Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Anyone recognize this? Anyone?”

Legend sounds vaguely exhausted, though he always does, these days. The new Hyrule this portal’s dumped them into doesn’t look like what Wild’s seen of his, and it definitely isn’t Wild himself’s. It’s too vibrant. The high grasses are so green, the hunching trees so lush, the glittering water so intensely blue. Lilypads and flowers of all colors pepper the water's surface. A waterfall tumbles from a nearby cliff and gleams in the sunshine. It's beautiful, honestly. 

It also makes Wild uneasy. Out in the wilderness, such vibrant colors usually indicate poison. 

The only times they’ve been to that are anywhere near this bright are Sky’s and Wind’s, but the Chosen Hero shakes his head, and the sailor says, “It’s a swamp?”

“No shit,” Legend says without bite.

“Well I don’t have swamps! I’ve only seen you guys have swamps.”

“My swamps aren’t this colorful,” offers Hyrule.

Wild’s swamps are all mud. And bone. “Neither are mine,” he commiserates.

Four hums in agreement. They’ve actually been to one of his, and it was all greyish-greens, so that’s no surprise.

“I can’t stand swamps,” Warriors grumbles, wiping at a lock of hair that has already plastered itself to his forehead. “The humidity is just—”

“Impossible, I know, pretty boy!” Legend aims an elbow at the captain’s side, which he only barely dodges. “That’s not what I asked, though, is it?”

“Who cares what you asked, veteran?”

Warriors’ attempt to jab Legend back sends the veteran nearly dodging right into Sky, who muffles his laughter as he tries to avoid getting dragged into another one of their scuffles. The Shadow has been just distant enough recently that it's put them all in a good mood. Well, besides the occasional fits of paranoia. But in Wild's opinion, they've earned those plenty.

“I might recognize it,” says Time. He doesn’t face them, staring out over the river. 

Legend and Warriors pause. “Might?” Legend repeats skeptically.

“I’m not so young as you. If this place is what I think it is, I haven’t been here in a long while.”

“This doesn’t look like your Hyrule,” Twilight prompts.

At last, Time turns to look over his shoulder. “It isn’t,” he says simply. “If I’m right, of course.”

It’s so easy to see the wolf in Twilight once you know to look for it. The way he shifts backwards in surprise and the way his ears literally perk upright are so reminiscent of Wolfie. He glances at Wild, as if Wild doesn’t know even less about Time than he does. Wild merely shrugs. Twilight, after a second, shrugs back, and returns to soothing Epona. Poor girl isn’t very happy with the swamp, either.

“Of course,” Legend mutters. “Ow!”

Warriors returns his arm to his side, pleased with the at last successful jab. This time their scuffle is artfully dodged by Four stepping around them to follow Time into the thicker grass. The rest of them fall in easily after that. 

Wild’s fingers rake through the blades, itching to pluck. Unfortunately, there's not much in the way of other plantlife, and he’s got to keep up with the quicker-than-usual pace Time is setting since he has Twilight at his elbow. The grasses give way to water, which they grumble about and slosh through anyway. Wild admires the beautiful lilypads. Legend hoists Four up without even being asked as soon as the water gets too deep.

“Not a kid!" Four sharply reminds him.

“What’s that gotta do with it? It’s just ‘cause you’re short. Wind’s doing just fine,” says Legend, setting off another round of complaints, this time from the sailor.

It's nice and familiar. The unease in Wild weakens some.

They make it back to land near a strange-looking hut. Time marches on, but he’s not even minding where he walks. Instead, he looks up at the sky. It’s as vibrant as everything else in this place, a pure, perfect blue, and clearer than anything Wild’s ever seen. Not even a cloud in sight.

“There’s a town about an hour’s walk from here,” Time finally says.

Relief ripples through them.

“Thank the Goddess, a bed,” Sky murmurs to Four.

“So it’s really not your Hyrule?” calls Twilight.

Without missing a step, Time shakes his head. “This is a land called Termina. There’s not much to say—a great evil tormented its people once, but it’s long dead now. I suspect our only trouble will be the Shadow.”

“Don’t jinx us, old man!” Wild warns.

Another ripple, this time of laughter, which puts warmth in Wild’s chest. Time smiles wanly. When he turns again, he looks back up to the clear blue sky, even though nothing has changed.

- 

Time’s always good with time, if Wild may be so bold. So, true to his word, they make it to a settlement in about an hour. It’s a strange-looking place and most of its buildings obscured by high stone walls. They're even higher than his Castle Town's used to be. He knows Time said there's no evil here, but he has to wonder if it was attacked very often, for it to need such protection. The only thing that’s tall enough for Wild to make out over the walls is a clock tower. Its face, ornately painted in reds, yellows, and blues, reaches up into the heavens.

“Ho there!” says a guard.

“Good afternoon,” says Time. 

None of the rest of them say anything. In another Hyrule—or a land that will become Hyrule, or once was Hyrule, it gets complicated—there’s some sense of cultural connection, at least. But Wild’s never even heard of Termina. Nobody else seemed to recognize it when Time named it, either. Better nobody puts their foot in their mouth.

The guard takes a long look at them all. “Here for the Carnival, are you now?”

Time doesn’t miss a beat. “Of course. We’ve been travelling for so long, I almost feared we’d missed it.”

“Bahaha! That’s some dedication,” the guard says, stamping his spear against the ground. “No, sir. Still three days left. Enjoy them!” And he steps aside, allowing them entry.

Time glances over his shoulder. “You heard the man,” he says.

Twilight leaves Epona outside the walls with a gentle promise to return, softly brushing through her mane as he does. They go.

The town is almost like Twilight or Four or Time’s Castle Towns, in that it’s so Goddess-damned busy. The second Wild’s inside, the sheer amount of sights and sounds and noises almost bowls him over as easily as if he were one of Pondo’s pins. People rush about everywhere. Dogs yap and yip. Someone must be playing music. Construction workers wander about, and their hammers knock-knock-knock into wood over and over again, drilling into Wild’s brain. His head is practically on a swivel, so much so that he doesn’t even notice the group stopped until Twilight grabs his tunic and stops him from walking right into Hyrule.

“Thanks,” he says, scratching his neck.

Twilight smiles and shakes his head.

“You don’t look too excited for this Carnival,” Warriors is saying to Time as the remaining two fall in. “What, expecting some kind of surprise attack?”

Wind shakes his head fiercely. “We were just saying to not jinx things.”

“It’s not out of line for the Shadow, though,” Four puts in.

Sky sighs a quiet “That’s depressing.” Hyrule pats his shoulder.

“There’s no use speculating until we find ourselves a lead. We’ll drive ourselves mad,” Time says firmly, setting both hands on his hips. His stern face relaxes some, though, and he reluctantly adds, “…To be frank, I was worried about the inn.”

Warriors narrows his eyes. “…Why?”

“The Carnival of Time makes Clock Town a tourist destination. I say there’s no chance there are nine beds free.”

A chorus of groans rises from the rest of them. Wild loves sleeping outdoors, though, so he can’t complain. 

“If you boys want to explore, I can go check,” Time adds. “I remember where it is.”

“There’s bound to be half-decent shops here, isn’t there?” muses Legend. 

Four hums. “Must be, since it’s so much like Castle Town.”

They split into groups and agree to rendezvous back here in two hours. Wild tells himself that he’s very intrigued by this inn and that’s why he’s sticking with Time and Twilight, but he's never been very good at lying to himself. Highly-populated towns still make him nervous, no matter how hard he tries to push it down. All the people rushing this way and that just put this weird feeling in his chest. And Twilight sees, no matter how hard Wild tries to pretend he's fine. He always does.

Time probably sees, too. But so long as Twilight’s handling it, he doesn’t say anything.

Wild hates being a thing to be handled, but so does Twilight, and Legend, and probably all the rest of them, though he could never imagine Time being handled by anyone. Regardless. If they can suck it up and deal with it, he can too.

In this situation getting handled is really only Twilight walking alongside him instead of next to Time, anyway, a grounding presence in Clock Town’s hustle and bustle. There’s a flash of red in the corner of Wild’s eye, and for a heart-pounding second he almost thinks he recognizes someone—but why would he recognize someone in this place? He barely recognizes people in his Hyrule some days. And this isn’t even a Hyrule.

He looks up. Twilight frowns in the same direction Wild was looking. Wild shifts his gaze to Time, who hasn’t slowed one bit, and lets out a breath.

He wonders if his Castle Town ever looked anything like Clock Town. Once upon a time there must’ve been enough people that walking the streets felt like this, everyone jostling over each other and vendors calling and kids running underfoot, flags decorating the high walls with splashes of color, the walls that keep everyone here safe. Probably a long time, probably hundreds of years, until Wild—until Link—

“Here,” says Time.

He opens a door. Wild and Twilight follow him inside. It swings shut behind them, and the din outside abruptly and mercifully fades. Wild wipes his shaking hands on his champion’s tunic.

The inside is typical for an inn: a counter, a bench to sit and wait. Wild likes the white walls and the plants that give the room a little life. He doesn’t like the clock, which clunks loudly as it ticks, its whole exterior turning.

The girl staffing the counter is occupied with a book. She must be a little younger than Wild—physically, that is. Hopefully she's not anywhere near a hundred. She has bright purple hair to her shoulders, even brighter than that oddball merchant Legend’s friends with, and blue eyes.

Time approaches.

She finally lifts her gaze, startles, and hurriedly sets the book aside. “Welcome to the Stock Pot Inn,” she greets, hasty. “Um, do you have a reservation?”

Time shakes his head. “Looking to make one.”

“Just one second.” The girl disappears into the hallway behind the counter. “Mom! Customers!”

“Coming, Link!” a woman calls back.

Link?

Time doesn’t jolt—Wild has seen him jolt maybe once in all the time they’ve travelled together—but it is something close, his face dropping in surprise. Even his bad eye twitches.

“We’re not getting another one, are we?” Twilight mutters. His ears quiver.

“No way,” Wild whispers back. “It’s been way too long.”

The shock clouding Time’s face only lasts a few seconds. He turns to speak to them and it’s gone, a fog evaporated by sunlight. “No,” he agrees. “No. Termina doesn’t carry the Hero’s Spirit.”

Twilight glances to the hallway as if it’d reveal where the girl disappeared to. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” Time says. He turns back to the counter and drums his fingers against the wood surface, tap-tap-tap tap-tap-tap. “It’s a name, Pup. That’s all it is.”

A woman appears from the hallway instead. It must be Link’s mother, Wild decides. She has the same blue eyes, though they’re framed by small wrinkles, and her short hair is brown instead of that strange purple. She wears a brown skirt to match her hair, a blue skirt to match her eyes, and quite a nervous expression.

“Hello there, and welcome to the Stock Pot Inn,” she says, a hesitant lilt to her kind voice. “You’re looking to reserve, is that right?” At Time’s nod, she adds, “I’m sorry to tell you that we’re awfully busy this time of year. I can still look for you, but I can’t promise anything.”

“That’s all right,” Time says, his tone gentle.

“Can I get a name for your reservation?”

He pauses. His one eye's just a little too wide. The look on his face is odd, too young for him. Wild is almost certain he won’t do it, but he says, “Link.”

The woman at the counter lights up. “Link!” Time straightens, and her eyes go wide. “Oh, sorry, sorry! Ah… my daughter is named Link, too, that’s all. It’s a good name.”

Time’s shoulders relax. “Right,” he says, almost to himself. Then louder: “A good name indeed.”

This is weird, isn’t it? Wild doesn’t pretend to know anything about Time other than the things the old man lets slip for his own amusement, so he’s by no means an expert on what’s normal or not for him, but this seems like odd behavior. He shoots a glance at Twilight, the closest thing to a Time Expert they have (and he’s still far from it, no offense, Time is just that reserved). But Twilight looks as confused as he does—even the warmth of Time praising their shared name didn’t distract him. He meets Wild’s gaze and shakes his head, his brows furrowing.

Okay. So it is weird.

“How many beds are we looking for, Link?” the woman says.

“Ah… I know I’m pushing my luck, but it’s nine.”

Her brows shoot up. “Nine?” To her credit, her voice stays sweet, burying her obvious incredulity. She flips through the book in front of her. The pages rush together, and the sound is nice, almost burying the clunk of the clock. Her eyes dart back and forth over the pages. Then, she lifts her head. “Ah, um… I’m really so sorry, but I don’t think there’s any time in the next few days that we have nine beds open at once.”

“That’s all right. I expected as much, frankly, but I appreciate you checking.”

The woman smiles, probably relieved by how well he takes it. “Have you come for the Carnival before? Clock Town’s always a madhouse when it rolls around, I think… But I should just be grateful for the clear skies,” she says with some humor that Wild doesn’t understand.

Time seems to, though, because a wry smile cracks his face. “I’ve never seen it like this.”

“Really? I could’ve sworn… but I must be mistaken,” she murmurs, clearly to herself. 

Wild glances urgently at Twilight again: Do you know what’s going on?

Another shake of the head.

“Don’t mind me. Wishful thinking.” The woman wipes her hands on her innkeeper’s dress. Are they trembling? “I’m very sorry we don’t have any room. I hope you find someplace, Link.”

“We’ll make do under the stars if we must. It’s worth it for the Carnival,” Time says, tilting his head in a way that would be accompanied by a wink on anyone else. “Thanks for your time, Anju.”

The woman—Anju—puts her hands together and bows her head with a smile. Her hands aren’t trembling at all. Wild must’ve imagined it.

Time retreats from the counter and rejoins them by the bench. “As I thought,” he says simply.

With a sigh, Twilight runs a hand through his hair. “Wind and the captain might have conniptions.”

“Are we really going to camp out?” Wild’s unable to hide his excitement at the idea. Also, it’s a much safer topic than whatever all that was.

Over Time’s shoulder, purple-haired Link re-enters the room and reaches past her mother for her book. “Are Aunt Romani and Aunt Cremia still coming for dinner?” she asks. 

For a moment, the only sound is the clock ticking. “Aunt Cremia is, yes. Aunt Romani—well…”

Link opens her book and frowns. “It’s that time of the year,” she mutters.

“Link!”

“Well, it’s true! She always gets all weird!” hisses Link.

Anju sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. Wild tries to not make it too obvious that he’s looking. “I’ll make her a plate anyway,” Anju says. “Worst comes to worst, Aunt Cremia can take it back to the ranch.”

“...Time?” Twilight prods. The old man hasn’t answered Wild yet.

Time’s gaze snaps from the clock to Twilight quite suddenly, though the rest of him remains very still. “Right, yes,” he says. “I expect so. But it’s been some time since I’ve been here, as I said, so we can look to see if another inn has opened.”

“But you don’t think so?” presses Wild.

The wry smile returns. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Wars is gonna be so mad,” he delights. Twilight socks him on the bicep, and the guy knows his strength from all the time he spent playing with the kids in Ordon, but even then, ow. He’s got an arm. “Hey! Like you don’t think it’s funny.”

“Save the celebrating for when he’s actually squirming,” Twilight says sagely.

“Ohhh. Yeah, good point, O mentor of mine.” (He never calls Twilight his mentor except as a joke, but it makes the rancher happy every time he does anyway. It’s kind of sweet.)

The sigh they drag from Time definitely isn’t one of the best Wild has managed, but it is pretty good, and just large enough to convey disappointment without seeming actually annoyed by Twilight joining in on Wild’s antics—that would break poor Twilight’s heart. It’s a familiar sigh. Wild likes it better than him looking all childlike in front of Anju, and he bets Twilight does too.  “Let’s pull ourselves together, boys,” Time instructs.

They at last leave the Stock Pot Inn. Wild has to fight not to look back at Anju and Link. Something about it’s still bothering him. What are the odds that they run into someone named Link in a whole other world and it just happens to have nothing to do with them?

And with the way Time reacted, he’s not so convinced that it does have nothing to do with them. 

“Does it matter where we go next?” Twilight asks as the door shuts behind Wild, shaking him out of his thoughts.

“Well, we agreed on a few hours.” Wild looks around the bustling square. He can’t deny that the urge to explore is bubbling up in him again—and even if his mind is getting weird about how many people there are, that’s not enough to deter him, especially not with Twilight by his side. He sets his hands on his hips and says very seriously, “I say we go where our hearts take us.”

“Oh, c’mon.” Twilight’s laugh shows off his fangs. “Where could your heart possibly be calling you, huh?”

“…Uhh… west?”

His unconvincing answer makes Twilight laugh even harder.

“What do you think, Time?” Wild says.

Time turns to them. “West is fine with me,” he says. “There’re plenty of shops, even if we don’t find a place to sleep.”

It’s decided, then. But before they head off, Wild catches Time look back at the building across from the Stock Pot Inn, a tiny place with a bright orange and green sign that he can’t read. All he can really parse is a little drawing of a milk bottle on the chalkboard outside. Time sighs again—quiet this time, all to himself—and draws himself up, and it’s like nothing ever happened. He leads them west.

“Wild,” Twilight says, low, once Time has gotten a decent lead on them. 

Wild had a feeling he was slowing down on purpose. “What?” he breathes, knowing Twilight’s ears are so sensitive that he’ll pick it up anyway.

“That woman at the inn. Did she have a nametag on? Do you remember?”

Furrowing his brow, Wild calls Anju to mind. “No. I mean, I don’t think so. You know how my memory is. Uh, do you think she did?”

Twilight shakes his head. 

“Why?” Wild presses.

“Think I’m making a big deal of nothing,” Twilight mutters.

“Well, I can only tell you what I think if I know what you’re thinking.”

The rancher’s eyes flick to Time, back to Wild, back again. He crosses his arms over his chest. “He called her Anju, but I don’t think she ever told him her name. That’s all. Thought it was weird.”

Wild frowns. “No, hold on, I think you’re right. And for a second it was like…”

“But I don’t feel right trying to dig it up,” Twilight finishes for him, staring after Time. 

Well, then Wild won’t.

That simple. No matter how much it nags at him.

Time's weird. Time’s been weird, cagey, and restrained, and so what, because that’s just who he is. Four said it best way back when: they all have their own secrets, and they're all restrained in their own ways. So long as it doesn’t impact the rest of them, none of them have the right to go around pushing and pulling. After all, though he has the story of his life written across half his face, even Wild has things he keeps to himself. Maybe it is just a coincidence, or a harmless secret—Link is just a name. He can let Time have this.

So long as it doesn’t impact the rest of them. And it won’t, because Time is good about that kind of thing, as good as he is with tracking minutes and seconds, as good as he is with his ocarina and his pipes and his guitar and his drums.

“Bomb shop up ahead, champion,” Time calls. “You can take a look if you don’t make me regret it.”

“Bomb shop!” Wild cries over Twilight’s frantic “What?!”, and he makes himself stop thinking about Anju and Link.

-

After they run through the shops, they find a new inn in West Clock Town, but there’s not a room to spare there either. Even Time’s interaction with the man who runs its counter isn’t exciting. 

“Time,” Twilight asks as they emerge back onto the streets, “is this place… I mean…” He stops, fangs digging into his bottom lip, like he’s not sure what he wants to say.

The sun is threatening to dip below the horizon and the first stars are beginning to show their faces. Time looks up into the clear sky and says, “Something the matter?”

Twilight clears his throat and decides on, “Can we get to Hyrule from here?”

Time puts a hand to his chin. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Wild snorts, since Legend isn’t here to do it.

Tearing his eye from the sky, Time sends him a neutral-disapproving look, but he’s got a much better resistance built up to that than Twilight does, thank you very much. Seeing this does nothing, Time sighs. “I know at least one man who seemed to travel back and forth between this place and Hyrule with some regularity, but… he was quite the mystical type. The only others I know to go between worlds are fairies and fairy children.”

“And you?” prompts Twilight, his eyes serious.

“I came here once and only once. The passage was itself magical, embedded somewhere in the depths of the Lost Woods. And I believe you both know how the Lost Woods can be.”

“So it just might not be there, huh.”

Time nods. “Even if it was, if we left now, we’d not make it anywhere near a good place to rest in time. Termina is much safer than those woods.”

The constant bustle and chatter means it can’t really get quiet in Clock Town, but for a second it comes close.

“You remember this place really well, for only having been here once,” says Wild. He's unable to hide the envy that runs beneath the words, and only kind of able to hide the embarrassment that comes at letting it slip. A comforting hand settles on his shoulder, and he puts on a smile for Twilight in thanks.

Time looks at them both. His face is unreadable.

“It was very formative, I suppose,” he finally replies. Then he turns back around and looks to the sky. A red star glitters far above them.

-

They reunite with the others on the gong of the great Clock Tower above. Wind and Warriors dismay over the lack of an inn as predicted. It's not that they can't camp out, it's just that they don't wanna. But they're all used to roughing it out by now, so the complaints don't end up going on for very long. Whatever. Even a little bit of fussing from the captain is enough to feed Wild for days. Legend too, probably. Wild's sure that's half the reason he keeps doing it; Warriors is better with people than he looks.

Twilight happily reunites with Epona outside the walls, and Time leads them back near the swamp so they can camp near the entrance. They stoke up a fire near a big tree stump. Wild cooks them all pilaf. Time gazes west to some kind of gate intermittently as he eats, and only stops when Twilight starts brushing Epona’s mane, because that occupies his attention instead.

They spend hours cleaning weapons and doing laundry. The sun disappears and the moon rises, its soft white light bathing the grass in a pleasant glow. The red star twinkles brighter than ever.

The noise of Clock Town still reaches them out here. It's so muffled and distant that Wild can't make out anything particularly distinct, but it's the sounds of people and construction and life. He wonders how far the noise of Castle Town used to reach. How loud must it have been? Maybe back then you'd hear Castle Town before you'd see it. Probably not, but it's nice to think. Maybe there were dancers and musicians in the streets like there are here, and their music would ring out into the fields. Maybe whoever lived at the ranch ruins that look eerily like Lon Lon would have been able to hear.

If he hadn't failed, hadn't doomed each and every home and family there to an early grave, he'd know. 

But he did. So he listens to Clock Town and grieves a life he practically didn't even live and a city he doesn't even remember.

When it comes to decide watches, Warriors takes first—”I’d be tossing and turning anyway,” he says, and Legend rolls his eyes and replies, “No you wouldn’t!”

Time takes second. Then he looks at Wild very intently.

“Why don’t I take third?” Wild says, not sure why he gives in, if he even is giving in. Feels like he is. “I can be up early to cook.”

Hyrule and Sky and Wind all exclaim in delight. Time sits back, satisfied.

Sleep comes, but not easily.

-

“…pion…”

Wild grumbles, shifting to his side.

“Champion…” the low voice continues. “Champion, wake up… Champion. Wild.”

A heavy hand on his shoulder—Time. Time, who’s on watch! Wild jolts awake. “What happened?” he exclaims, a hand flying to his Slate, fingers ready to summon his weapons.

The moonlight makes Time’s skin look strange and pale. The markings on his face seem so dark they’re nearly black. “Keep your voice down. Champion, come with me.”

Wild’s gaze flicks back and forth over the others, all splayed out across camp, not a hair out of place. Sky snores deeply, fully gone as is typical, but even the lightest of sleepers among them like Hyrule and Legend breathe deep and steady. No nightmares tonight. Wild looks beyond, out onto the field, his sharp eyes roving back and forth. Just grass. It doesn’t look like there are any monsters out in the distance, and there doesn’t seem to be any mark of magic or another disturbance here in the camp, so why is the old man so up-in-arms?

“What’s… what’s going on?” he repeats.

“Come,” Time says again.

A frantic note threatens to enter Wild’s voice, though he thinks he suppresses it. “That doesn’t explain anything. What’s going on? Should I wake the others?”

Time shakes his head. “I just need an archer.”

Hylia above, sometimes he wants to reach out and—

“Why?”

“I can explain on the way. It’s already one, champion. Come. We’ll be late.”

Late. Wild’s nervous because Time’s nervous, he realizes. He very rarely sees Time nervous. But this has to be it—the old man’s fingers are twitching at his sides, as if to curl into fists, and his good eye is completely unblinking.

“Old man, I’m serious. I’ll wake up Twilight," threatens Wild. "What’s up with you?”

A second ticks by. Then two. The grand clock of the Clock Tower doesn’t clunk along for seconds, but he swears he can still hear the one in the Inn somehow, dragging on in the back of his mind.

Time’s gaze at last wavers. He looks to Epona, who’s wide awake and tossing her mane, purest white under the light of the moon. He looks back at Wild, and if Wild wasn't so used to his perfectly neutral face, he might miss the miniscule furrow of his brow.

“A friend of mine might be in danger,” he finally says. “Down the road at the ranch. We can be there in forty-five minutes, if we both take Epona. Back in the same time. Back before your watch would end.”

Wild glances down at Twilight. His sort-of mentor rests his head on his pelt, his sleeping form shielded from the moonlight by the shadow of the tree stump. He’s Time’s protégé, and, well, nobody’s as good with a bow as Wild, but Twilight’s as close as it gets. Twilight’s the rancher of the group, too. Why not wake him?

Is this a trap?

No. The Shadow wouldn't try something like this. Wild shakes his head, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. But if Time needs help, it makes no sense for him to come to Wild of all people, and to do it so cagily. Wild's not exactly known for his subtlety (though he resents that; he's a great sneak) and he's not known for his impulse control, either.

“I will go whether you come or not,” Time says, perhaps in some effort to reassert his authority, but the strain to his voice is all too apparent now. He takes a noticeable breath. “But I would like a good archer with me.”

Wild glances back at Twilight. He itches to reach out, his fingers twitching, too.

But Time’s face—Time’s voice. They’re subtle changes, and that’s enough, because Wild’s seen the old man shocked and seen him perplexed and seen him amused, but he’s never seen him afraid, hardly seen even a hint of fear. The only time he's ever gotten close was when Twilight was sick, and even then any fear he held was carefully trapped behind a mask of steel. But there’s nothing else that this can be.

Wild closes his fist. “I’ll come. I have bows in the Slate.”

It’s done.

Time doesn’t even bother with the armor, which confounds Wild even more. He takes his bag and his great bow and his quiver, then he’s marching over to Epona, and Wild follows, his heart thumping like a Blupee in his chest. Time runs a gentle hand through her mane and whispers to her. At least he's still gentle; that's familiar, and familiarity slackens the knot that'd Wild's belly had tied itself into. Time mounts Epona and Wild follows behind.

“Let’s go,” Time says, and snaps her reins.

She’s off like a shot into the night. Wild glances behind them, but the rest of the camp remains undisturbed by her thundering hooves, all seven boys still sound asleep. They’ve all slept through some crazy things, but—he doesn’t know what he’s thinking. Time’s making him afraid because Time is never afraid and now his mind is running wild.

Epona takes them through the gate Time had been eyeing earlier and down a path through small hills. As Wild tilts his head back to let the breeze run through his hair, some desperate attempt to calm his nerves, he looks into the sky.

The red star isn’t where it was before. It looks closer now, brighter. Wild squints.

“Hurry, girl,” Time urges, so quiet Wild’s sure he’s not meant to hear it.

The path starts to rise up and up, and buildings come into view: small houses, their silhouettes pitch black against the night sky. Epona runs faster and faster. Fences, now, too, and the hills collapse into wide-open fields. Wild starts scanning for potential enemies. What could be out here? What could Time possibly mean by danger that only an archer could deal with?

“Who’s there?!”

The voice nearly makes Wild’s blood freeze. 

“Malon?” he asks.

But Time says, “No.” He squeezes Epona with his legs, and she falls into a trot, then slows for them to dismount. Time goes first, but Wild hesitates. He's not sure if it’s safe to leave her on her own here.

“Who are you?!” the voice demands again.

Without Time's larger frame in the way, Wild can finally see its source. He’s not sure what in Hylia’s name Time is thinking, because it’s Malon. It can't be anyone else but her. Her fiery red hair, her white and blue dress, her wide eyes—they’re all exactly the same. The only strange things about her are the torch she’s holding in one hand, the bow strapped onto her back, and the furious tilt to her brow.

That's his wife! What does he mean, Wild wonders, saying it's not Malon?

She takes a threatening step closer, waving her torch. “Romani is armed, and I will defend my property!”

Time lifts both hands in surrender. After a moment, Wild does, too, because he’s completely at a loss.

Malon takes another step, then another, until the light from the torch illuminates him, Time, and Epona all at once. Wild blinks hard against it. She glances at the horse, at Wild, and finally at Time. Her other hand moves closer to her bow.

“My name is Link,” Time says.

“Link,” Malon repeats. She scowls. “That’s a strange name.”

“Right. A strange name indeed. You used to call me Grasshopper.”

Wild looks back and forth between them, incredulous.

Malon frowns. “Grasshopper?” she murmurs. Her free hand comes up to touch her face.

“I know about Them,” says Time, quickly but carefully. “I know They’re coming.”

Who? Who’s coming? Wild wonders, a tad maniacal.

“Grasshopper… Grasshopper…” she says, her eyes cast down to the ground.

“I helped you, once.” Time takes a step closer to Malon. “We were both kids back then, so you might’ve forgotten, but I helped you chase Them off. And the next day, your sister—”

“Grasshopper!” she exclaims, snapping her fingers. She points at him. “You! You used to wear green! Green and a bunny hood!”

Somehow, this cracks the tension in half. A smile dawns on Time’s face. This has to be Malon, despite the complete incomprehensibility of the conversation Wild is witnessing, because he has never seen Time smile like that around anyone else. “Yes,” Time says, relief clear in his voice. “I did.”

“You saved Romani Ranch way back when there was all that hubbub about the moon.” Malon sways in place, nodding to herself. “Yes… Romani remembers now. And you remember, too! You’re here to stop Them again! But we were so little then. It’s been so long. Why now?”

“I was in town for the Carnival,” Time says lowly. “I remembered Them, and I just couldn’t forget.”

“Neither can Romani.”

For a second there’s another unfamiliar look on Time’s face, one that Wild recognizes only from his own expressions, one of distinct pain. Then it’s gone. Wild feels as though he’s intruding again. The quiet on this ranch is like the quiet of the wilderness, nothing like Clock Town—it practically sinks into his bones. The grass swallows up noise. The red star throbs with light. 

“Who’s your friend, Grasshopper?” Malon says after a long pause.

Time gladly takes the distraction. “I didn’t get a chance to tell him much about Them, but he’s here to help,” he assures her. “His name is also Link, if you’d believe it.”

“Romani believes a lot more than most,” she reminds him, wandering over to Epona’s side. “But we already know Link is a strange name, so I'll give you another one. How about…” She squints up at Wild in the torchlight and purses her lips. “Bluejay! Yes, since you wear blue, and you seem like you're light as a bird compared to Grasshopper over there!”

Well, Wild has been called stranger things. “…Okay.”

“Great!” she cheers. “And I'm Romani, if he didn’t introduce me.”

Huh. He should have put that one together. 

Guess she really… she really isn’t Malon, just some Terminian woman who happens to look and sound exactly like her. The thought is ridiculous. But Wild is quick to remind himself that he’s travelling with eight other people named Link, all of whom are similar but not the same, one of whom is right next to him. He decides he probably doesn’t get to judge if this is ridiculous or not, no matter how much he might want to.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says instead of any of that. “I am a pretty good shot, so I should be helpful. I think. Even though I still don’t really know what’s going on.” He accompanies those last few words by directing a side-eye at Time.

It’s not as good as the old man’s neutral-disappointed face, but it gets the point across. Time concedes with a tilt of the head. 

“Oh, Romani will tell you," Romani interjects. "Tonight is the night They come to the ranch.”

"…Who're They?"

Romani’s eyes are wider than Malon’s, now that Wild’s really looking. It might be the night doing its work, but they suddenly seem darker, too. “Soon… it’s really soon, now. They come down from the skies as one and They march on Romani Ranch… And then They come to the barn for Romani’s cows…”

Wild blinks. “They steal your cows?”

Romani’s expression goes faraway. “Our precious cows are how we survive… so I’ve gotten better at fending Them off… but still, sometimes They…” 

To Wild’s horror, she starts to tremble. Her blue-black eyes stare right through him.

Immediately he feels a horrible, unpleasant kind of recognition: her face makes him think of the times he’s gotten dragged into a memory where he can see his own reflection, of watching his own face go slack helplessly as the past washes over him. 

“They… They…”

“Romani,” Time murmurs.

The red star flares angrily.

“They… I…”

She whimpers and clutches at her head with her free hand. Time is at her side in an instant, wrapping an arm around her. “Hey, it’s all right,” he says. His voice is impossibly soft and warm—he’s never comforted the boys like that. “It’s all right now. We’ll fend Them off. It’s all right.”

His thumb moves in slow circles on her hip. Wild’s eyes linger there. He knows Romani needs it, but this feels too intimate for someone Time hasn’t seen in years. Like this is how he would comfort his wife. 

Romani isn’t his wife.

Romani stops shaking. Her white-knuckled grip on her hair slackens. Her free hand falls back to her side, and the one holding the torch is steady again.

“Sorry,” she breathes. “Romani doesn’t know where I go, sometimes…”

Wild’s heart cracks. “That’s okay,” he says quietly.

“Thank you, Bluejay, Grasshopper…”

At the name, Time properly jolts. He pulls his arm back to his side in an instant, cursing so softly Wild almost thinks he imagined it. Usually Time collects himself as soon as he wants to, and it puts a weird feeling in Wild’s chest watching him struggle to do it, watching the emotions that flicker across his face rapid-fire until he can finally smooth it into a calm mask. “Are you well now, Romani?” he asks.

She smiles. It’s the same as Malon’s in every way. “Romani is right as rain,” she assures him.

“Your sister still doesn’t believe you? Even when the cows go missing?”

Romani’s smile flickers and dies. “Nobody believes Romani. Even my husband—he just humors me. They all think it’s a coincidence when the cows go, since I usually save most of them…” It springs back onto her face, but it’s sad, now. “Most everyone thinks something went wrong with me that year with the moon. That I just never got over it. No matter how hard I try…”

Time’s face stays smooth, but his voice cracks with grief. “I’m so sorry.”

Wild doesn’t think Time would bring him here so urgently if They weren’t real, but he decides then and there that he doesn’t even really care. Romani might not be Malon, but he doesn’t care about that either—he’s going to do whatever it takes to wipe that horrible sad smile off of her face. Nobody deserves to feel like that: like they’re broken, like their mind and body are lying to them, like their memories are all wrong.

He wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone else.

“We’re going to help, Miss Romani,” he says, and he summons as much heroic confidence to bolster the words as he possibly can. “We won’t let Them lay a single finger on your cows.”

Romani lifts her gaze to him, and though it takes a moment, eventually her sad smile widens into something real. “Those are some awful big words, Bluejay. I hope you’re good enough with that bow to live up to them!” she replies playfully.

“Trust me,” Time says before Wild even gets a chance. “He is.”

Time told him earlier that he was a good archer, sure, but Wild honestly thought he was just buttering him up, given the weird circumstances. Now, the surprising words make Wild feel all warm inside.

Agh. He has got to stop hanging around that rancher. He’s practically turning into him.

“They will appear all over the ranch,” Romani instructs them. “There’s this great big ball of light—you’ll know it as soon as you see it. All you have to do is shoot, because nothing else works. Romani will stay close to the barn and fend off the ones that get closest. I have more arrows there, too, if you need it. Grasshopper, Bluejay, you try to stop Them from getting close to begin with!”

“We’ll do our very best,” Time says.

“They won’t know what hit Them,” agrees Wild. 

He still doesn’t know who or what They are, exactly, but after Romani’s episode, he’ll do whatever it takes to stop Them. He has a feeling that just watching cows get stolen isn’t enough to make somebody react like that. They must have done something to her—something terrible. Something awful enough to make Time of all people frantic. So Wild’ll show Them no mercy.

“They’ll vanish at the first light of day, so hold out until then, okay?” Romani sends them another smile. “Romani will head to the barn now. Take your positions!”

They watch her head back up the hill, the light of her torch going with her. Soon enough they’re left in the dark. 

Epona whinnies and Wild reaches out to brush his fingers through her mane. He wonders if she’s unsettled, too. “How long until…?” he asks.

“Soon. Last time it was half past two.”

He can’t even hear Romani’s footsteps anymore, though he stares after her, watching the torch bob with her steps. Crickets chirp, filling the dead air that sits between him and Time.

“Are you okay?” he blurts.

Time looks at him—really looks at him, searching. “I’m fine now,” he finally replies. “I was… worried for Romani, that’s all. But I have no doubt that together, we will be more than enough to keep her safe.”

Something definitely happened to her. Maybe even on Time’s watch.

How old was Time when they first met? Romani made it sound like it was a long time ago, but Wild doesn’t even know how old Time is now. He could’ve already been with Malon when it happened, could’ve watched something horrible happen to a woman who was practically his wife, could’ve had to carry that guilt around for years. Could’ve let her slip between his fingers, like Wild did to—

Wild catches himself.

“Take Epona,” Time instructs. “You’re better on horseback than I—though you’d do well to pretend I never told you that.” He does that sort-of wink again, and Wild has to laugh, if only in incredulity at how quickly he shifted the mood. “The barn is up where Romani was walking, near the treeline on the left side. You head left, I head right. Any objections?”

“You’re sure you don’t want to go left?”

Time nods. “You’re the best marksman I know, champion. I want you to make use of it.”

Wild nods in turn, and slides himself further up Epona’s back. “Shout if you need me, old man,” he says. “If not, see you at dawn.” 

He snaps her reins, and they’re off again. Time waves once at him as he goes. In no time, he brings the horse to a stop in the middle of the fields. He can still barely see the outline of Time on one side, slowly shrinking as the man marches into the fields himself, and on the other he can see Romani’s torch and what must be the barn. It casts her in light, but he can’t make out her face.

The crickets have gone quiet, he realizes.

Epona shifts her weight nervously. He imagines the Inn clock again, seconds ticking away. He pats her side and soothes her, thinking, tick, tick, tick.

Does Time have that in his mind all the time?

Tick, tick, tick.

He’s got to.

Tick—

The red star falls from the sky. Wild straightens immediately. It careens down like every other falling star Wild has seen, a brilliant beam of light trailing behind it. Then it simply stops above the ground. It flashes red-orange. The light grows and grows until it’s so bright that Wild has to close his eyes, and then it vanishes.

When Wild opens his eyes next, They’ve arrived.

He understands why Time and Romani didn’t tell him what They were as soon as he lays eyes on Them. They aren’t anything he knows. He doesn’t know if They’re anything anyone knows. They look closest to those Poes the others have, but not quite. Too corporeal, with spade-shaped bodies striped purple and black and long, long, gangly arms. And Their eyes—huge saucer things, bright yellow, emitting beams of light. 

One of Them turns Their eyes on him. His bow is in his hands in a second, and in the next he’s pierced Them with a perfect shot. They shriek, toppling backwards and vanishing in a flash.

Well, that wasn’t so hard. He relaxes slightly, taking aim at the next nearest one and firing in the same breath. They’re everywhere, but They’re slow-moving, and make no attempt to dodge his fire. He takes down five before he even has to get Epona moving.

He sees the same thing as he rides; beams of light blinking out on the far field and further up near the barn, Time and Romani doing their work. He urges Epona along a little faster, clearing more on his side with a few shots.

There’s a weird droning in his skull.

What starts as relief turns, slowly and painfully, into dismay. They might be easy to take down, but They’re persistent. They just don’t stay away. Each one he kills only pops up again a few minutes later in another spot, or perhaps it’s just another one of Them—They all look identical. And They move slowly, but They don’t ever stop moving, not even for a second.

Wild is reminded of hunting. He's a good hunter. He's been hunted, too. For the most part, only monsters are able to hunt Hylians. Animals just can’t cut it. There are animals that are faster than Hylians, that are sneakier, that are far more deadly, but there are none that have a Hylian’s endurance. To avoid a hungry bear or a ravenous pack of wolves, Wild—then Link—simply had to walk away long enough that they gave up.

Seems that’s Their plan, too. But, Wild reminds himself, sunlight. He just has to hold out until sunrise and hope that Time and Romani do the same.

It’s exhausting. The more time creeps by, the more Wild feels aches in his shoulders and back, feels pain begin to blossom in his fingers. He has excellent form, but he doesn’t usually shoot for hours non stop. 

If They won’t stop, he won’t, either. That look on Romani’s face, so like his own, makes his stomach churn.

If he feels a little more satisfaction than he should when he shoots down the next one, nobody has to know.

The stars creep across the sky agonizingly slowly. Wild draws, aims, fires, draws, aims, fires, draws, aims, fires again. And again, and again. A hint of orange is coloring the sky now. The sun still hides its face. At least Epona seems to thrive. What he would give to put his bow down for just a second, but—

A shriek pierces the air. Romani. 

His heart plummeting, he turns Epona around as fast as he can and charges up the hill to the barn. To where Romani stands, paralyzed, in the beams of light from one of Them. Her bow lies on the ground at her feet, and her eyes have gone as wide as Theirs, her face twisted in horror. They reach out Their spindly arms and her feet lift off of the ground, and Wild goes for his bow though he knows he should get closer because he also knows, somehow, that if They get her in the air, she’s not coming back. Malon probably screams just like that.

His fingers hurt. His shoulder aches when he draws the bow. It all falls away as he focuses, the world grinding to a halt. He thinks of the Inn clock grinding loudly to a stop. He thinks of Them dead. 

He fires, and makes it happen.

Malon—no, Romani’s feet hit the ground again. She inhales a terribly sharp breath and nearly falls over herself getting her bow back in her hands. “Oh, Goddess of Time,” she half-gasps out. Her trembling fingers finally close around the grip.

“Miss Romani?” Wild calls.

She forces her eyes to meet his. “Thanks,” she says with a quivering smile, “but it’s not over yet! We can’t let up!”

“Romani!”

Epona rears anxiously at Time’s voice, a shout of a sort Wild has almost never heard from him. How did he even get here so fast? But he’s here. His bow dangles loosely in one hand, and the other hovers near his chest, and the look on his face—it’s dangerous. Both of his eyes are open. His white eye glows in the moonlight. 

“Bluejay, go,” Romani says.

Wild’s eyes dart between them, but the alternative is one of Them coming back for her, or for them all, and he can’t let that happen. He gently urges Epona back into a trot and swings back behind the barn to make sure none of Them are there to pounce while Time and Romani are distracted.

There are. He breathes in deep. He'll deal with that.

“Bluejay saved me,” says Romani. Her voice is still trembling, but the farm is so eerily quiet that he can hear it perfectly. “Romani overreacted, anyway… It’s okay, Grasshopper.”

“You didn’t overreact.” Time sounds like someone else, filled with grave certainty. “Romani—”

“Romani’s okay. You were right! He has great aim. He got Them from so far away. It was kind of cool…”

She still sounds rattled. Wild channels his fury into shooting down another two of Them and brings Epona around the other side of the house. He’s not sure how anyone in there is sleeping through this.

“That’s good,” Time says after a moment. He sounds more familiar now. Resigned. “Perhaps it’d be better to stick closer together.”

Romani looks at him, and though she looks so much like Malon, at this moment her emotions are so much harder for Wild to parse. “That’s fine with Romani,” she finally says. “Dawn’s coming soon, anyway…”

“Wild!” Time calls, and Wild goes.

They circle much tighter around the barn this time. Romani is a good shot, too, and soon enough it’s almost as easy to work around her as it is with Time. The fear that her scream put in him still lingers, though. Her scream and that terrible dark look on Time’s face. The rhythmic motions of aiming and firing have become so rote that they can’t even distract him from that.

He does it anyway. For her, for Time.

By the end of it all, his whole body feels like one big ache. But the sun rises unimpeded on a new day. With its light, They shriek and vanish for good, taking Their red star with Them, and suddenly it's as if They were never there at all.

Wild nearly collapses onto Epona with relief. He’s never been more eager to stow his bow in his Slate. He’s amazed he didn’t break it, but it is new…

“We won! Thank the Goddess of Time!” Romani exclaims, setting her own bow down and wiping at her sweaty face. The daylight has brought life back into her. She seems to glow with pride.

Even Time’s shoulders relax.

Wild brings Epona around to the front of the barn and hops off of her to give her a break, patting her side in thanks. “Are the cows all safe, Miss Romani?” he asks.

“Yep! All thanks to you two.” She briefly opens the door of the barn and smiles inside at the sleepy cattle. She shuts it again and frowns. “Oh, if only Romani knew you were coming… I would’ve prepared some milk as thanks!”

“That’s all right,” Time interjects. “We’re glad to see you safe, is all.”

Not that Wild isn't glad to see Romani safe (he sure is), but he has a feeling that Time was using the royal we, there.

Romani worries at her nails. “Well, it just doesn’t feel right… Tell you what. Romani has to deliver milk to Mr. Barten tonight at 6. I’ll set some aside for you, if you want to come find me. Deal?”

“Deal,” Wild says. He has no idea who Mr. Barten is, but Time is bound to, and Time probably would have said no if Wild had let him.

The look he flashes Wild confirms that hypothesis. Still immune, old man.

“Great!” Romani says, clapping her hands together. “Romani should get back to the house… My husband and my sister will worry if they see I’m missing. But if you’re still in town tonight, I’ll see you then!” She gathers her bow and her quiver, takes a few steps, and turns back to look at them. “Thank you, Bluejay. …Grasshopper.”

She and Time look at each other for another moment. She smiles, and he smiles, but both of them seem a little bit pained. Wild smiles too and bows his head so he doesn’t have to try and parse that. When he looks back up, Romani disappears into her house, the door swinging shut behind her.

The crickets are still gone. The birds have started to sing, though. 

“I guess she took over for her sister,” Time says, half to himself. He straightens and his mask of steel falls back into place as easily as if he’d never let it crack. But Wild’s seen something new underneath it now, something that he can still feel when Time faces him. “Well, champion? Shall we?”

“I’m gonna need an explanation for all this eventually, I think, old man,” he finally says. “Not everything. Just, something. Anything.”

In his humble opinion, dragging someone out of bed to go fight whatever They are for three hours counts as affecting the rest of them, and that’s the point where secrets start to have a real cost. If there’s something about this place that’s wrong, that’s dark, that Time can’t handle, then Wild has to know. Or at least Twilight or someone else who’s closer to the man than Wild is does.

None of them can do this alone. That’s why the Goddess brought them together to begin with.

A heavy sigh escapes Time, but not a disappointed one. It is just another sign of resignation. “You’ve every right to, after I woke you like that. Give me a few minutes to sort out my thoughts. I’ll tell you on the way back.”

Wild's not surprised that he gives in so easily. Even Time knows—no, Time probably knows better than anybody that losing his iron control has consequences.

“I hope they’re still asleep,” Wild says as acceptance. “I don’t have a good excuse for us up and vanishing like that.”

Time’s wan smile stretches across his mask. “I do,” he replies. “Have you ever heard of a Takkuri?”

-

Epona still isn’t tired, at least. After so much time having to match their walking pace, she seems a little happy to get to run around. As the sun rises over Termina, the only sounds are the pounding of her hooves, the rustling of grass, and the chirping of morning birds.

Time sits in front of him again and gently guides her down the path. Positioned like this, Wild can’t see his face.

“I suppose you’re wondering why she looks like Malon,” Time finally says. “Romani.”

Well, that is far from Wild’s only question. But he doesn’t want to push too hard too fast, so he says, “Um, it surprised me, yeah.”

“Termina’s an alternate world to Hyrule. A mirror image, though far from an exact one. You might’ve noticed some other familiar faces from my Hyrule in Clock Town.”

“Not any in particular, but I think I… I guess I subconsciously did. It feels weird here.”

Time lets out a dry laugh. “That’s because it is,” he agrees bluntly. “My knowledge is very limited, to be frank, but I speculate Hyrule and Termina were made by the same goddesses, long, long ago. We share the same foundation—we just took very different paths.”

Wild blinks at Time’s back. 

“Sounds familiar,” he says before he can help himself.

“Hm,” Time concedes.

“Do you have Them in your Hyrule too, then?”

Time sits back a little. “Malon says she sees things at night, sometimes. Things that come for the cows.”

“Really?” Wild prompts.

“I have my doubts.” He sounds almost guilty for a second. “But if They’re in Hyrule, They’re much less vicious than They are here. That I am sure of.”

Vicious. That’s a strong word for such benign things, but Wild can’t help but agree. They didn’t lay a finger on him or Epona, but the memory of Romani caught in their beams of light, the terror on her face, chills him to the core.

“Did They,” he starts, then bites his tongue. Yeah, he or Twilight or Warriors or somebody ought to know a little about Termina, about Them, if it’s going to cause incidents like this, but that’s pushing far enough. Asking any more would be squarely leaving the realm of only sharing secrets that affect the group.

“Did They what?”

Wild ducks his head. “Nevermind.”

Time looks over his shoulder. “Speak, champion. If I don’t want to tell you, I won’t.”

Wild resolutely stares at the ground under Epona’s hooves. Unfamiliar flowers bloom near the edges of the road. He wonders how much Hyrule really changed after the Calamity. He wonders if any of the flowers he plucked from the fields didn’t exist before.

There’s so much he doesn’t know. There’s so much life he stole from the champions, from the citizens of Castle Town, from Zelda, from the Link that he used to be.

“Did They do something to her? Romani?”

Time looks ahead again. His shoulders are tense. For a long moment Wild thinks he’ll say nothing, which would be worse than saying he doesn’t want to answer. But Time looks up to the clear sky, painted gold by the rising sun, and says, “I believe so, yes.”

Wild’s stomach sinks.

“I don’t know what. Frankly, I cannot—can't imagine what. But They’re relentless, as you’ve seen, and I could only be here to help her once. Perhaps to Them, there’s no distinction between capturing a little girl and a cow.”

Where would They even take a cow, or a little girl? What could They even do? Time can’t imagine it, but Wild decides then and there that he doesn’t want to.

But, if Romani was a little girl, a persistent voice in the back of his mind wonders, how young was Time?

“I don’t mean,” Wild starts, stops. He wets his lips. “I more meant, did They do something to her while you were here?”

The silence that follows is excruciating.

Epona merrily keeps moving, unaffected by the mood of her two riders. How nice that must be. The beat of Epona’s hooves fills the silence, rhythmic, but Wild can’t focus on anything except the beating of his own heart.

Time finally answers, “Yes.”

Wild doesn’t know what to say.

All the guilt he must carry—does carry. Wild sees it in the stiffness of his shoulders, the hard set of his jaw, like himself when he puts on the mask of the hero and goes quiet. That’s the kind of regimented posture that only comes from putting in so, so much effort to hold yourself together. The nervousness under his skin when he woke Wild. And his despair when They almost took her; that wasn't just because she’s like Malon, but because he’d let it happen before. 

That year with the moon, Romani said.

“Time…”

Abruptly Time squeezes Epona’s sides and she slows into a trot. Wild startles.

“Care to keep a secret, champion?” says Time, staring directly ahead. His tone gives nothing away.

“I keep plenty already,” Wild replies. “We all do.”

Time looks over his shoulder as if to judge the truthfulness of that. But Wild means every word. Something in his face must give that away, because Time, though his own face does not change, nods, and turns back around.

“The first time I was here,” he says. “I had three days to fight that great evil I told you about. But it was immensely powerful, and I, quite weak. I had to free the four gods that protected this land if I wanted to fend it off.”

“Was it the moon?” Wild asks.

Time looks back at him again, his eye wide in surprise. “Yes,” he says. “Ah, I suppose Romani did mention it.”

“I kind of thought you were joking.” He looks up to the beautiful golden sky. “It was still here at night, though?”

A shrug. “The moon itself wasn’t the evil—it was being possessed. The evil caused trouble for a lot of people around here like that. Infecting the land, stealing things, tricking people, splitting them apart… No, They weren’t part of that,” he adds at the look on Wild’s face. “They’ve been here a long while and will be here a long while more. But I had to help Romani deal with Them, and deal with all the evils that had been brought unto this land myself, and free the four gods, all in three days.”

That sounds like a nightmare. It’d taken Wild months to free the Divine Beasts. “How did you manage that?” he asks. “Did you even sleep?”

As he is wont to do, Time dodges the second question. To the first, he replies, “I went back in time.”

Ah. “Six days still seems like a crunch.”

“Precisely. So I did it again. I lived those three days on repeat until I could live them flawlessly. I helped every person I could, I freed the four gods, and I slayed the great evil. But in learning how to do it—” Time’s fingers tighten on Epona’s reigns. “Romani needed me at the ranch at two-thirty on the first day. But there were so many other places that needed me, too, all at once. So there were simply cycles where I couldn't help.”

“And They…”

“Took her, yes. They brought her back each time, but she was always different afterwards. She sat outside and would clutch at her head and thrash. She’d mumble to herself. She remembered her sister and my name, but not much else, it seemed. Certainly not Them.”

Wild sinks his teeth into his lip hard enough to hurt.

“I never knew if it was because They did something to her memory on purpose or if she was just in too much pain to recall it all,” Time adds. His voice is venom. “As long as I live, I won’t forget that sight.”

In the quiet of dawn Wild scrambles for his own voice. He worries he might have lost it like he sometimes does, but he manages to gather it enough to croak, “That’s horrible.”

“So it is.” Seconds tick by, and suddenly Time’s body loosens again, like a puppet with its strings suddenly cut. “No. Forgive me, champion," he says, one hand coming up to scrub at his face, the side with the markings. "I’m afraid that I'm not myself today. That was far too heavy a burden to put on you.”

Wild hesitates for a moment. Time’s not big on physical contact, but he’s not big on sharing what he feels, either, and yet here they both are. Wild sets a hand on his shoulder and hopes it’s somewhat soothing. 

Time inhales, but doesn’t pull away.

“It’s not—it’s not too much. It’s probably the least I could do, honestly. You guys look out for me whenever I get my memories back, even when it causes trouble, don’t you?”

And his mind causes trouble for him far too often. They’ve all been through their fair share of things, but Wild is the only one who’s so consistently weak: seeing things that aren’t there, freezing up when he’s needed, letting the smallest things turn his mood sour. He’s sure before he died he wasn’t so frail. Just another thing about him that came back wrong. No, he can’t hold one bad night against Time when that’s the burden he makes the rest of them shoulder every day.

Time shakes his head. “That’s something you can’t help. I’d hoped it was well established that it doesn’t make you any less one of us. No one—”

“Holds it against me, yeah, yeah, I know.” Wild’s heard it all before, and it doesn’t really matter right now. They’re talking about Time, not him, and he’s not gonna let the old man distract him from that. “I’m just saying I’m not in any position to complain. I mean, even if I was, it wouldn’t matter. We did a good thing. That’s our job as heroes, isn’t it?”

“It was unkind of me to disturb you.”

Wild’s hand slips off of his shoulder. “I would’ve caused a scene if I woke up and you were missing. Or I would’ve woken up Twilight and he would’ve caused a scene.” 

Though Time probably considered and planned around that. He glances over his shoulder again and arches a brow. “I’m beginning to think you aren’t interested in my apology,” he says dryly.

Wild smiles nervously. “Uh, no, not really. Miss Romani needed help and you needed to help her. And I know—I think I know what it feels like to…”

The words never come as easily with Time as they do with someone like Twilight or Hyrule. His sympathy sticks in his throat. 

It’d probably be cruel for him to insinuate he and Time are the same. Time was stuck in an awful situation, living three days on loop, doing whatever he could to save this place, and in the end it worked: Romani said he saved her, and at night the moon had shone an innocent white in the sky. Wild had no such reasons for failing the way he did, no do-overs to win the end. He just failed. Killing Calamity Ganon was vengeance at best. It wasn’t the same.

“I think of her more often than I should,” Time says to the air after another painful pause. “She only remembers being saved, but I still can't forget.”

“Forgetting doesn’t do much good, either,” Wild mutters ruefully. The gaps in his memory of the Calamity, of what happened to him after the Master Sword told Zelda to put him to sleep, invite his mind to go to some dark places. He can’t count the number of awful nights he’s woken from dreams that danced the line between reality and fiction, his own real failures and fabrication.

Time sighs. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t.” He waits to speak again long enough that Wild starts to fret that he’d spoken way out of turn. “I’d hoped, selfishly,” he finally says, “that helping her again would put my mind at ease.”

“…Has it?”

Wild’s almost certain he knows the answer. He knows what his answer would be in Time’s place. To his shock, though, Time tilts his head, considering it, and says, “In a way.”

“Really?”

“I’m certain now that my memories of those failures will never leave me. But it settled something in me, I believe, to see Romani alive and well, and to help her again.” Time runs a hand through Epona’s mane. “I know you’re not very interested in my apologies, but still, I am sorry that you had to see me in such a state. Now that that’s settled, there shouldn’t be any more issues like it.”

“I told you, I don’t care,” says Wild. His voice sounds childish to his own ears. “If… If I had the chance to do the same, I would.”

“Didn’t you?” Time asks.

Didn’t he. 

Wild tsks, looking away. For all his reservations, Time has a brutal way of cutting right to the heart of things. “It wasn’t the same,” he murmurs, "the Calamity.”

“I think it is. You don’t want to go back to the past, do you?” The faint note of derision almost makes Wild bite back on instinct, but Time keeps talking. “After all, that’s what I did. And I just told you I never forgot a second of my failures.”

Now it was Wild’s turn to have nothing to say. He’d indulged in so many daydreams about what it would have been like to go back ever since they had that discussion about Time’s successors, daydreams of saving the Champions, saving Zelda, killing the Calamity. But even if he somehow did, Time’s right—he’d be burdened with the knowledge that he failed to begin with. And though he’s loath to admit it, he hardly even knows the Champions, no matter how many nights he dreams of them, so who says his fantasies would be anything like reality?

If he went back, he’d have to leave everyone he has now behind, too. Sidon, Yunobo, Riju, Teba and Tulin… Zelda. Even the other Links. They’d probably all haunt him in their own way, just like the Champions do now.

“There’s no winning, is there?”

He doesn’t hear Time laugh, but the old man’s shoulders shake with silent mirth. “No, champion,” Time says, and it’s his turn to be rueful. “We hold the memories close and we do what we can.”

He wonders if seeing Romani for Time was like seeing each of the Champions’ ghosts had been. A brief reunion, doomed to end so soon, but one that calmed something in Wild’s storm of a mind anyway. Even though he couldn’t—shouldn’t go back, even though he’s so happy they finally moved on and found peace, what he wouldn’t do for one more look…

He waits. Then, he breathes in. 

“Hey, old man?”

“Mm?”

“That woman at the inn. Er… you knew her too, didn’t you? You must’ve done something pretty nice for her to name her kid after you.”

It’s a big swing, but he doesn’t miss. Time sighs, but he almost sounds amused this time. “I forget how perceptive you are sometimes.”

“That’s a yes?”

A nod. “Of course.” He sounds wistful. “Anju and her husband were torn apart by that great evil just a few days before their wedding. He’d been cursed into the form of a child and had a mask he needed for the wedding ceremony stolen from him. I went to great lengths to reunite them.” When he looks back at Wild, his mask is gone. He’s smiling, a surprisingly gentle expression. “They were a lovely couple. So devoted to each other,” he muses. “I was surprised they remembered me at all.”

“Why?” Wild balks. “You saved their marriage. Who could forget that?”

Time’s face shutters somewhat. “Ah, I suppose I’m just not used to it,” he says, keeping his tone pleasant.

Wild’s not sure he has time or skill to get into all of that, especially since he, Twilight, Wind, and Warriors all very much seem to have known of Time’s heroics before they met him, so he decides not to engage. “That’s why you acted like you didn’t know her, huh.”

“It surprised me,” Time echoes, and he faces forwards again. “And… well, this is not where I belong. You and I both know I can't stay. It would be wrong to stir up so many emotions and disappear again the next day, or perhaps even the next hour…”

Wild opens his mouth.

“Romani was in danger,” Time adds, as if he can hear Wild’s thoughts. “That made things different.”

Wild closes his mouth. Okay, then.

They both fall quiet again. The sun is rising higher and higher now, but thankfully their camp is in view. It’s too far away for Wild to make out if anyone’s stirred yet.

Time definitely won’t want to be bothered with this once they make it back. In fact, he’ll probably spend today pretending the night never even happened.

“Hey, listen,” Wild says, because he has to make these last few minutes count. “I can’t tell you what to do, but… if you don’t talk to Anju while you have the chance, you might spend a long time regretting it. Romani, too.” His voice lowers until it’s almost inaudible. “I know I would.”

Time lowers his head. “I know, champion,” he says firmly. “But I’ll come to my own decision. It’s been a long night.”

“All right,” Wild says.

He thinks of all the things he could have said to the Champions if he’d had even half of the memories he does now, and he looks up into the golden sky.

-

Legend’s awake when they get back. They feed him the story about the thieving bird monster, which is just ridiculous enough that it could be true. Wild thinks he doesn’t do a half-bad job selling it—”I mean, I’ve never let anything get close to my Slate,” he whisper-yells, “and some bird just shows up and…?!”—but Legend’s a cynic.

“You have a magic bag just like the rest of us, cook,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “If you used that more often, you’d only get one thing stolen, and not literally your entire arsenal. Ever think about that?”

“No, because I don’t anticipate thieving birds,” grumbles Wild. “Anyway, the Slate’s—”

“More familiar, yadda yadda. More excuses.” Legend checks his nails to convey his disinterest. He probably got that from Warriors, though if Wild mentions that, the veteran is bound to cause a scene that’ll wake up the whole camp. “You never listen to any of us anyway.”

Wild shrugs. “Hey, it’s gotten me this far.”

Time settles back on the other side of camp, busying himself with setting down his bow and his quiver. Legend glances meaningfully at him, then at Wild, and raises an eyebrow.

It’s fine, Wild signs. Promise.

They hold eye contact for a moment. 

Finally, Legend nods and breaks it. “Whatever,” he says. “Are you gonna get started on food or not? I’m starving.”

-

They spend the day exploring, searching for any hints of the Shadow. It’s still as tricky as ever. They’ve all speculated on its plan (and on if it even has one) a hundred times over by now, and never once come remotely close to an agreement. Sometimes they can jump Hyrules—or Terminas, now that they’re here—without seeing a sign of it at all.

Wild thinks those times might be the Goddess Hylia’s work, though he keeps that to himself.

Termina is shaping up to be one of those times. They find no leads as the day wears on, and agree to head back to Clock Town for some nice food and so they can sleep near relative safety.

“It all feels so familiar,” Hyrule tells Wild as they head back towards town. “If you told me it was another Hyrule, I feel like I’d believe you, but the air here…”

“It’s weird,” Legend interjects.

Wild almost laughs at him echoing his earlier conversation with Time, but the thought of Time distracts him again. He’s up front with Warriors. As expected, he spent all of today pretending like that whole incident with Romani never even happened. Wild’s followed in his stead, but he can’t help but worry.

He wishes he could still hear the ticking of the clock in his mind. He doesn’t think it’s six yet, but he doesn’t know, and it frustrates him.

“I think it’s growing on me,” he says to Hyrule.

They make it back to Clock Town in a few hours’ time. Wild had sped up his pace and fallen in besides Twilight, who was himself behind Time. The old man definitely noticed. Wild is not a subtle worrier.

“We can split up again,” Warriors suggests. “It’s less of a risk now that we’re comfortable with the place.”

“Yes!” Wind cheers. “No offense, Wild, but it would be nice to not have to eat the same thing as everyone else for once…”

Wild crinkles his nose. “I keep telling you all, if you want to make your own thing you can just take shifts—”

“Nnnope! Just this one time’s good!”

The others are quickly drawn into a conversation with Wind about cooking (and people among them who definitely shouldn’t be allowed to cook). Wild uses the opportunity to glance up at the Clock Tower: five-thirty. He slips past Twilight and hopes the rancher stays distracted by the other Links.

“Romani’ll be here soon,” he says to Time.

Time gives him a sidelong glance. “That she will.”

“Could be your last chance. We don’t know if we’ll ever be back here again.”

His one eye turns back on the rowdy group. He says nothing.

Wild sways a little on his feet. “Look, I’d really like that milk, at least,” he says. “It’s less I have to buy to cook with. Is it as good as Lon Lon?”

“It’s good,” Time allows, tilting his head.

Goddess, he’s frosty. “All right, then. I’m going. I’ll tell her you said hi.”

He takes a step back towards the group to try to pull a different milk-fetching buddy, but Time speaks again. “Champion.”

Wild glances back at him. “Yeah?” he says.

“You don’t even know who Mr. Barten is.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“No you won’t,” Time says flatly. “You need a membership to get into his establishment regardless, which only I have.”

Wild widens his eyes, aware he’s pushing it. “So…?”

“So I’ll come.”

He manages not to punch the air with delight, so he internally praises his own restraint. Sometimes he swears it’s like pulling teeth with that man.

When they decide the split, Twilight almost worms his way into going with Time and Wild, but Legend convinces him to come with him to the shooting gallery since their “most decent” archer is occupied (sounds familiar, again). Wild’s got to cook something extra nice for him tomorrow. Twilight’s so damn pleasant that, had he come along, Time would've probably let him do all the talking and done none himself.

They go. The crowds of people are even more intense a day closer to the Carnival, moving about practically everywhere, their voices ringing out in laughter and shouts and song. Time navigates them flawlessly and Wild keeps close as not to lose the path he’s cutting through the masses. They approach the Stock Pot Inn again, but this time they turn early, arriving at the building across from it Time had been eyeing up yesterday.

Time fishes around in his bag and pulls out a mask in the shape of a cow. It’s kind of cute. He raps on the door three times, exchanges hurried words that Wild can’t make out with someone Wild can’t hear, and then steps back. The door swings open.

“This place is called Latte,” he tells Wild. “It’s a milk bar.”

“Woah,” Wild murmurs. He briefly wonders if the drinking age is different in Termina than in his Hyrule. Not that he could do anything with that information while he's busy helping Time sort this out, of course.

“Don’t get too excited.” A small grin forms on Time’s face. “They’re not open yet—we’re only allowed inside because Romani’s expecting us.”

Wild rolls his eyes. “Just go, old man,” he says. “You’re stalling.”

Time shakes his head, but his faint smile is still there. Wild tentatively thinks that's a good sign. He heads down the stairs, and again, Wild follows.

Romani is already there. She talks animatedly to the man at the counter—this must be Mr. Barten, Wild supposes. He looks an awful lot like Malon’s father. That’s at least not very surprising anymore. When she hears their footsteps, Romani perks up, a smile blooming across her freckled face.

“Look who it is! Romani wasn’t sure you’d come,” she says warmly. She gestures to the bar behind her. “I'm glad you did. I have two bottles of milk with your names on them.”

“‘Grasshopper’ or ‘Link’?” Time asks her. Oh, he is in good humor.

“Grasshopper, obviously!” she replies, picking up one of the bottles and handing it to him. “You’re both named Link, so that’d just confuse everybody.”

Time takes it gladly. “Thank you.”

“And you too, Bluejay,” Romani adds, handing over another bottle to Wild.

Wild smiles at her. “Thanks, Miss Romani.”

“No need to thank Romani! After all, Romani is thanking you!” She clasps her hands together. She takes a look around, but Mr. Barten has stepped away, so she leans in and lowers her voice. “Romani’s been dealing with Them for a long time now, but that doesn’t mean I’m perfect. It’s always nice to have a helping hand.” She glances at Time. “And to see an old friend.”

Time softens. “That it is,” he agrees.

“Romani Ranch is always open for you two if you can ever drop by!” she says. “Our milk is our lifeblood out there. Say, Grasshopper… you still remember how to drink it, don’t you?”

“Of course,” he says very seriously. He sets one hand on his hip. “A big gulp with your hand on your hip—it’s only proper.”

Romani laughs, a sweet and warm thing. “Well, good! Now I don’t have to teach Bluejay. I was worried you’d forgotten!”

With a quick shake of the head, Time dismisses the notion. “As if I could ever forget,” he says.

The smile on her face reminds Wild of that morning’s dawn. “Then enjoy it. Romani should be heading back to the ranch now, but I'll never forget what you two did for me. I’ll see you around, Bluejay… Grasshopper.”

"See you around," Wild agrees, and he turns to leave.

Time lingers for a second longer. Wild can't see his face. "Goodbye, Romani," he says at last, full of warmth. "It was good to see you."

They leave the milk bar, and leave Romani behind with it. Wild chances a glance at Time, who stares down at his bottle with a thoughtful look. It doesn’t seem to be a distressed one, though. Wild’s glad for that. He knew he was kind of pushing it with the whole nagging-him-into-coming-here thing, but he knows that all the Links share a little bit of a soul, and that his own soul, at least, is very self-sabotaging. If there's something here that can give Time closure, he wants Time to reach out and take it. To do what he can't.

“Mind another stop, champion?” Time says, lifting his gaze to meet Wild’s. “Though I fear I’ve practically dragged you across half of Termina today alone.”

“I don’t mind. After all, it’s just across the way, isn’t it?” chances Wild.

Time laughs, quiet but earnest, and nods once.

Of course, he heads to the Inn. This time Anju is manning the counter instead of her daughter Link, and she straightens slightly when she sees them enter. Then her brow furrows with confusion, recognizing them as the customers from yesterday. “Oh, welcome back to the Stock Pot Inn,” she says.

Wild lingers near the doorway. Time crosses to the counter again. "Good evening," he says.

Anju's fingers flitter about near the edges of the inn book that lay in front of her. “Ah, if you’re still looking for nine…”

“Don’t worry about that,” Time tells her. His fingers flex at his sides, which Wild can now recognize as a sign of nerves. “We've got our situation sorted out fine. It's just that I’m afraid I was a little dishonest with you yesterday, is all.”

She merely looks at him and opens her mouth, perplexed, but before she can speak he reaches into his bag again and pulls out another one of his masks. It’s a fairly typical oval shape, but it’s color is shocking. It's such a pure white it’s almost iridescent. Wild blinks hard at the sight. There’s a strange geometric symbol etched on its perfectly smooth surface that Wild can’t parse, all circles and sharp lines. If he squints, it looks like an embrace. Something about it makes him think, lovely.

Anju’s mouth drops open. “Oh, Goddess of Time,” she says, putting her palms together and raising her hands to her lips. “It is you! Oh—Kafei!!”

A man comes rushing down the hallway immediately. He looks almost shockingly similar to Time in the face, complete with a scar over one eye, though it's opposite to Time's. He has the same brilliant purple hair that Link did, but it has a few faint streaks of grey, and his good eye is bright red. Her husband. “Anju?!” 

Anju points at the mask in Time’s hand with a trembling finger. “It’s him,” she says. “Kafei, it’s Link!”

For a moment, Kafei stares, uncomprehending. “Great Goddess of Time,” he says faintly, just like his wife. He staggers over to the counter and stands next to her, his eye wide. “Link… I can’t believe it!"

Perhaps a bit abashed under the attention, Time bows his head. "I'm in town for the Carnival of Time. Just like old times, I suppose."

"Just like old times!" Kafei looks at Anju, halfway between incredulity and delight. They look back to Time as one. "Yeah, right. You’re all grown up.”

Time cocks his head with a grin. “So are you.”

Kafei laughs, comes around the side to throw his arms around Time, and Anju follows soon after. Time, usually such an intimidating presence, looks at first profoundly awkward. And then suddenly he is like a child in their embrace, his shoulders relaxing and his head bowing, so small. 

“We’re so glad to see you,” Anju says.

“We missed you at the wedding, you know,” adds Kafei.

Time says something to them that Wild can’t make out from where he stands. He decides he doesn’t need to. He has already seen a lot of Time today; him as a sort-of husband, now him as a sort-of son, and perhaps these aren’t all things that Time needs to share. Besides, if Wild got another moment with any of his long-gone friends, he’d like some of it to be spent alone with them, too.

“Hey, Time,” he says, and the old man—looking very young—lifts his head. “I’m gonna go find Twilight and Legend, I think. See if they’re still at the shooting gallery.” 

Time withdraws from Anju and Kafei’s hold. “There’s no need,” he starts, but Wild holds up a hand.

“It’s okay. Seriously. Besides, you know this town better than anyone. You’ll be able to find us in a second if something goes wrong, right?”

“Well…” He glances back at the couple. “Yes, I suppose I could. But you boys—”

“—will see you later, old man,” Wild insists, and he smiles. "It's fine. I swear."

A pause. The clock ticks and ticks and ticks. 

At last, Time smiles back, a small thing. “I owe you my thanks for today, champion,” he says, all the sincerity he can muster in it. “I’ll see you later.”

Well, there you have it.

Wild takes his leave. The door swinging shut behind him silences the clunking of the clock, but Anju, Kafei, and Time’s voices are still faintly audible while he walks out onto the Clock Town streets. As he looks into the sky, stained orange and red by the setting sun, he thinks the Champions might’ve loved this place, had they ever got the chance to see it.