That next morning, I couldn’t have felt more refreshed. I raise my arms up and arch my back and see Midna sprawled out on the floor near my feet—right where we left her. I get up slowly and rub my eyes open, before squishing my face and rubbing my eyes to rid f my sleepiness. As my physics teacher once told me, objects in motion stay in motion—but objects in rest stay in rest. The blanket fell off of me halfway through the night, and it lays in a folded heap near my feet. My feet cautiously start to move, taking me wherever they please.

As I walk past the twin bed to freshen up in the shower, I find that Link isn’t under the sheets of the bed, or on top of them. He’s not even in the room. I ignore my confusion and inability to comprehend where he could have possibly went, and figure that he’s probably just getting...stuff. Whatever that stuff may be, it clearly doesn’t involve me. Dammit, it’s too early to think. Trying not to wake up the sleeping Twili on the carpet while turning the door handle proves to be quite the task, but a bright sparkle stops me out of the corner of my eye stops me in my tracks.

I lean back around the corner and see that next to the oil lamp on the table is something wooden—something wooden with a brass handle. It practically beckons me, so I walk around the bed to it. It turns out to be a bow. A bow with twenty arrows neatly propped in a quiver that looks just like his.

Next to it is a small note on parchment, which reads:

Neri

I assume that it means me and not any other Neri, and give a quick looksee over my shoulders to make sure there’s no one else around. How thoughtful of Link to make this. At least, I’m assuming he made it. I doubt Midna or Fi could. I can see the plethora of intricate carvings and thin lines decorating the mahogany wood surface; all hand carved with swift and clean incisions. When I take the bow in my hand, it’s much lighter than I thought. The thin silver string is sturdy and tightly bound, and will require some use before it starts to give and I bulk up. It’s exactly like Link’s, except his has a silver handle and mine is brass.

A ghost of a smile haunts my face, and I can’t help but feel so overjoyed that Link went through all the work to make it for me. Part of me wonders when he ever had the time to make it between me being stabbed and becoming a wolf, finding Fi, Link being shot by poisoned arrows and now Ghirahim’s sudden return. Now that my curiosity has settled, I set the bow down next to the Goddess Sword and walk into the bathroom to see a bucket filled with steaming water and a small wash cloth folded on a towel.

Well, I guess these simple pleasures are more than enough to please me.

When I finish in the bathroom, I wrap a complimentary towel around my neck to prevent my good hoodie from getting wet and step out. As I step out while rubbing the towel against the crown of my head, I see Link sitting at the couch eating toasted baguettes with fried eggs on top. Likewise, Midna munches contentedly on a bun on the carpet. Had I really been in there that long?

“Morning,” I greet warmly. Link smiles with the baguette in his mouth, his cheeks slightly bulging. Midna just sits there in her euphoria while eating her bun. You would almost expect tears of happiness to run down her face. I shake my head and giggle, dropping the towel on the bed.

“Don’t worry. We saved you some,” Link says when he’s swallowed. He motions to some more baguettes on the table, and I plop down next to him on the loveseat to join their little meal. “It’s complimentary, so we got it for free—except the bun.” Link scowls at Midna. She obviously ignores him.

As I walk over, I see in a small mirror overhanging the bed that my hair has—changed. My blonde highlights that I used to keep near my roots have faded almost completely, reverting my hair back to its medium brown colour. “Ah!” I exclaim slightly, then lean over and vainly begin to examine my roots. Damn this world for not having shampoo for coloured hair.

“Your hair looks different,” Link says.

I nod. “The bleach faded.”

“The what?”

“The colour of my hair. It’s fading.”

“I repeat, what? Are you okay? Is that normal?”

“In my world, people can get treatment to change the colour of their hair if they so choose to. I’m not dying, Link. Mine was blonde at the roots to make it look…prettier. Ah, and these little curls at the tips are coming back too—that’s what I get for not bringing a brush,” I mutter the last part to myself.

“Why would you do that to your hair?” Link asks, confused.

“Because it was plain before. I didn’t think it looked attractive.”

“I think it looks attractive the way it is.” He shrugs as he wipes his mouth with a napkin. I almost stutter in my surprise. Link thinks my hair is…pretty? “And those curls are nice too.”

I turn to face him, flabbergasted, but he just looks out the window across from the couch.

Instead of milking it I just eat up to distract myself, and realize that this has been and will be the best meal I’ll have for quite a while. “Thank you for saving me some.”

He responds, “No problem.”

We sit there in what could be called an awkward silence, while all of us eat our complimentary meal. Instead of flashing my creepy glances at Link while he watches the window, I let my eyes trace around the crocheted designs of the carpet that Midna sits on, then let my gaze wander to the fireplace that spits ashes at us through the copper grate.

“So...” Link starts, and suddenly averts his gaze from me. Is it just me or is he...blushing a little? “Did you get the...um...”

“The bow?” I finish his sentence. Link nods and his blue eyes swipe back to my cold gray ones. “Yes—and it’s beautiful. Thank you so much.”

He just looks away again sheepishly, and rubs the back of his head. “It really didn’t take that long. But sorry if you get it confused with mine,” he says.

I shake my head. “No, no, it’s fine. Actually, it’s because it looks like yours that I like it,” I whisper the last part. The last part makes his cheeks tint pink slightly.

“Well, we should get going,” he breaks the awkwardness, standing up and brushing the crumbs off of his lap. “Midna?”

“Ready!” the imp replies, and sweeps off her crumby fingers before slipping into her host’s shadow. I strap my bow onto my back with the quiver arrows.

While slipping on the Goddess Sword, I realize that Link must not think much of all the layers, while so few things on my back feel like too many. He unlocks the door and holds it open for me, and I smile and give a nod of appreciation. We go through the lobby and check out, and start traveling through the main square.

It’s even livelier in the daytime. There are even more street venders, and I try with all my might to resist running to them. More little boys have cartons of goods to sell, and homeless citizens smoke through pipes as they lounge against the gray stones that make up the square. I see a little girl with an eye patch selling flowers from the wide bouquet she holds, and I wonder if the eye patch is to make people pity her. There is even a man playing an accordion-like instrument in the square, while people dance in a large circle on the other side of the fountain. I immediately want to join in, but then I remember that my dancing is absolutely horrendous—I am the definition of having two left feet.

However, a faint scream snaps me out of it. It comes from the building ahead to my left, which is either a banking firm or a trade post.

It seems like I’m the only one who heard the shriek, because Link and Midna both watch the group dance absentmindedly. When I squint to look back through the window, I can make out people lying on the floor with their arms in the air, and two men standing with swords through the musty windows—it’s a robbery.

One of the men is holding up a woman by her bruising wrist, and I know undoubtedly that she was the one who screamed. The other man is yelling profanities at the hostages and the cashier, waving his sword in front of their faces as they recede back.

Then to my horror, the first man grabs the woman that screamed and whips out a dagger and slashes her cheek. She screams again, but he holds her firmly, his hand slowly inching up to her breasts as she shrieks and shakes her head. I gasp and start to breathe heavily.

My eyes flick over to Link, who stands with his arms crossed as he watches the dancers on the other side of the fountain, oblivious. Mind over matter, I decide to test out my bow. My arm reaches over and grabs the polished brass grip and I briskly sprint to the building ahead.

“Neri!” Link yells from behind, but I don’t listen.

I kick open the door and my grip tightens on the cool handle. It’s impossible for me to recall the last time I did something so risky, because I never have. When the door slams against the wall, everyone stops. The hostages are scared that I’m another robber, and the thieves immediately know that I’m against their little heist. They scowl and turn towards me, and I almost take a step back.

“Put the woman down!” I command firmly, against the cold sweat forming on my palms. The men stare at me warily, then chuckle.

“Ya really think tha we would listen to ya?” the first man scoffs.

“Wha’s a lil thing like yaself gonna do?” the second mocks.

I’ve already had enough.

“Why don’t we just do it the easy way? You leave now, and I promise that I won’t make a scene that would cause the police to get involved,” I negotiate with a steely tone.

“Oh, she’s a scary one, Rikard!” The first shakes with comical horror.

“She’s a pretty lil one too, eh Sair?” the second, Rikard, adds. “Sure, her forehead’s a lil wide and her nose is a lil big, but it’s better than most o’ tha hoes here.”

I let a small laugh escape my lips.

“Hey! Wha you laughin’ about, bitch?” the first, Sair threatens me.

I relax slightly and put my hand on my hip. “I was just wondering if that’s all you care about. You know, women and money.”

They grit their teeth. “Tha isn’t of importance to ya! We have very sophisticated conversations, see,” Sair defends.

“Wow, you know what sophisticated means? I didn’t think you were even smart enough to understand half of this chat,” I shoot back.

“Wha did ya say, slut?!”

“Exactly my point. Am. I. Talking. Too. Fast. For. You. Dumbass?” Once again, my smart mouth takes control.

“Tha’s it!” The one that was teasing the captives, Rikard, throws his sword at me. I nearly shriek and don’t move in time, but by some miracle I duck. It lodges itself deep in the wooden door frame, the hilt of the flimsy blade shaking as the tip embeds itself deeper into the fraying wood.

“Smart move. Have any other pointy things?” I snap to anger him.

He searches his pockets before realizing that he has nothing, and curses.

I tsk at him. “What a dirty mouth! What would your mother have to say?”

“ENOUGH!”

We both stop our verbal conflict that I was totally winning just for the record; and turn to Sair. He takes in his arms the struggling woman, the one with the cut on her cheek. His arm slyly wraps around her neck, and she claws at his arm as her face turns red—she’s asphyxiating.

“Now, now, take another step an she dies!” Whipping out his dagger, he holds it to her neck to demonstrate—and he will do it. Lacking any better idea, I raise my bow, and load an arrow. The string groans against my chest, and I prepare to let it fly—but I can’t bring myself to let the string go.

I’ve never killed a person, and I don’t want this to be my first. But if I don’t, the woman will die. Her face is turning purple, and her hands start to faintly slap at his forearm instead of furiously digging her nails into him. My arms tighten again after loosening, and a determined glower masks my insecurities.

“Oh, no! Ya gonna shoot me?” A laugh that could scare the Joker echoes through the building. The woman’s desperate eyes plead to help, and I see her feet dangle a few feet about the ground, twitching, kicking, and doing everything in their power to get loose—which somehow gives me an idea.

I give a dangerous grin and answer his question. ”Yes.”

I aim down and my fingers let the string slip from my grip. Seemingly in slow motion the arrow sails through the air until it starts to enter a steep descent and lodges itself into Sair’s foot.

He howls and lets the woman go, and she hits the floor. She takes a few ragged breaths before peering behind her and getting up, bolting out of the door. Rikard stumbles back a smidge.

“Sair!” he yells the man’s name.

The man with the arrow in his foot, Sair, yells back, “Jus get ‘em, Rikard!”

The man addressed as Rikard lunges at me, and I jump to the side just barely. He wasn’t actually after me, but the sword that was stuck in the door frame behind me.

“I guess I got me one more pointy thing!” he imitates me. Pulling out my sword, I prepare to be absolutely serious—and dead.

“STOP!” a voice booms. Into the room steps a portly man, with a sword of his own. He wears a soldier’s uniform, and has a spear in his other hand. “It’s the police—stand down!” Rikard doesn’t dare move, and Sair curses at the officer and the arrow in his foot.

Since when did this turn into Dog the Bounty Hunter? Well, whatever. I sheath my sword and grab my bow from when I accidentally dropped it after grabbing for my sword. I shake out my arms and begin walking to the door, a feeling of pride radiating off of me. As I walk by the head officer, I pat his shoulder.

“Good luck with these guys.” Before I leave, I hurriedly run back to Sair. “I’ll be needing this,” I say, grabbing the shaft of the arrow and swiftly rip it out of his foot. He howls again, and falls to his side on the floor.

I jog to the door, hoping I’ll find Link. He must have lost me in the crowd if he still hasn’t shown up yet—I must need a leash or something if I’m really this hard to control. As I walk past the soldiers again, I see the woman again hiding behind one of the men. So that’s where she went to after leaving. I smile at and wave her I walk by, and she gives a slightly timid yet aware smile, along with a weak wave of her hand. When I step out, something rock hard collides with me, and I fall to the floor clutching my forehead.

Change that to a rock-hard chest. Link stands over me, his forehead creased with worry lines.

“Neri!” He crouches down and wraps his arms around mine to pull me to my feet, and right into his chest. My heart hammers so hard that I think my ribs may break. His arms tighten around me. What is he—?

“I was so worried! We heard screaming and saw a sword fly into the door! But I couldn’t get through the crowds and I thought you might’ve been hurt,” he rushes. “Are you hurt? Aching? Cut? Bleeding? Dizzy—”

My voice muffled in his chest, I say, “Link, I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong.”

He sighs. “Please, don’t do that again,” he whispers in my ear, and my face starts to heat up a little.

“Neri, unless you want to give Skirt Boy here a heart attack, I suggest you quit running off, getting injured, disappearing, et cetera,” Midna huffs from behind him. I know that it’s her way of caring, so I won’t ask for more.

“I haven’t disappeared yet,” I correct her. “Sorry, guys. Guess I was a little out of my league with this one.” I laugh.

The imp huffs again. “A little?”

Link lets go of me, but leaves his hands on my shoulders for a second longer before retracting them.

My stomach settles a bit, and as we leave he says, “So, does anyone think that we can make it to Princess Zelda without any more distractions?”

Midna and I look at each other. “Not a chance.”