Chapter Text
Everything was dark.
Was it always this dark?
No, he concluded, it was not.
Why was everything so hazy?
He could feel a throbbing sensation coming from his head. His. Who was he, again?
“Link.” Right. That was right. Link seemed right.
Something cold and shocking pressed against his lips, a small groan escaping his throat in a raspy whimper. No, Link didn’t know what that was. He didn’t want it.
Why was the darkness growing fuzzier? Could it do that?
His somewhat stiff muscles relaxed into the frame next to him. Someone was holding him.
They got the bottle’s liquid past his senses. He gagged it up again.
No. Link didn’t want it.
He didn’t want… it.
He didn’t want…
…
…
Link woke up again.
That haziness was still lingering. His eyelids could only crack open. His head hurt like hell itself was crawling out of it. Not quite like gloom, but still an aching headache.
He didn’t know where he was, what had happened, and frankly, he was so lost he didn’t care. He looked around with dead-like eyes, not truly seeing. The fact he was in a tent and couldn’t move a muscle was all his struggling mind could manage.
Were there voices outside?
Yes, he decided, sleep settling around him again. It likely was.
…
He felt a dull ache at the back of his head, a fuzzy feeling surrounding it, along with his thoughts. He tried to peek open his eyes, but the light was too much and he groaned as they slipped shut.
Someone came to his side; he could almost feel their spirit as they hovered, and eventually touched his arm in comfort.
Thats right. He was a sage of spirit.
He traced the spirit as it moved around him, likely reaching for something. He felt as if he could trust the spirit— it sang of wandering and forests, akin to his own.
Hand tipped his head back, and helped him swallow a sweet liquid. It trickled down his throat, and he started to feel drowsy again.
The spirit stayed close by as he started to sleep again.
…
He knew that the spirits he was tracing were bound by the bodies of the rest of the chain. His brothers. When he has brief moments of consciousness, he tried to identify them. They all called out to him with certain characteristics.
The few that he recognized first were Hyrule’s and Twilight’s. Time and Four stopped by him more than the rest, but everyone visited.
He didn’t know how long he was immobile and imprisoned in his mind for, but he assumed it was a day or two. Hyrule kept feeding him health potions when he could, and recently, some broth.
He was on the mend; that was for sure.
He wouldn’t die for another 20 days.
…
When he really woke, it was dark. The moon was bright and blurry in his vision, and as he focused more, he noticed the stars twinkling. He shifted himself up with a small grunt, his head pounding with the effort. He got a glimpse around the stationary camp he was at.
It was not the same forest from before. No, they were in a lush field, the long grass whipping to the side limply as the wind rolled through like a gentle brush. He looked to his right, seeing a campfire sparking and crackling. A frame was slumped against a rock, likely the person who was supposed to be on watch. His blue scarf was wrapped limply around his neck, and Wild could identify him as Warriors.
He noted that the air felt… different. It didn’t smell of the smoke and mountains of his previous surroundings; no, this smelt like the bloom of flowers and the sweet scent of coming rain. Spring contrasting fall. He didn’t think he was out very long for the seasons to change. Maybe he was. Panic set in slightly, causing his need to sit up.
With a hiss, she shakily sat up. He wanted to wake out of this haze that came with oversleeping. There was that throb in his head again, and he let out another groan of pain, but louder.
When he focused back on his surroundings rather than pain, Warriors was now looking sleepily at him, squinting. He gave him a little wave— awkwardly, and in pain, but it got Warriors up as he realized Wild was coherent.
”You feelin’ alright, Champ? You gave us a scare…” he said in a hushed tone, coming across the camp to help Wild sit up in a more stable manner. He tried to give a grin, but it turned to a grimace.
”I mean, it hurts. But I’m sure I’ll live if I have for this long.” Wild said, expecting a laugh, but Warriors gave out none, just looking at him like a concerned father.
”What?”
”You’ve been out for days. I’m just… worried. You weren’t doing too good for a while there.” Warriors mumbled, looking away from his face and at the dead fire. “Do you remember what happened?”
”Uh… we were leaving that one town… were we ambushed…? I dunno, that’s… that’s it. It’s all fuzzy from there.” He muttered. Warriors shook his head.
”Yeah. The shadow ambushed us. You figured it out first, and was telling everyone to get out. You were in the process in warning the last of us out there, but apparently you have no sense of urgency, as you couldn’t tell as a moblin snuck up on you and bashed you in the head. You were lucky it was a bad shot.” Warriors mumbled sourly. Wild blushed awkwardly. “We used up all the health potions and fairies we had to keep you in good health. You should feel the side effects, but you’re technically healthy again.” Warriors finished with a sigh, patting his back gently.
”Sorry.”
”…Don’t worry about it. I’m just giving you a hard time. I’m just glad you’re fine. We don’t need you gone again.” Wars said, looking back at him with a bittersweet smile. “But seriously. We need you, cook. Be glad you don’t have to eat the slop we threw together while you were out.” Wild gave a hushed laugh.
”Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he said, shrugging it off.
He should probably teach someone to cook. Before… before he had to leave them for good.
…
Wild’s head felt too fuzzy to write anything down, so he recounted information in his head until he remembered it well enough to write it down. He knew it was complicated and likely caused him a greater headache, but he also wanted his handwriting to be somewhat readable and not whatever he would produced with a still somewhat concussed head (according to Hyrule who woke up when Warriors was trying to scrounge something together for Wild to eat).
He had apparently been out for four days. The group, while he was out, had traveled to a new era— maybe even Time’s era. They had made some progress in traveling the giant plain they were on, but couldn’t spot a town yet.
Wild, shrugging off his thoughts, decided to look through his bag that was becoming misused because of his slate. He dug around in it for a little bit, as someone had scoured through it, likely looking for food. Nothing seemed out of ordinary, until he couldn’t find his journal. Shit. Did he leave it at the other town? Did it fall?
Did one of the chain find it?
No, he concluded, settling back down to head back to sleep. Maybe he would look in the morning and see if it was there then. Maybe he was just too tired to see it properly. His brothers wouldn’t disrespected his privacy like that.
He felt sleep wash over his hurting head with ease, and he slipped back into unconsciousness, hoping for no nightmares like his past four days of injury and drug induced sleep had given him.