"Using it is pretty simple," Link said, holding the bow before him as he demonstrated it. "Just grab an arrow, nock it here, pull back the string, aim and... let it go."

As he spoke, he mimed the movements, all without an arrow, and when he pulled back the string, he held it for just a moment before letting it go with a defined shudder of the string.

"It's surely more difficult than you're letting on," I argued right away. "Don't you have to pay attention to just about everything going on around you? Distance, wind, the weather, things like that? Not to mention how your target is moving, especially with those things taken into consideration, too."

"Oh, sure," he said, nodding surely as he met my gaze and lowered the bow. "But once you know how to use it - as I do - then a lot of it becomes second nature to consider. You'll know by the placement of the arrowhead where it'll land depending on the distance, you'll learn how to deal with weather patterns and how it affects the arrow's flight, and things like that. But let's not worry about that right now. That's learned with experience, and I don't have the power to control the wind so you can practice in different conditions."

"Seems pretty windy now," I said, making a show of tucking some hair behind my ear so that it wouldn't all whip around in my face.

"True," he said, considering it. "This might not be the best time or even place to practice, but we're in a small enough spot that retrieving the arrows will be easy enough no matter how far from the target you might be."

Well, that was true enough. The canyon here was not terribly wide and, even hidden in an alcove as we were, it would not be a trying task to cross to the other side to retrieve the projectives. With an old bit of frayed fabric in hand, one he retrieved from one of his saddlebags, he crossed the small space and used some ChuChu jelly to fasten it in place against the sunbaked rock wall. I stood, and when he returned he retrieved the bow from his back and smiled as he came to a stop beside me.

"I think this will be a great weapon for you," he noted as he joined me in facing the makeshift target. "You can help out in battles this way, but not engage directly just yet."

"Assuming I have reliable enough aim not to hit you instead of a monster," I provided mischievously.

Link met my eyes with a playful sort of look and a cheeky looking smile. "You wouldn't hit me," he said surely, though still playfully.

Honestly, with the way he said it, it sounded like he truly believed it. If was as though, in his eyes, it was because physically I wouldn't, because there would be no reason for it, it would be morally reprehensible, and besides all of that he was my friend, then he had good reason to believe it - but with the look in his eyes, I think it was that he thought I never would be able to.

And something about that, strangely enough, struck my pride directly.

Of course, I had no way to confirm which way he had meant it, so-

"I'd dodge it."

Well.

"I hope that's not a challenge," I said, smiling widely.

With the way he laughed, I knew he hadn't meant for it to be one, and he shook his head. "No," he said, "of course not. That'd be something I would always win!"

I clicked my tongue and reached for the bow. "Give me that," I said sharply, though my smile still sat on my lips. It was that same mischievous one, and there was surely a determined glint in my eyes as he conceded and handed the bow over.

The bow, of solid wood unpainted and unfinished, weighed more than I thought it would. Surely Link noticed the way my hand dipped a little beneath its sudden and surprising weight, but he didn't comment on it. Neither did he comment on it when I turned my hand over, testing its weight and balance as I did. I curled a finger of my free hand around the bowstring, tugged, and released. Just as I'd been shocked at the weight, I'd been shocked by the tension in the string as well.

I'd seen people shoot arrows before, often just for fun at local tournaments. Hunters in Hateno, when we needed fresh game, would travel out into the woods just outside our fair village with bows strapped to their backs and a quiver of arrows at their hips as they set off in their groups with the promise of fresh meat for all.

If ever I'd watched and wondered what it was like to use a bow, I vastly and gravely underestimated the tension alone and perhaps it was because those hunters made it look so easy. When we would have those tournaments, the participants would draw their arrows back with ease and send them flying.

Those swift, agile, yet completely controlled movements were ones that I'd been fooled into thinking were easy. Though perhaps it was naive to think that the string would be easy to pull? It was meant to send an arrow flying - and though light, the arrows often needed to go far, and fast, and true.

"Really," Link began, "the first step is to determine your dominant eye. You know, for aiming."

"Dominant eye? Oh, I get it." Thinking it over and looking down at the ground, I tried to focus on what eye I was seeing dominantly through but if I thought left, I saw left, and the same held true when I thought right. Frowning a little, I blinked once and then twice, trying to clear my eyes and stop alternating them willingly.

"It's ok if you don't know it now," Link said. "Just something to think about. We can always try both sides and see what feels better for you. I don't actually plan on letting you shoot right now, anyway. Too windy for you to really get a good feel for it. It's picking up, too. Might have a storm coming through."

"Right," I agreed, with regard to not shooting just yet. "Like a science experiment - I need a control, right?"

"Um... yeah," Link said, somewhat sheepishly. "Exactly right. Uh..."

I laughed lightly, meeting his eyes surely. "It means getting rid of additional things that might impact the end result. That's all."

"Oh, so the wind, right?"

"Right," I affirmed. "Exactly."

With another smile sent his way, I lifted the bow, mimicking the movement I'd seen so many times before. Holding it in my dominant hand, I imagined nocking an arrow and lifting the bow, looking down the line of the arrowhead to my target.

"So," I said, "why is eye dominance important?"

"Your eyes are different," he said. "And your perspective changes depending on what eye you usually prefer. If you aim using your non-dominant eye, your aim won't be quite right."

"Oh," I said, considering it. "Yeah, that makes sense."

"Hopefully your dominant eye lines up with your dominant hand," Link said, setting his hands on his hips as I pulled the arrow string back. I tried holding it for a moment, and then another, but the tension grew too much and I was forced to let it go.

Link chuckled as I lowered the bow and glowered at it. "Tough, isn't it? You shouldn't hold it that long, anyway. Just enough to line the shot up and shoot. Any longer and you're putting unnecessary tension on yourself and the bow."

"Don't want to waste all my strength lining up one shot," I mused. "Yeah, I get it. So, if my eye and hand aren't on the same side, is that a problem?"

"No," he said. "You'd just be cross dominant. You could either learn using your non-dominant hand, or hold it in your dominant hand and close your dominant eye. That's all."

"Gotcha," I chimed. "So, if this is my dominant hand, then..."

"Your other hand is what would be called the bow arm," he explained. "So hold it in that one, just about... yeah, right there." As he spoke, he guided it into my non-dominant hand, showing me how to hold it. "Don't hold it so tightly, though. Are you nervous?"

"Nervous? No, there's no arrow yet," I said.

"I see," he said, not convinced. "Then why are you holding onto it for dear life?"

"Uh..."

"Just relax," Link said with a smile. "You want a relaxed grip." He trailed his fingers over my knuckles, and rather instinctually I loosened my grip slightly. "There you go. So your dominant hand is the one drawing the arrow back. Try it."

I lifted the bow once more in my non-dominant hand, then drew the string back with my dominant hand. "No," I said, "that feels so weird."

"Does it?"

"Yeah," I said, releasing the arrow gently. "If my dominant hand has more control, shouldn't it be the one aiming?"

"It is," he affirmed. "You don't aim with this end," he said, gesturing towards the bow's handle. "You aim with this one. What happens back here determines what happens up there, and ultimately that's the one controlling the arrow. Try it again."

"Alright," I said, considering his words carefully.

As I did, Link stepped behind me, smiling all the while. "Hold it," he instructed. "It's going to feel weird, you're just starting out. Imagine holding an arrow, tracking something grazing right there..."

His volume dropped lower and as I imagined it, he stepped closer, tapping his boot against my foot - telling me without words to bring them further apart. His hands found my shoulders, adjusting them so I was perpendicular to the rock wall on the opposite side of the canyon. Satisfied with that, he pressed one hand to the back of my knee, and I bent both slightly.

"Good," he said. "Nice and secure?"

"Yes," I breathed out, and Link then called my name, telling me to release the string but to keep my hand there to pretend I still was.

After doing so, I peeked back at him, finding that he had taken a step back to evaluate my stance further. I fought the urge to smile seeing him so incredibly focused and with one hand tucked beneath his chin, like a researcher deep in thought. When he noticed my gaze on him, he broke out into a smile.

"Don't look at me," he said through a laugh. "Look at your target!"

"Got it," I said, still fighting the urge to outright grin at him Instead, I schooled my face into one of neutrality, then one of focus, one of determination and drive as I pretended something like a Bokoblin was standing there, none the wiser to the threat looming just over here.

"Oh," he said, rushing to me again, "here." With one hand on my hip and the other on my back, he guided me to flatten it, to straighten my posture. "Relax, but not too much. You can get hurt that way. Relax your shoulders and... Perfect."

Peeking over my shoulder once more, I found myself looking right into his eyes, and I was shocked to find he was smiling warmly, his eyes alight with pride and joy. As though surprised by my doing so, or perhaps flustered by our close proximity which he'd only just realized, he poked his index finger to my cheek and guided me to look towards the target again.

"Target, right," I said before he needed to. When he chuckled rather indulgently, he drew away, and only when he was a few steps away did I relax. "So, that's all?"

"For the stance, yep," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Of course, aiming is a whole different thing, and so is actually using an arrow. But we'll practice that later. For now, this is a good step."

As I handed the bow back to him, I met his gaze. "What if there's not enough time to set all of that up?"

"As you start out, it's really important to get your stance right," he pressed. "Your body isn't used to it, and it's easy to get injured by having something out of place or alignment. But I'll admit that sometimes in battle there isn't time to get it all right - you just have to aim and shoot and hope your aim is true. There's also differences in firing on horseback, in a crouch, and in as many different situations as you can find yourself in."

I nodded, accepting his answer. "Alright," I said. "So, Link. Maybe one more snack before we hit the road again?"

Link beamed, his smile brighter than even the sun and far more radiant by a long shot. "You know me so well already!"

—

"Guard," Link said, and as he did the movement, so did I. With by-now trained movements, lending themselves well to my muscle's growing memory, I lifted the spear towards my head, holding one hand close to my ear and the other further back. When the stick was parallel with the ground I was satisfied, and Link glanced over before nodding and continuing.

Through the various stances and attacks we went, slow and controlled. As he called each position out, I diligently obeyed, adjusting my body as needed and ignoring the musculature strain. Then, he began running through scenarios.

"Bokoblin, as tall as your chest, running at you with a club. Guard, then what?"

"Push it away," I stated simply, miming the movement and pretending a monster really was there.

"Good. It ducked around you, it's behind you, raising its club to strike."

I pivoted only slightly, just enough to see over my shoulder. I slid the spear down my hands, thrusting the butt behind me, just where the Bokoblin's chest would be. With a strong jab to the sternum it would have stumbled back, and I took advantage of its daze and turned all the way around. In the way Link had showed me, I rotated the spear in my hands, watching the glint of the campfire against the metallic spearhead.

The weapon in my hand was a very basic traveler's spear, plain in design but the spearhead was sharp, and the weapon finely balanced. It felt good in my hands, and the way it moved - and the way I moved - seemed to complement each other. Unlike the bow, or what I had done with it so far, the spear catered well to physics I understood. I knew how it would move and there were no surprises, none at all.

Of course, these drills were nothing compared to how actually using it would be, but it felt good, it did.

"Good work," Link said, lowering his spear after several more drills and mock practice battles. He affixed the spear to a loop on his back, and when settled he met my gaze kindly. "You're doing well with that."

"Thanks," I said genuinely, looking at the weapon in hand. "It feels good. Natural, almost."

"Hold onto it, then," he said. "A spear's a good weapon. Not my favorite, though."

"No," I agreed, gesturing with a movement of my head towards the scabbard on his hip. "That's gotta be a sword, right?"

"Yep," he said, proudly unsheathing a traveler's sword - simple in make, but devastating in battle when in his hands.

With a series of impressive movements, he twirled it in hand, the assuredly heavy metal gliding through the air about his hand like a fish through water. It was effortless, yet the culmination of years of work with it; it was beautiful, but a clear show of power and strength all the same.

"Incredible," I couldn't help but say. "When will you teach me that?"

Link shrugged, setting his free hand on his hip as he continued to twirl and spin the blade with ease. "Maybe tomorrow," he said, making me grin, "but maybe never."

At that, I frowned. "That's no fair," I said. "It looks so cool!"

"Sure," he said, "but I wasn't taught all of this fancy handwork until I..." He caught himself at that, clearly biting back a string of words that might have given away parts of his past.

Parts of his past that he didn't want to share right now.

"I'll tell you what I don't want to use ever again," I went on to say before the silence could grow awkward. Catching himself before he got lost in his thoughts, Link blinked and met my eyes once more. "A club. Ugh."

"Ugly weapons, aren't they?"

"They're heavy and clumsy and just awful," I griped.

"Yeah," Link agreed. "Definitely not my style of weapon. But the sword is, and always will be." At that, he sheathed his blade, then gestured for me to follow him. With our dinners long gone, our stomachs full but settled, and the adrenaline of our mock battles keeping us going, Link approached the horses.

"There's a trail near here that leads up the gorge to a nice little spot," Link told me as he untied Epona from her hitch. She went willingly, and he pulled himself up onto her back bare, without a saddle with little more than a grunt as the evidence of his effort. "Wanna ride up with me?"

"Sure," I said, going to mount Sky only to be met with an indignant sort of snort. "Oh. She doesn't want to be ridden..."

"That's alright," he said. "She'll be safe here, promise. Come on, then." Accepting his invitation excitedly, I took his hand and allowed him to help me up onto Epona behind him. When I was comfortable behind him, my legs bracketing his own and my arms wrapped tightly around him, he kicked into her sides. "Hyah!"

Backtracking along the canyon, we soon came upon a thin, thin rocky trail winding up the way we had originally come from - which explained why I hadn't noticed it on our first pass through. Epona, the steadfast mare that she was, rode up the narrow rock with ease and though I did trust her, I did hold my breath all the same.

Link must have clued into this right away (and perhaps it was obvious by the way I pressed closer to his back, pressing my cheek to his shoulder and squeezing my eyes shut), because he chuckled and set one of his hands against my forearm.

"Relax," he said softly, and I nearly remarked on how often he was telling me to do that today if not for my desire to hear what he had to say. "Epona will get us there safely."

As told, I willed myself to relax, but I didn't quite trust myself quite yet to open my eyes. Well, rather, I didn't want to. I was so comfortable, so content, and so safe against him - it was a feeling resounding deeply in my bones, so I knew it to be true - that I didn't want to open them.

I did trust Epona to get us there safely, just as I trusted him to.

—

At the top of the trail, atop the gorge, there certainly had been a beautiful spot. Atop the pillars of rock on this side, the other side of the canyon was far behind us and beyond them, so too were the Pillars of Levia.

With that at our backs, before us was Lake Siela, which we had crossed via the Kakariko Bridge so long ago. After a short hike with the water far, far below us, there in the distance we could now see a waterfall, from which the water stemmed from its mountainous home.

"Those are the Phalian Highlands," Link told me, leaping atop a rocky outcropping for a better look. "There's a forest hidden away there too, and beyond it is the Lanayru Promenade. Oh, we should stop there, it's..."

When I came to a stop beside him, he trailed off, but it wasn't because of my position next to him. No, he squinted his eyes, trying to clue into something far in the distance. I followed his gaze, and in the darkness of the evening, it was all too easy to spot a dull orange glow, winking at us even from so far away, somewhere just before the Highlands we were looking at.

"Link? Is that a fire?"

"No," he said surely right away. "There's no smoke. See?"

I did see, but I was no closer to knowing what it was.

"What is it, do you think?"

"I know exactly what it is," Link said. He glanced behind him, a determinedly courageous and rather conflicted look in his eyes as he weighed decisions in his head. "No, you'll be too far away if I bring you back. I want you with me."

"Link...?"

"Come on," he said. "Back on Epona. We've got another stop to make."

"But-"

"Another adventure tonight," he said, smiling at me from atop his mare's back already. "You up for it?"

"I guess I have to be, don't I?"

"That's the spirit," he said, helping me up after him. When I was secure, we departed. And soon, though not soon enough for my curiosity, we reached his destination. It was an impossibly smooth fixture, a structure of ominous orange glow that looked terribly out of place in the small rocky bluff we'd come to.

"Link," I said cautiously, "what is this? There's one in Hateno, too."

"It's a Shrine," he explained, bringing Epona to a trot, and then to a walk, drawing ever closer to the structure. The wind blew through, brushing past the Shrine and shifting my hair from my shoulders, bringing with it the smell of decay, of age, of rot. But there was nothing to rot here, nothing to age, and certainly nothing to decay.

It smelled old. And somehow, I knew it was far more important than its seemingly simple nature seemed to suggest. It was completely closed off, and for the life of me I could not come up with an explanation for what was giving it this ethereal glow, or who could have carved it with such smooth edges especially with a shell that seemed impervious to the effects of nature.

"Link," I said once more, unnerved by its presence somehow, feeling that something - or everything - about it was unnatural. I felt like I was being watched, too.

"Don't be afraid," he said softly. "The Shrines house nothing more than old treasure and dusty puzzles."

"Puzzles...?"

"Mm-hm," he hummed, as though it was normal. But none of this was normal. None of it. And it had all the hair on the back of my neck rising up, and I tensed. Of course, he noticed this right away and he grasped my hand in his and looked over his shoulder at me. "I'll be fine."

"What?"

"I'm going inside it," he said. "But you can't follow. It won't let you."

"But..."

"It's something I have to do alone, alright? You'll be perfectly fine out here. Monsters don't like these things... just as you don't seem to. And honestly... I don't like them either."

"So why come all this way for it? Why go... in?"

"My orders," he said rather cryptically, and I sighed.

Would I ever get a straight answer out of him when it came to these strange happenings, to the hesitance in talking about his past?

I wondered if I ever would as he released my hand, sent me a reassuring smile, then carefully dismounted. Leading us - for I hadn't dismounted - closer to the Shrine, he hitched Epona to a nearby tree then reached for me. Though I didn't need it, I let him help me down, and once he released my hips and stepped away now that my feet were steady beneath me, he smiled softly, something like concern and care in his eyes.

"I'll be just fine," he assured me, "and I'll be back soon. Just sit tight, ok?"

I nodded, unable to do anything else as he approached what I supposed was the front of the Shrine. Up onto its platform he stepped, and beneath its topmost structure he stepped. To a pedestal he tapped his Sheikah Slate, and seemingly in response a set of doors peeled away revealing... nothing but darkness.

After stepping in, he turned to face me, sending me a boyish, confident grin. "I've got this, (Y/n)! I'll see you soon!"

And then he was sinking down, down below the dirt, out of sight and for now, out of reach.