentally. I don't think so... I'm sorry if I worried you. I didn't have time to explain.

  When I call on Her Grace's powers, it takes a lot out of me. Zelda lets her eyes slide closed again, yanking the bedroll up to her chin so only her nose and the upper part of her face are visible. Warm. It's exhausting. Sometimes it's damaging. But with those beasts, I have no choice. I bear the essence of Her Grace, and it will allow me to suffer no evil.

  She shivers under her blanket, surreptitiously inching her entire bedroll just a little closer to Link. It has its uses. The instinct to destroy them is stronger even than my fear of them. And considering few have the power to fight back against them... I'm willing to pay the cost of fatigue, or a little blood and pain.

They don't seem to be able to track me down, so I reckon I don't have that particular problem. Kill most of 'em I come across, though. Ain't worth the risk of leaving them be, and it buys a little bit of time to rest if I need to. That girl was somethin' else. You weren't too bad, either-- the knight, well... whatever he did made my hair stand on end. Or maybe it was just all the lightning. Link tosses his head in what might be the closest thing he can get to a shrug.

Seems ta me like you smell too strong to 'em. Actually, you smell pretty strong to m-- what?

If a wolf can look puzzled, Link certainly does now. He doesn't seem to realize what occurred that was a problem, and just stares at Zelda as she fumbles around over... whatever. He's spent too much time dealing with weird things for being draped all over to bother him. Especially as an animal.

Besides, he'd slept in the pile so Zelda and Rydia /could/ stay warm. It's not like he isn't expecting anything like that.

But the Sacred Beast takes the chance to rise, STREEEEETCH, and meander around the room a little to work the stiffness out of his muscles. Unfortunately this robs Zelda of the opportunity to warm up again, for a short while at least.

Nah, not worried. Well, maybe a little, but I didn't smell too much blood so I reckoned it couldn't be all that bad. Still wanted to check and see once you got your wits back, tho.

He trots back and lies down alongside the bedroll, resting his head against the edge of it. The floor is too damned cold.

If you bleed out the mouth when you do that, you really oughta work on not doing it. Not, er, not when y'need to like you did yesterday. But still... that blood o' yers is like a bonfire. In fact, we pro'ly ought to clean up whatever's left later today.

  I'm sure my ancestors were a little more impressive. Zelda's admission is wistful. My grandmother was much closer to the goddesses than I am. At least, she was better at reading dreams than I am. I wish I still had her wisdom. The observation is given with sorrow, but it's a years-old sense of loss, softened by age. Her grandmother hadn't died in the usurpation. I think you would have liked her.

  She was very no-nonsense in a way this goatherd would probably like. He's not so far removed from that sense of fundamental pragmatism. He has to be, to live in a remote place like Ordona.

  Claws clicking against the stone bring her to glance over, though her perspective is somewhat cockeyed for the way she has to tilt her head. Oh. He's only stretching. That's a tempting thing to do but the world outside her bedroll is entirely too cold for that.

  She looks down as he lays his head on the edge of the bedroll. Scooting over a little, she offers him a bigger portion of the corner; enough room to really sprawl.

  I don't always, she explains, regarding her powers. In fact, that wasn't normal, but that wretch was fighting hard. It took everything in me to pin the damned thing down. There's a stab of remembered frustration with the words. I think it was wounded before it found us. Maybe it came here to lick its wounds.

  Her eyes slide closed, and she shifts a little to curl up against him after all. He's warm, he doesn't seem to mind, and she's ultimately too tired and cold to care about decorum too much. Hey, he's kind of soft, too. She's never been so close to a live wolf. What's it like? Her question is sudden, just a touch hesitant. Living in Ordona...?

Maybe some of 'em. Most of 'em, probably not. Most of 'em prob'ly didn't grow up in times as rough as yours have turned out to be. Tho, I s'pose that has less to do with the Goddesses and more to do with toughenin' up. Don't rightly know what makes somebody better or worse at listenin' to the Goddesses. Your ears look fine to me. Link replies, shutting his eyes again. It's cold enough out here that even for him, it's a lot easier to sit still and nap the day away given half the opportunity.

He issues a heavy, neutral sigh. It's nice not to have to trek through the mountains. The only thing he'd /really/ like to see right now is maybe a fire in the hearth. Also, a pig. A whole pig. All of it. With some sort of tasty sauce, maybe.

Again, he seems unperturbed by the contact.

Well, I reckon they're still alive. They probably don't wanna die any more than we do, and everyone gatherin' around 'em, well... prob'ly panicked. They usually keep their heads better'n that, but I reckon even them things at least act like animals. Wonder if it woulda moved on, if we hadn't come along.

Link shuts his eyes. The things drifting out of his head are momentarily incoherent flashes of images. After a moment, he replies, Everybody brags about how early they wake up 'round breakfast and then lunch time. Talk about whatever work filled their mornin'. I herd goats, so mostly that involves a lot of goat-wrestlin' for me. Maybe do some milking if it's time for it, or cleaning if it ain't. Horseback riding. Sword trainin', on account of me and Rusl being the only two soldiers in the village at all. 'Course we ain't real soldiers, but you don't need real soldiers that far out.

So I reckon it's quiet, without so much to talk about unless a bokoblin strays in or we get an order from the big city, or the Mayor decides to wrestle a Goron.

  Neither do I. Zelda gives her own sigh, but it's more contentment because she can still feel her hands and feet. There's something to be said for that in a place as wretchedly cold as this. But I'm sure it has nothing to do with ears. I think it's more... faith, maybe?

  We're priestesses, too, you know. We royal women. We carry the blood of Her Grace; of the Goddess Hylia. It isn't just a ceremonial title or a flowery description. We really do carry the blood of the goddess. That's why it's like fire to you... I can't really help it, she adds, with a faint sigh. If I could figure out a way to do that, I would. But I think it's just a part of what I am. I'd never really needed to worry about it before.

  Anyway... we really are priestesses. You've never been to the public equinox and solstice ceremonies? That's a shame. They begin as solemn affairs and usually erupt into wild celebration halfway through the week. Supply lines get jammed, merchants run out of goods, and half of Castle Town is gloriously and joyously drunk, slurring most of their way through the public hymns of praise.

  She smiles faintly, no more than a twitch of the corner of her mouth. I miss seeing people having fun like that. They're so afraid... I want to help them. But for now, I've done everything I can do.

  Zelda falls silent, as though she were sorting through that flurry of images and impressions. She examines each one. Most of them don't make much sense, but some do, in the brief instant she can see them. The bright green of open pastures and clear skies. Ordon goats, with their ornamented and shaped horns. The village's main thoroughfare, though the villagers themselves are strangers to her.

  I had heard that Mayor Bo had some kind of skill in wrestling the Gorons. It takes tremendous strength, you know; they're just so big... Well, that answers that question. He's the only Hylian I know who can do that.

  She falls silent. Did she fall asleep? Nah. He might feel her settle a little closer, resting her head along his side and closing her eyes. Silence falls, but it's a comfortable silence. For once the princess seems to be relaxed, too tired to worry herself sick over her people or the half-dozen crises she has in front of her at any given time.

  I'm sorry about what's happened to you, but... I'm also glad you're here, she finally observes, a little more quietly. I guess it sounds a little selfish, but I'm glad I don't have to face all of this alone.

If it has to do with faith, Link replies, "An' you literally know for a fact that you're descended from a Goddess, do you really need faith at all? Seems ta me like havin' that sorta knowledge is pretty contrary to bein' able to speak with the Goddesses. Y'can't be faithful if y'just happen to know for a fact th at this and that are a thing and you're, you know. One of 'em yourself, in a way.

An' yeah, I knew you were supposed to hear the Goddesses somehow. The ear thing was just a joke, I figgered it had somethin' to do with this thing you're doin' with me right now. Ordinary folk can't ,er, just think at each other and have anything happen, y'know?

Shiiiit, I don't think I've got an ounce of magic in me. says the Magical Wolf.

The Sacred Beast's eyes crack open. He turns his head to look at Zelda, and gives it a shake, Ain't never been far out of Ordon. Comin' to deliver the sword, that was the first time I was gonna be goin' to the city at all. Woulda been nice t'have seen it before everythin' happened, but it was pretty impressive just breakin' in to see you.

He gives a strange, not-really-proper laugh consisting of a series of tiny barks.

I could, pro'bly. He taught me. Not like this, though. Don't got the limbs to wrestle properly at all. Could prob'ly headbutt one pretty good if I had to.

Another heavy, neutral sigh.

Likewise. Midna got me too used to havin' a partner, now whenever there's ten minutes quiet it's just spooky as hell. I don't reckon people should go through these things alone. S'bad enough with two. But quit apologizin', ain't anything you coulda done or you woulda. You're too bullheaded not to have done.

  I don't think I'm explaining this right. Zelda's thoughts carry a note of dismay. It's hard to explain. Yawning, she settles more comfortably in her bedroll, leaning against the wolf. Person. Hero. Thing. Part of her is grateful he doesn't really give a damn about appearances. It's nice not to be completely cold.

  I think it's more... faith, but in the sense of knowing your purpose and place. She exhales, softly. It's not quite a sheepish laugh. That probably doesn't help very much, does it? It's like you explaining to me what something smells like with a nose like that. I just don't have any point of reference...

  She actually laughs when he compares her to a goddess, but softly. Me? A goddess? That's flattering, but no. I can only borrow a small piece of Her Grace's power, and only in moderation. My body can't withstand doing too much with it, like holding that beast when it didn't want to be held. I can only do these things because her blood is in my veins, so I share her purpose and her will; to protect my people. With my life, if necessary. I don't... it's hard to explain. I guess 'faith' isn't really the right word. I'm tired.

  Words are hard. It's hard to articulate something she understands instinctively.

  I used to like the quiet, until I was imprisoned in my own tower. It was too quiet. I could hear the screams. Castle Town burning. Even prayer couldn't help me in that goddess-forsaken place. Her admission is so soft and dim that it would be missed if it were verbal, and she pulls herself up to prop herself up on her elbows, looking to the cold hearth. It will be good to cast him down from my throne and set Hyrule to right. He's had his way too long already.

  She eases herself back down again, deciding she's too tired to lay that way, instead settling beside him and leaning her head against his side. ...You're not cold, are you? I could light the coals. Sir Cecil found firewood.

Well, none of /that/ makes a lick o' sense to me so I don't reckon it can be explained. S'okay, though. Don't gotta understand everythin' under the sun, and this sounds like something you gotta experience and I can't. Still seems to me like you know everything you oughta be able to know to get where you're going though. Maybe you don't feel as if you're quite where you need to be, and because you feel that way, that's the way it is? Link offers, but the whole feel of the exchange is uncertain. He doesn't get it, just like he said.

Bein' the Chosen Hero or whatever, it don't feel like mucha anything to me. Got whomped, woke up, witchy imp girl recruits me to be her minion. Spend some time roamin' around, come see you. Carry on. Catch your blood trail. There wasn't any need to continue the story, because they just lived the last stretch of it so recently. At least getting /down/ from here would be a lot quicker than getting up.

They could sled down.

Anyhow

I reckon you'll get it the way you want to sooner or later, when you're less ragged and tired and chewed up. His ears stand up, one flopping over awkwardly since his head is on its side.

On the subject of the Twilight King, he replies: Y'suppose this is what he really wants? He has his own army already. He must have his own Kingdom. So why's he botherin' Hyrule? Ain't taken nothin' useful. Just spreading the twilight and terrorizing people. By the way, ain't that many dead people out there in the settlements.

You prob'ly won't like t'hear this, but mostly he just lets them drift around in spirit form. The critters go and harass them, but they don't usually do nothin' real serious. Only the Bokoblins seem to be attackin' normal folks for real.

A strange vocalization. Probably equivalent of a 'huh'?

Naw. This coat is pretty thick. If you're cold, go ahead. It ain't gonna bother me none. I ain't cold, but I could be warmer.

  I said it was hard to explain. Zelda's admission is given with tired acceptance. It would be like Link trying to explain to her what it's like to smell the world through a wolf's nose. She has no more point of reference for that than he does for her certainty of purpose.

  She manages a faint vocalisation, but it's more dismissive than anything else. He's right. She'll try to find better words when she's less exhausted.

  Cracking an eye open, she catches sight of him standing his ears up and one of them flopping over. Zelda manages a faint smile, reaching up to tweak the flopped ear, but gently. Probably so.

  It sounds like nobody's told you about the Twilight Realm. Since Midna obviously hasn't bothered, I will. The shortest version is that the Twili were once Hylians, countless generations ago. They tried to seize the Sacred Realm and almost destroyed Hyrule doing it. They were banished by the Light Spirits to the Twilight Realm.

  She closes her eyes. Zant likened his people to insects in a cage. He doesn't want Hyrule, not specifically, but power. He craves power. He wants to see us suffer. His hatred for our kind borders on insanity, all because he wasn't chosen for the throne.

  Is that so? That eye flickers open, no more than a slit of summer-blue, thoughtful. It was a massacre in Hyrule Castle. He wanted to send a message.

  Maybe he has plans to feed her people to his beasties, over time. Maybe that's why he hasn't bothered attacking the outlying settlements. Or maybe he knows they'll eventually perish, as helpless spirits. Maybe they'll just fade away, like snow too long in the sun.

  Shifting her weight, she rests an arm over him, leaning her head against her arm and closing her eyes. There's a short pause. Then, Thank you. For letting her drape herself on him like royal adornment. He's pleasantly warm. Having a fur coat must be nice.

  On my way through Eldin Province, when the Adept-Slayer caught me, I heard of monsters on the move. Not just one or two isolated rumours. Widespread. She sighs, more because she's reluctant to get up than anything else, and levers herself up to a sitting position, shivering and reaching for the fire tools. Some kind soul left their flint and tinder, so she uses it to rekindle the hearth.

  It takes all her strength, but she manages to heave a fresh log that'd been left by the hearth onto the fire, too. She's left pale and shaking, but looks satisfied at having found the strength to pull it off. Even if only barely. Sinking into a crouch, she sifts through the coals until the hearth burns merrily, wrapping her arms around herself and huddling before it, shivering a little.

  She decides silently that their first order of business is going to be to patch the bloody holes in the bloody roof.

  I might sleep a while more, she issues, wearily. After I warm up. It is entirely too damned cold on this goddess-forsaken frozen rock, she observes, blearily. Why anyone would want to live here, I don't know.

I know.

Link is fully accepting of the fact that this just isn't something he can get. There's nothing wrong with that-- it's just how Zelda thinks about it. It's a categorical incompatibility. Something to do with their roles, if he has to take a stab at it, but even that much barely occurs to him. Wisdom and Courage demand different things altogether by their very nature.

The Sacred Beast twists his head slightly in reply to the tweak of his ear. /That/ got his attention. It seems to be reflexive though-- the same sort of response that occurred when she touched his head. Less violent though, and less immediate. Just a mad scramble to see what's poking at him. It's just her, though-- and in light of that, he calms down fairly quickly.

His head rests against the floor again almost at once.

Sounds t'me like banishing them caused more trouble'n it was worth in the first place. At least if they were around, you'd probably have a better notion of what they were up to. As it is... I've never /heard/ any o' this. Not in the wildest stories. 'Course, there are stories of shadow folk, but I don't reckon they're the same kinna people as these... twili. Wonder why Midna didn't tell me 'bout this, tho.

He snorts loudly.

No, I don't. She's a secretive little cuss. S'okay though. I understand. Can't be easy to talk about, and she's 'bout as proud as you. Maybe prouder. Lot less serious about it though. She likes to put herself out there and look big.

You're quieter about it. More worried about how it looks.

On the subject of what's being done out in the country, Link inhales deeply and sits up a little to nod firmly. Ain't anybody dead out in the countryside, most settlements are near left alone. I reckon the Zora are in a worse spot than most, 'cause I ain't seen hide nor hair of 'em, but near as I can tell the average person isn't being hurt. Just reduced to... nothing. Wisps in the dark, frightened and run to ground at best. Some of 'em just keep on goin' about their daily business, like they don't realize none of what's goin' on. I wonder if maybe they really don't.

The Sacred Beast hauls himself up long enough to lie back down by the newly-ignited fire. He's perfectly content to get used as a pillow-blanket combination if that's what is wanted or needed.

Do it. Gotta do it while you have the chance. Number one rule of survival. You drink when you can, you eat when you can, you don't overdo it and you rest as often as you can 'cause you never know when you won't be able to. An' probably because nobody has a single damned good reason to be out here. Nice place to get away from everything.

Or maybe the Goddesses inspired them, and they knew what was to come. Anyhow, it don't matter, it's here now. Rest.

  When Link twists his head, the hand halts, though she doesn't back down. There's no fear inherent in the gesture. She only studies him, quietly. His head reaches the floor again, and she cautiously runs the backs of her fingers over the top of his head. Just a little. A quiet expression of gratitude, one that doesn't need telepathy to announce itself.

  She wraps herself more securely in her hooded robe and bedroll, hunkering down now that the fire has a chance to rekindle properly. A good bed of coals makes all the difference.

  Maybe she should've had him help her with the log, but he hasn't got thumbs. It probably would have been even more awkward.

  ...Eh. Yumi and Rydia can scold her later, and they can thank her for not freezing to death as they do it. She's not alert enough to care about scolding. Sometimes, things just need to be done, so they get done. Sometimes the cost of doing those things doesn't matter.

  That's because only the Light Spirits and the Sages remember these things. Her mental explanation is soft, and when he sits up to nod, she leans comfortably against him. At least she's stopped being wary in his presence. If anything, since they had their brief falling-out, she's seemed much more comfortable in his presence. They cleared the air, and now they can get to the business of trusting one another and doing whatever it is Hyrule needs them to do at any given time. It was never relevant before now. The realms couldn't coexist. Now they do. I do wonder how Zant managed that little trick. Probably that power he isn't supposed to be wielding...

  There's no argument when he settles himself back down near her, and she settles an arm around him, if only to help herself balance mostly upright, keeping watch over the fire for a few minutes. Her eyes fall half-closed. I won't argue that Midna's a secretive little cuss. But she's a secretive little cuss we can trust, even if it seems like she's working at cross purposes sometimes. She wants the same thing we do.

  That is to say, Zant's head on a large decorative pike.

  Zora's Domain has been silent, she agrees, faintly. Queen Rutela hasn't responded to my attempts to contact her. The Zora were always close to the royal family, and our people have always been allied. The silence worries me.

  ...I know, she admits, to the rules of survival. I had to do the same thing when I left Hyrule Castle, and I didn't always get to do those things, either. I didn't mind too much. Her eyes drift until they're nearly closed. I knew what I was getting into...

  The princess yawns deeply enough that her eyes water a little, one hand half-raising to cover her mouth. ...excuse me. Anyway, compared to shivering on the side of the road, this place is a luxury.

  If he looks over he'll find her eyes have drifted closed again, leaned against his side, her head on his shoulder. Her mental presence dims. She's not asleep... but she's almost there. What few thoughts she spares are muzzy and tired. Gradually, she eases herself back down to the unappealingly hard floor, curling up beside him and resting her head against his side. She smells faintly of exotic spices, or maybe that's just the hooded robe from Kaipo, still carrying traces of the desert market.

  "Mmn..." She answers his chiding to rest with a soft sound in the back of her throat, along with a feeling of vague agreement. You should rest while you can, too. Will you stay with me for a little while...? It's still cold... There's a feeling of something she doesn't quite communicate; a sensation caught between sheepish and shy. And... I always feel a little safer when you're around, too.

It's gotten easier to just deal with it. Maybe it's because he's spent so much time around Zelda now-- or maybe he's just getting a better hold of his instincts. Who knows? What matters is that he doesn't keep trying to turn around to bite. The sensation of the contact is... weird. It's one of those things that he doesn't really think can be aptly communicated on a human level. Sure, he can get the appeal of personal gestures -- hugging, stuff like that.

Headpats, well. As near as he can tell, it's a canine thing. Maybe it's just that it's more natural to the form. Everybody pets dogs.

Hang on, hang on. If they remember these things, ain't it a good idea to let people know about 'em every now and then? Make sure they don't forget, so if the whole thing comes back to bite 'em on the ass it doesn't... y'know. Happen this way. Or...

The wolf raises his head, tilting his head to one side questioningly -- perhaps thoughtfully.

I guess maybe, so many bad things have happened since they existed that they can't be expected to tell us about all of 'em just in case one thing or another crawls out of the grave it was thrown into. Who woulda thought a buncha people banished from this world for trying to go to another world would come back?

Wonder what other kin'na nasties are lyin' around, waitin for somebody to pull the stopper off their bottle.

Link looks towards the hole in the ceiling, and continues, It's kinda sad though, to think of those people stuck in Twilight forever. It's no wonder they're angry. Even if they did a bad thing, does that mean they ought to have been pushed away forever?

But I s'pose it's easy to judge this stuff hundreds of years after the fact. Still... I /do/ think it's sad.

A mental laugh comes now, instead of a verbal one. Link's tail thumps against the floor, I don't distrust Midna. She wears her heart on her sleeve, even if not her thoughts. I like folks like that.

The Sacred Beast's ears flatten out at Zelda's explanation of her contact with the Zora. His thoughts from there are slow, careful, uneasy: Much as I wanna get my village back in order... it's not so important. Zant ain't gonna go do anythin' to it. We should check on the Zora first. They might be in worse trouble'n everyone else is.

Link lays his head down again and shuts his eyes. Y'ain't wrong. Yeah, I'll stay with ya. Go to sleep.

Privately, he thinks that if the Twilight Beast snatching her out from underneath him was any indication, Zelda shouldn't be so relaxed by his presence. But he holds his silence and, slowly, lets himself drift off.

Link doesn't want to conjure up Zelda's own nightmares again. She needs the rest-- and the longer they stay away, the better that rest will be.

  Maybe she's only testing him, and seeing if he can overcome the wild instinct to bare fangs. Maybe she's not even thinking about the gesture. It's true that she's not really fully awake; she can be one hundred percent mortified about behaving awkwardly later.

  Right now it's just a little thank-you gesture because she's too tired and disorganised to put it to words. That might be just as well. Words don't seem to matter as much to the goatherd, anyway.

  Mmn. That same tired sound, only it's put to thought this time. It's getting harder to concentrate on stringing the correct thoughts together. She'll sleep, but she'll let herself wind down naturally, first. There was a wealth of information in Hyrule Castle's library. Zant put it to the torch.

  Welp. So much for that.

  I'm sure we'll find out. Her comment on what other bottled nasties are lying around isn't really sarcastic, though it could be taken that way. I'm sure the Twilight Realm isn't the last one.

  The princess mumbles something vague, yanking her bedroll around herself more securely, curling up beside the wolf and tucking the lower half of her face into the blanket. It's almost enough to make her giddy, to be able to feel her hands and feet at the same time! So often her feet have been blocks of numb pins-and-needles pain in the past week that she'd forgotten what it was like not to be half frozen.

  Zelda sighs, softly, and opens her eyes just enough to see the fire dancing in the hearth. They were content with what they had, according to Midna. Zant was an extremist who seized power from the rightful sovereign... Her 'voice' grows smaller and more distant. But it is a little sad...

  Maybe. This, in response to scouting out Zora's Domain. Her answer isn't necessarily verbal, but a series of impressions that nonetheless convey her intent: There's a shortcut to Zora's Domain somewhere in the mountains, close to the ruins, but she'll need a map to find it. That old wrecked writing desk against the wall might have a false drawer with documents stuffed in it, though it's a long shot they've survived. She'll look tomorrow when she's less unconscious.

  She manages a faint, tired sound as she curls up into the bedroll. It could mean half a dozen different things, or none at all. It could just be contentment at being warm and relatively safe.

  It may be that Link couldn't react to the shadow beast, but that was knowing the thing was in the area. She seems to have a knack for picking up on sources of corruption -- and she's made it clear the place is clear now that they've dealt with the single Twilight Messenger.

  Good night. Goddesses watch over you.

  There's a short pause, and Zelda issues a faint flicker of wordless gratitude when he says he'll stay. It's all she has the wherewithal to send before she lets herself drift back down into dreamless sleep.

  Without trying to project strength and confidence, she looks less like a royal and more like a tired, beleaguered young woman; surprisingly vulnerable despite the power she had wielded... but there's a little bit of peace to her expression, all the same. Maybe having a base of operations has helped ease her mind. Even if only on a subconscious level, the battle against the Twilight doesn't feel quite so hopeless, now.

  They've all at least got a fighting chance.