Chapter Text
Wind perks up slightly as somebody whispers his name, eyes going from his cartography notebook to the treeline. Hyule waves at him from beside a tall tree. Beside him, Wild is already sitting on one of the tree's many branches. Hyrule tilts his head in their direction, a hopeful curl to his smile. Wind glances around camp. None of them are really doing anything right now. Legend is patrolling the forest around their campsite, and he took Four with him. Something about foraging around for once, especially given nobody recognizes this Hyrule. Everyone else is just dilly-dallying around since it's not even night yet. Wind shrugs to himself, going over to Hyrule and Wild’s tree.
“What are you guys doing?”
Hyrule grins. “Well, we can’t explore so close to dark, right? But this tree is right here, so we’re exploring up.”
He knocks on the tree, thick thuds sounding out. “And this tree can definitely handle it. You in?”
Wind felt a wide smile spread across his face. “Heck yeah!”
This is how Wind ended up sitting several feet above ground, in a tree. He peeks over the branch he’s sitting on, spotting Sky sat against a much smaller tree with his carving knife and a block of wood. Sky smiles up at him, then returns to his work.
He lets his legs swing, looking at swathes of yellowing leaves and autumn-grey trees. He’ll never get over how vivid the seasons are in other Hyrules. This forest looks totally different to the spring season in Twilight’s, or the winter in Four’s. Although it's not all seasonal differences.
Over a sea of trees, Wind can barely make out the heavy mist in the distance, shrouding an odd silhouette. He puts a hand to his chin, thinking.
“Hey! Be careful up there!” Twilight yells from below.
Wild, leaping from one end of the tree to another like a Korok, yells something vaguely reassuring back down. Wind squints downwards to find Time and Warriors also sending looks to the tree. Eugh, it’s like they think the Great Sea doesn’t have trees.
He frowns deeply, swinging his legs more forcefully. How many trees has he climbed? Plenty, on Outset and other islands. His hand slips against rough bark, getting scratched. Wind flaps it in the air. Ow.
Oddly, the sting doesn’t stop but travels from his palm to the back of his hand. Wind looks at it, staring at … nothing. No scrape or splinter. Still, the back of his hand pulses like a bomb about to go off. He grabs at it with his other hand, looking up to ask Hyrule to come look at it, only to catch a towering, ominous structure cut through the mist like the black eyes of a great predator looking back at him.
The Forsaken Fortress.
Wind flinches, jerking himself back just enough to slide off the tree branch, getting hit by thick branch after thick branch. His back and legs begin to ache fiercely, the wood hitting him hard as rock. He can never get in a good enough position to grab hold, his descent too fast and his body twisted in every wrong direction. There are shouts of alarm, rushes of brown and yellow and green and brown and bright blue. Someone grabs hold of his leg, and gets yanked down with him.
Wind raises his arms around his head and face, trying to protect it if he can’t save himself. At last, the ground appears beneath him. Whatevers holding onto his leg yanks the rest of him against it. Wind barely registers Wild’s blue tunic before they’re slamming into the dirt, Wind atop the champion.
He crawls to the grass, letting the champion breathe. What had he- What was over there? Wind tries to take deep breaths, half succeeding and half getting more leaves in his mouth. He spits out leaves and dirt and tries to steady himself. The fog plays tricks, The sailor reminds himself. Rocks become waves in fog.
“You alright there, Sailor?” Time crouches next to him, knees popping. “That was quite the fall.”
“I’m fine.” Wind isn’t even lying, his hand feels normal as ever.
Time nods, single eye taking in flakes of tree bark and dirt. “Next time, someone should probably supervise from below. I don’t think you saw Wild leaping and shaking the tree?”
“No.” Wind shakes his head. It’s worth the small lie to keep his mistake to himself. “But, Sky was kinda supervising?”
They both look over to where Sky is hovering next to Hyrule, the only one without a minder on his tail. The traveler is fine, but they catch Sky’s attention. “I was watching. Wind, it looked like you lost your balance suddenly, are you feeling sick? We’re already at camp, it’s fine to take a rest.”
“I’m not sick.” Wind deflects. “I just, didn’t realize Wild was rocking the tree so much until I slipped.”
“You didn’t see Wild leaping around like that as an issue?” Time says to Sky. It isn’t accusatory, but it’s judgment if Wind’s ever heard it. As if his kokiri-raised brother hadn’t had a worse sense of danger only a few years ago. Decades ago?
“I didn’t.” Sky pursed his lips. “Hyrule and Wind were fine for a long time, they could hold on through it.”
“But Wind didn’t.”
Yikes, Wind didn’t deflect so Sky could catch the heat instead. But stupidly, he hesitates to say he saw an impossible structure in an impossible position. A sea fortress on land.
That hesitation costs though.
“Statistically-“
“That’s enough. What’s done is done. Everyone is fine overall, that’s all that matters.” Time doesn’t even look at Sky to say any of this, instead brushing grime off Wind’s hand to peer at a dirtied scratch.
Sky releases a breath, and makes some distance between himself and their group of tree climbers and worriers.
“That’s what happens when you learn safety from a sword.” Time mutters, so low only Wind hears it enough to wince.
Yet, he spots Sky’s ears swiveling, pointing in their direction for a long moment. From the second Wind had discovered skyloftians had moving ears, he’d thought it was pretty cool. Now, though, Wind wonders just how far Sky can hear compared to the rest of them. Wolfie can hear a long ways away with his swiveling, pointed ears.
Sky shoots the briefest of side-eyes at Time, and Wind dreads the answer he already knows.
“What were you thinking!?”
Wind is dragged from his thoughts by Twilight’s disbelief. “Huh?”
Twilight faces Wind from where he’s helping Wild to his feet, face twisted in obvious dismay.
“You were way too high, do you even have your Deku Leaf on you?” Twilight scolds, looking down at Wind.
He doesn’t, actually. It’s with the rest of his gear. But it’s climbing a tree, not a mountain. He should’ve been fine. If the mist, if his mind, didn’t play some dirty trick of the warrior’s disease then he would’ve been fine.
“You don’t need to nag at me.” Wind sighs. “Accidents happen.”
“You could’ve broken something.” Twilight glares.
Honestly, Wind doesn’t think Twilight has any room to talk what with how unrepentant he is about almost dying not that long ago. What’s Wind’s crime, that he fell? Big deal.
… But it is a big deal to these guys. Wind glances at worried faces and shuffles his feet, crossing his arms. Ah, fucking seaslugs. Much as he hates it, he understands. He’d never let Aryll climb a tree almost taller than the lookout. Wind isn’t a little kid, though. He’s fallen much farther before and survived. Besides, do they expect him to be afraid of a broken bone? After everything?
“It was an accident.” Wind reiterates. He eyes Wild’s bruised face. He knows Twilight is only as protective as Wild is hurt, but it’s tiring sometimes. Wind hasn’t let himself be washed away by his emotions that same way in years, not since Aryll and Grandma needed him to step up. Why can’t Twilight keep his head, too?
“That’s not the point.” Twilight huffs. “Are you okay?”
Wind has half a mind to tell him what’s not okay right now, specifically Twilight’s overeager puppyguarding. Time beats him to it.
“The sailor is fine.” Time rises to put a hand on his descendant’s back, effectively leading him and Wild away. “Let’s have Hyrule and the Captain take a look at our wildling here.”
Like nothing, Twilight goes along with it. Wind lets himself have a second to mourn having that kind of respect, having people trust you enough to listen to you. His fingers curl as if holding a hand. It weighs him down suddenly how much he misses Aryll and the Great Sea. An anchor that slumps his shoulders and makes him feel ten times heavier. Then, he exhales and lets it go. By the Great Sea, Wind knows his brothers don’t mean it, the protectiveness and the nagging and the disrespect. But it chafes something fierce at times.
Sometimes he wants to yell at them like some seaslug that doesn’t know any better, but Wind does know better. Sometimes, he wishes his brothers knew better, too. Great Spirits, maybe he just wishes his brothers knew him better.
Wind huffs, shaking his head. He peeks at Wild, who is getting his face prodded by Wars. Guilt pokes at Wind, but he just walks back to his bag and bedroll. Wild made a choice to get dragged down for the sake of a falling child, Wind himself had very little to do with it.