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Twilight tipped his waterskin as far back as he could, craning his neck and shaking the leather pouch in desperation for anything to moisten his parched mouth. Nothing; it was bone-dry, just like the rest of this goddess-forsaken desert. He groaned, and when that alone did little to ease his discomfort and irritation, he cursed outright.
For 3 days the chain had been snaking through Wild’s Gerudo Canyon. With the stifling, blazing heat of a roiling sun, travel was impossible during the day. They traveled only in the frigid nights, battered by lizalfos and keese. Then when the sun peeked up over the distant sandy horizon, the temperature climbed and the brothers dipped into the nearest cave they could find. Usually one occupied by even more monsters, which meant a scuffle. By the time they’d fought their way into a safe place to spend the day, each one of their tunics was soaked through with precious moisture. They left their saturated clothing out in the baking sun to dry while the sweat evaporated from their bare skin in the blessed shade.
The caves tempered the heat decently enough, but waves of heady desert wind still buffeted their hideouts. Inside, they all were burning through supplies like a candle lit at both ends. Waterskins were running dry, and Wild’s stores of hydromelons in his Slate had to be judiciously rationed.
The rancher lay sprawled out across the dusty cave floor to radiate heat onto the cool earth below. He winced at the dull ache swirling through his lower back. All these sleepless nights (or days, rather) spent laying on rocky ground had not been kind to his spine. The pain started last night, when they’d awoken from a shallow sleep in an even shallower alcove. It was a pain with which Twilight was regrettably familiar. He must have tweaked a finnicky muscle, like he’d lifted a sack of goat feed the wrong way. The way it pinched, burned and spread out… Surely, that’s what it was, and nothing more. Back in Ordon Village, he’d chew a piece of willow bark and forget all about it. Here in the unforgiving landscape of the Gerudo, he’d have to tough it out. This was not a region that tolerated physical shortcomings.
The chain sat in silence, as many of their throats had gone scratchy and painful with dehydration. The day-night reversal left several of them overtired: grouchy and irritable. Sky was the only one taking it in stride, and that was only because the chosen hero could fall asleep literally anywhere, anytime. Twilight scowled at his brother; wow, he really was in a bad mood. With one angry fist he kneaded the knotted muscles above his tailbone. When that did nothing, he twisted to the side, hoping to wring out his spine like a dishrag. A few knobby vertebrae gave satisfying hollow pops, but when the maneuver sent a sharp jolt through the rancher’s flank he whipped back to a neutral position. Ouch. Ordona’s horns, I’m getting old…
“Sun’s setting,” Time remarked, startling Twilight. Indeed, the horizon outside had gone an ashy grey as the sun burned itself into a dusky oblivion. That was fast. Little metallic clinks echoed throughout their cave as the eldest donned his armor. “Let’s get moving. We need to reach the stable before dawn.”
Tittered murmurs, and some rude comments from Wind, bounced off the cave walls as they readied themselves for another leg of their journey. Legend jabbed the toe of his boot into Sky’s rump. The Skyloftian roused slowly and stupidly with a drunken sounding, “Huhh? Whoizzit, whasgoinon?”
“We’re leaving,” the veteran said. “Come on, get up. Before you’re lizal chow.” Sky sent up a vicious glance that wasn’t very intimidating with all the sleep dust in his eyes. With a significant amount of grumbling, he obeyed. The knight took a few moments to shake the sand from his sailcloth. Wars did the same with his scarf.
No sooner had they departed the cave than did a rush of keese coming divebombing back in. Wild loosed a few arrows into the cloud, felling a good half dozen. Twilight had to look away as the champion plucked the wings and eyes from their bodies. They’re perfectly good ingredients in elixirs, he said. You can hardly even taste them, he said. Bullshit.
Twilight found himself bringing up the back of the group. He was unable to match Time or Wars’ pace as they led the others with nonchalant, unspoken confidence. No, he couldn’t keep up, not with that pesky twinge in his back. Each step worsened the pain, until a limp started creeping in. He hoped the others wouldn’t notice.
Willowbark tea…
They’d scarcely gone a few paces before someone broke the silence.
“Are we there yet?” Wind keened. The sailor’s voice had gone gruff and husky as the vocal cords turned to jerky. He looked a little sunken in, too. The dark circles and grey outlines of his cheekbones definitely weren’t there before. The desert had to be harder on the kid than the others; normally, he drank like a fish. Comes with the territory, I guess.
Wild rolled his eyes, drew in a deep sigh to collect himself before answering. “We’ll get there before dawn,” he hissed. “Long as you move those stubby little legs of yours,” he added under his breath. Wind warped his fingers into a Hylian sign he knew Wild knew the meaning of. The champion sent one back, and before long they’d launched into a wordless battle of profanity.
So thirsty… Twilight’s whole body ached for a full waterskin. Bulging and sloshing with crystal clear spring water--
Without warning, Twilight was seized with a sudden and overwhelming need to urinate. The cramping, overfull sensation had him bent over at the hips and cramming a hand between his thighs. He scarcely had time to reflect on how odd it was, that 30 seconds ago he’d felt absolutely nothing and yet now he swore his bladder held the entirety of Lake Hylia… despite not having had anything to drink in well over 12 hours. The need was urgent and desperate and painful.
“Hol’ on a sec’,” he panted to the others up ahead as he stumbled off the beaten sandy path to the canyon wall off to one side. “Gotta piss.” His brothers watched his ungainly shuffle with thinly veiled annoyance. At least Sky and Four had the decency to turn their backs and give him a modicum of privacy.
“You know he lifts his leg to pee on things, right?” Legend ‘whispered’ to Hyrule, but plenty loud enough for the rest of the chain to hear. A chorus of muffled snickers erupted as the rancher fumbled with his trousers and chainmail.
“That ain’t true!” Twilight called over his shoulder. He was able to undo his pants with what felt like mere seconds to spare. He sighed. But then… almost nothing. Despite his body’s perceived urgency, the amount he was actually able to produce was measly to say the least. With a burning, salt-in-a-wound sensation, he passed a few tea-colored drips, then a penultimate pause and finally… one drop of watery blood.
??
He balked, frozen in utter confusion and yet still wincing at how meager his relief was. Was that really…? Yes, yes it was. The unmistakable crimson droplet sat upon the sand for a moment before its moisture was drunk up by the thirsty silt. It stained the grains as the ferrous pigment began to oxidize. And over the nitrogenous smell was the unmistakable tang of iron.
The desert air grew colder and colder just then. Its frozen whispers pricked up the tiny hairs on Twilight’s nape, snaked between the links of his chainmail, seized the muscles until they shivered. In the hero’s skull, the thumping drumbeat of a hastening heart drowned out all the thoughts. The humors that bathed his brain began to boil with fear. Twilight wracked his knowledge for anything, anything that could explain why he’d just pissed blood. He could think of nothing. Nothing good, at least.
It was apparent nothing else was going to come out. With a gulp and shaking hands, he redid the laces of his trousers and stepped back towards the group. It took all of his conscious effort not to let the apprehension show on his face. Judging by a few of the looks he got, namely from Time and Four, he wasn’t doing a good job at hiding it.
“Everything come out okay?” Legend ribbed, completely oblivious to the rancher’s demeanor.
Twilight gave no response: no witty retort, no incomprehensible Ordonian drawl, nothing. He merely brushed past the veteran and shuffled ahead with a stiff, pained gait. Twilight allowed one hand to rest atop his lower belly, cupping the abused and spasming curve of his bladder. Similarly, he ignored the strange looks and raised eyebrows.
Legend huffed something about Twilight being “So sensitive” as Time ordered them all to continue.
The rancher’s mind reeled while his feet shuffled onward.
An infection?
Some kind of injury?
I really ought to tell Time about this…
Time and Wars were a decent ways away, marching while keeping a far-off hibernating lizalfos in their line of sight.
It could be something worse. Really serious.
It can’t be nothing. It has to be something.
Time can help.
We’ll get to the stable and everything will be okay.
It hurts.
Sky was falling into pace beside him. And he had that look going. The “I’m here if you want to talk, I can tell something is on your mind” look. It was a sympathetic half-smile, with warm inviting eyes. Genuine and loving, just like the chosen hero.
Twilight opened his mouth to speak, then closed it when a twinge in the small of his back began to crackle. It was the only warning before…
An all-encompassing paroxysmal cramp rocketed through Twilight, starting from one flank and blooming downwards to his pelvic floor. The muscles cramped so agonizingly, like he’d been stabbed with a serrated knife crackling with the power of Faron lightning. It was powerful enough to curdle his guts, pitch him to his hands and knees in the sand with an empty gag pulled from the depths of his stomach. It came in waves, Oh, Goddess, it came in fiery needle-waves like a blade dragged along the sinewy inner lining of his abdomen. He jammed two white-knuckled fists between his legs, then screeched when the pressure brought no relief: just more pain.
Twilight gnashed his teeth near hard enough to bite right through his mandible. He paddled his legs, anything to ride out the excruciating visceral waves. As he alternated between screeches and pained whimpers, his chapped, dehydrated lips split open. The tiny canyons between flakes of skin began to well up with blood.
The eight others whipped around at the sounds. Most shot their hands to their weapons before they even had time to process. Then once they did, their horror at the display was immediate. Gasps rang out, with a few cries of Twilight’s name. Time and Warriors were the only ones not rendered immobile at the sight of Twilight’s agonal seizing in the sand. The two were at his side and on their knees in a matter of seconds.
“Rancher!” Wars gasped. “Twilight, what is it? What’s wrong?!”
Twilight couldn’t hear him over the sound of his own screams.
Warriors launched into a systematic assessment like he’d done a thousand times on the battlefield. But this time, the thoughts wouldn’t flow. All the instincts had just, gone dark. This wasn’t the battlefield, and this wasn’t one of his men. This was Twilight, his brother, and there was something killing him. He fumbled dumbly with the man’s body, recoiling every time he thrashed. Goddess, he felt dumb, he felt useless! He let loose a string of the most vulgar curses he knew.
Time ran his fingers through Twilight’s tangled hair, and they came back dripping with icy sweat. Doing so did little to comfort the rancher, who had become inconsolable. He scanned the horizon for monsters and, finding none, turned back to Twilight.
“Twilight,” Time pleaded. “What hurts? Can you tell us?” Twilight continued to pant, only giving garbled nonsense words neither man could make out. Time and Wars exchanged panicked glances.
Warriors tried a different tactic.
“Is it your stomach?”
Twilight moaned and thrashed, kicking up a plume of sand.
“Your back?”
His abdomen contracted he gave another croaking retch. Still, no comprehensible words. Too much pain.
This isn’t helpful, the captain lamented. He looked up to Time, whose eyes had gone wide in a rare display of panic. Eyes. Both of them, open and fearful.
“Mi-” Twilight choked. He gasped, went tetanic, and raked at his belly. There was something in there, it had claws, it was trying to kill him… “M’dna. Mi… ‘lp. Heh—‘lp me.”
Midna?
“I don’t know what’s going on,” Wars breathed. He stared across at Time. “I mean, i-it could be, uh… appendicitis, or some kind of p-puh-poison, or… I don’t know, Sprite, I really don’t know. He needs help, now.” He had both hands steadying Twilight’s shoulder, trying in vain to calm him or ease his pain or something. Nothing he could do could help the rancher, and the resentment that brought made his words waver.
Time had gone silent. In the back of the eldest hero’s mind, a memory was replaying. Not a pleasant memory, no; rather the opposite. A memory with blood and sweat and piss and tears. One on which he hadn’t dwelled in years, for how awful it had been to live through. But there was a reason it’d rocketed to the forefront of his consciousness, because he suspected his descendent was living through it too.
“Kidney,” he huffed. “Kidney stone. I think he has a kidney stone.” Time’s gaze drifted to Twilight’s lower abdomen, where the rancher was furiously jamming fists clenched so hard the fingernails sliced the palms. He was trembling so terribly.
Warriors looked incredulous for a moment. Kidney? Stone? What in Farore’s green earth did he— oh. He pondered. Yes, he’d heard of such a thing. Horror stories from men in his troops. Pain so excruciating it made war-hardened soldiers pray for the sweet release of death. One man had said he’d sooner go through childbirth than relive the experience, much to his wife’s offense. It made Warriors ill to think of Twilight enduring such pain.
Twilight felt a fire in his pelvis that was searing his innards from inside out. It made him strain, and that made it worse. So, so much worse. It felt like his guts were tearing, their walls ripped like a wet sheet of papyrus. The pain was so all-consuming it brought with it a horrible nausea. He gagged, one after the other, but never bringing anything up. The retches just coalesced into fitful screams.
Make it stop, please, make it stop!
“Pup,” Time winced, doing all he could to steady his tone. “You’re going to be okay. We’re going to get you help. Just hold on, okay? Hold on for me.” Time pulled up the boy’s tunic to wipe away the sweat he was pouring forth. They didn’t have any potions left, nor any fairies, nothing to help.
“LEGEND!” Wars ordered. The veteran balked, but shook himself from the paralytic shock. He stepped forward. “You need to run to the stable at the end of the canyon. Get help, get something or someone, anything. Do you understand?” The captain waited for Legend to acknowledge the orders. With an audible nervous gulp, he nodded. “Good, now go!”
Legend’s Pegasus boots roared to life, sending him rocketing through the desert until he disappeared around a distant rocky crag with a tall plume of dust behind him.
“Legend will be back soon,” Time mumbled, partly to Warriors, partly to Twilight, and mostly to himself. “He’s gone to get help. You’re going to be okay, pup.” Twilight whimpered. At least the fit seemed to be receding, as he was no longer actively thrashing about. Still, the wolf’s eyes were unfocused and he was giving off waves of febrile heat.
Wild dashed forward in Legend’s stead, kneeling in the sand beside Wars and Time. He took in his mentor’s trembling frame, the champion’s mouth open and eyes wet in disbelief. “What’s wrong?” He stuttered. “Is he okay? Why’s he in so much pain?” Wild reached out to shake Twilight’s shoulders, rouse him back into consciousness, but Warriors stopped him.
“Sprite thinks it’s his kidneys,” Warriors parroted. “They can, um, they can make little stones that get stuck on their way out. It’s… said to be one of the most painful things someone can go through.” The captain regretted that last part, as it prompted Time to send a “Not helping” glare and nearly launched Wild into sobbing.
Down in the sand, Twilight’s fit gave him enough respite to focus bleary eyes up on the faces of his brothers. They snapped their attention downward.
“Twilight!” Wild cried out, using both hands to cup his mentor’s face. It was splotchy and red, leathery under the thick layer of sweat.
“Can you hear me?”
He managed a moan.
“Listen, pup,” Time butted in softly. “When you peed earlier, was there blood in it?”
Wild furrowed his brow at the other hero’s question, but looked expectantly back down at the rancher.
Twilight gave a furious nod before bursting into tears. No longer were they screams, but actual, well-formed sobs. “Fe—feel like… ‘m dyin’.” That last word was like a boulder right to Time’s chest. Cracking the ribs, piercing the heart…
“You’re not dying,” Wars reassured Twilight and his cub. “You’re just a little sick right now. We’ll get you some help.”
Twilight only curled up tighter in the fetal position. Both arms wrapped around his belly, forming a protective cage. He let the sobs take over. He was too dehydrated to form tears to go with them. Wild wracked his brain, trying to think of anything he had stored in the Slate that could help. Nothing came to mind. All they could offer as they waited for Legend were empty words of reassurance.
After what felt like an eternity, a steady drumming of nearby hoofbeats echoed through the canyon, bouncing of its dusty walls. Two horses, Time counted. Galloping, and approaching from the southwest. The direction of the stable. The eldest focused upon the horizon, praying it was their veteran returning to their aid. Or a friendly, helpful passerby. Just no monsters, please, not now.
Sure enough, a chestnut mare and a bay gelding came charging to view. Legend sat atop the gelding. He struggled to stay mounted, bouncing in the saddle with a one-handed death grip on the animal’s reins. In his other hand were the mare’s reins. She was tacked up, but riderless alongside the bay. Both animals were being driven forward as fast as their limbs could take them. Legend was riding like a madman.
“I’ll explain more later,” Time said to Wild. “In the meantime, you need to take the others and find a safe place to stay. Watch out for stalmonsters. We’ll get him to the stable; meet us there before sunup. Okay?”
Wild nodded, but still looked like he was about to start crying in earnest at any moment.
Time turned then to Wars, who was dabbing viscous frothy spittle from Twilight’s mouth with his own scarf. “Captain, you go with them. Tell Hyrule to come with me and Twilight.” Warriors drew back. With a stretch, he tugged at the straps of his shoulder guard to ratchet it even tighter.
He pushed up, standing and returning to the group. With a final glance back at Twilight and Time, he ushered the chain towards a vacant-looking cave lined with thick stalactites. Wild pulled Hyrule to the side to relay Time’s message. Even from a distance, Time could see the confusion plain as day on the traveler’s face. Yet he was blessedly obedient, and padded over just as Legend arrived with the horses.
Legend dismounted, body wracked with desperate pants. “Got there—huff – as fast ‘s… I could. *koff koff* Said to—take the horses—huff—and ride back, soon ‘s poss’ble…” Then the veteran steepled over his knees, drinking in raspy breaths. Hyrule ignored him, focusing down on Twilight. He was already gathering the energies of a healing spell, palms glowing as a soft light danced about the fingertips. Little sparks fizzled in the deepening desert dusk.
“Not yet,” Time ordered. They couldn’t heal Twilight here, if they could in fact heal him at all. No, they needed to reach the stable: with supplies and shelter and people. “Hyrule, take one of the horses. I’ll take the other. He’ll ride with me.” The eldest nodded down at Twilight. “You’ll heal him when we get to the stable.” Hyrule gave a solemn nod. “Legend, go and join the others.” He laid a hand stop the boy’s shoulder, felt it heave up and down with each pant. “You did well.”
Legend screwed up his face into a cryptic grimace before limping back to the rest of the chain. At long last, it was just Time, Hyrule, and Twilight. Time heaved himself to his feet, groaning at the sandy grit feeling in the tiny cavities of his knees. Hyrule tried to help. Then the old man bent back down, gave an almighty wrench, and scooped Twilight up into a bridal carry. The rancher howled as the movement jostled his smarting insides. Hyrule yelped at the unnerving sound.
“Help-,” Time huffed, taking the gentlest steps he could manage. “Help me get him onto the mare.”
Both Time and Hyrule took awkward grips on Twilight’s limp body, hoisting him atop the horse’s withers. She sidestepped, threw her head, but Time cooed until she steadied herself. He watched as Twilight, barely holding on to wakefulness, threaded his fingers through the mare’s mane. Coarse brown strands brushed over the knuckles. The rancher was draped forward onto the animal’s neck, wrapped around it with weak limbs. He took a small sniff, breathing in her dusty, barnyard smell, and melted. She wasn’t Epona, but feeling an animal’s body against his own was comfort enough. It eased the pain just a little bit.
Once Hyrule had scrambled up onto the other horse, Time mounted the mare. It was a tight squeeze, and he could tell the animal was not pleased under the weight of two riders. He pleaded internally that she could carry the both of them back to the stable without issue.
Exchanging a commanding glance with the traveler, Time struck the mare’s side with his heels. She gave a harsh, echoic whinny before launching into a full gallop.
We were half a day’s walk from the stable back there, Time reasoned. Riding this fast, it shouldn’t take us too long to make it.
Not too long, pup.
The mare knew the way home. She drove forward taking little direction from the reins. Which was a blessing, as it allowed Time to funnel all the attention he could upon Twilight. The wolf hadn’t said or moved much since the first fit receded. Time watched how he winced with each hoofbeat, counted the small breaths he took: too fast.
Twilight going rigid was the only sign before he launched into another paroxysm. He fell headfirst into a roiling pit of agony, screaming nonsense into the desert sky as hot claws raked inside him. Everything from the navel down seized. It all churned, stabbed, wrenched against something lodged deep inside. A terrible wave of desperation shot through his lower abdomen, and he yelped when a small spurt of urine leaked out. It burned, burned like hellfire, and there was no end… In a desperate attempt to save itself, his brain severed all connections between it and its body; all the muscles deflated without higher input, sending him pitching forward. Time grabbed him before he fell from the horse. He, too, nearly fell. The mare danced about under the shifting weights until he wrenched her back to order. Time gathered her reins with one hand, the other looped about Twilight’s taut belly. He leaned the unconscious boy back into his own chest. With a fierce kick of the stirrups, he willed the horse to charge ahead with everything she could give. Hyrule struggled to keep pace with the gelding.
There!
The tall wooden horsehead jutting up into the desert sky was now visible in the distance. Grey plumes of smoke bellowed from its nostrils, as the hearth within the stable was evidently well-fed. A few stablehands were standing in the clearing out front, waving their hands to usher the pair over. A black-and-tan Hylian retriever paced around a small paddock underneath a tall rock formation. Within the paddock, the few horses pricked their wide ears up at the approaching disturbance. Time tightened his hold on Twilight.
“Almost there,” he murmured. He planted a faint kiss atop the boy’s head. Gone was his normal, earthy scent. Now he was bathed in the stench of chemical illness. “Just hold on.”
When the hero pulled his horse up to the front of the stable, a woman rushed forward to grab its bridle. She was boxy: equal parts tall and broad, built like a true farmgirl. Her thick eyebrows were knit in concern as she took in the sight of the two riders on her mare.
“This is the injured one?” She barked with a gruff, yet not unkind voice. Her eyes fixated on Twilight. The woman helped Time dismount, keeping a steadying hand on Twilight’s still-unconscious body. They were able to slide his limp form off the animal’s back and into Time’s arms. “Your boy in the red tunic mentioned he was in rough shape. Seems to be that way.” She ran a calloused hand along Twilight’s sallow cheek, plucked away stray hairs. Her eyes fell upon his markings and narrowed.
“He also mentioned you have a healer with you. That him?” She jabbed a bulbous thumb in Hyrule’s direction, where he was clumsily dismounting from the gelding. The traveler scrambled over to Time and the woman, tripping in the tamped-down sand. He gave an awkward wave, which she acknowledged with a curt nod. “Let’s get the boy inside so your healer can attend to him.” The woman broke off to shout orders at the stable workers. They scattered like dedicated worker bees under her command. Time didn’t catch their names. He simply followed her lead across the clearing, under the awning, and into the stable. Twilight wriggled in his arms; the man froze, waiting with bated breath for his descendent to say something, anything, but it was false hope. He hadn’t the strength for consciousness.
The wide-open walls did little to keep the sand out of the stable’s inn area. Everything inside was covered in a fine grit that prickled the sinuses. To the side was a small dining setup, and in the back a row of four-poster beds. One of the beds was newly made up. On its beside table was a collection of various medical supplies: a stack of towels, rolls of bandages, cork-stoppered bottles containing potions of every color, and a metal tray holding delicate instruments bathing in harsh alcohol.
Time set Twilight down atop the ragged, pilly stable comforter. The mattress was oversoft, so the rancher’s unconscious body sunk into the downy filling. Time surveyed the supplies again. The stablehands had demonstrated commendable generosity, but there was not much there of use. What Twilight needed was Hyrule’s magic.
“We’ll give you privacy,” the stable woman conceded. Wiping hands on her filthy apron, she padded away. Calling over one shoulder, she added, “We’ll be out in the pasture if you need more hands. Good luck.”
The younger hero blinked up at Time with moist eyes. “So what’s wrong with him? Is he gonna be okay?” Hyrule gave Twilight a cursory scan, looking for any obvious injuries. There were none to be found. But he knew, intuitively, that something was gravely wrong. The kid had never heard Twilight—never heard anyone—scream like that before.
Words began to fail Time. He knew little of Hyrule’s medical knowledge nor the mechanisms of his magic. He only scowled. “Kidney stone,” he grumbled. He fixed that one-eyed stare down upon his pup, willing the kid to move. It wasn’t working. “A little rock, forms inside the kidneys. They, uh, tear things up along the way out. It’s incredibly painful. And they can get stuck, which is very serious. That’s what’s happening with Twilight.”
Horror flashed across Hyrule’s face. He couldn’t imagine a more viscerally disgusting thing if he tried. But he made it clear that he understood Time’s simple explanation. Sympathy made the kid’s guts curdle like milk left in the sun.
“Sometimes they come out on their own,” Time continued. “But if they’re too big, they need to be broken up. You need to use your magic to do that, okay?”
Immediately, Hyrule shook his head. Violently, fiercely, side to side. No, no way, no way. “I can’t do that,” he whimpered. “I don’t—know, I mean, I’ve never done something like this before. I—I could hurt him, really hurt him, Time.”
“Shh,” Time shushed the boy. “You have to. And you won’t hurt him. You’re helping him. This isn’t going to go away on its own; he’s only going to be in more pain. Come on, I know you can do this. I promise. Do you believe me?”
With a wet sniffle, Hyrule weighed the words. Sure, he probably could do what Time was asking (again, that was a probably). He’d do anything it took not to see his brother writhing in the dirt, screaming like he was being tortured. But his magic was running dry, boiled away in the harshness of the desert… and truth be told, he really didn’t know what he was doing. Hylia, if he hurt Twilight he couldn’t live with himself. It was all so overwhelming…
Hyrule gulped, wiped sweat from his forehead, and called upon what little magic stores he had left. He sent a low wave of energy into Twilight’s belly, assessing how it bounced around, pierced, and echoed within the cavity. Even when deeply unconscious, the wolf’s body seized in the throes of nociception. The traveler’s magic spluttered, petered out in fear, but Time urged him to continue.
Steeling himself against his brother’s display, Hyrule ramped the energy up again. His fingers tingled with power, and the vibrations were making them go numb entirely. The hero could sense something lodged deep in Twilight’s abdomen up along the posterior body wall: an unwelcome presence, gritty and jagged. Something out of place. He concentrated harder, focusing his magic on the area. The waves of mana grew sharper, more rapid. Inside his own chest, Hyrule’s heart hastened. The effort it was taking to draw from his magic made him woozy. Feeling lighter, and simultaneously like he was being pulled down to the floor. The feeling of fainting. But he had to fight through it, for Twilight’s sake.
“Easy, now,” Time warned. He could see color draining from Hyrule’s face, saw the great billowing lights begin to fade. Just in case, he placed both hands at the boy’s waist to steady him.
Keep going, Hyrule panted. Gotta… keep going. The waves were ricocheting off of the solid target. Echoing in the cavern of his ears, he could hear faint crackles. He also tasted blood. When did it get so cold in here? And if it was so cold, why was he sweating?
“Hyrule,” Time pressed again.
One… more push, he wailed. Hissing, he pulled the last few pulses of magic from deep within his being and sent them rocketing forth. Suddenly, the hero felt like he’d been plunged into a deep ocean. A warm one, where he floated without weight in endless nothingness. The last thing he heard was a muffled crack, like a boulder cleaved by a claymore, and the last thing he saw was a dark crimson blackness.
Consciousness came to Twilight, with pain close on its heels. A deep, throbbing, torn-up pain that bloomed outward from his ribs and down through his crotch. He broke into a moan at the ever-present spasmodic burn, like there was barbed wire threaded through his whole urinary tract.
Where am I…?
The dusty air, smell of farm animals and hay and mildewy wood… it had to be a stable. Indeed, outside the nickers of horses could be heard over the faint sounds of their hooves tamping down loam. The rancher couldn’t move his body to look about, just his eyes. Everything else hurt too much. All the muscles smarted like they’d been pulled past the point of ripping. On the edge of his vision was a figure. That was all he could make out. Twilight tried to wriggle his appendages to life. When that sent bell tolls of referred pain through his crotch, he went still again.
Seated beside the bed, Twilight’s initial rousing pulled Hyrule from a faint snooze. Immediately he was standing, hovering over the rancher. He cursed; leaping up had brought inkblots to his vision.
“Twilight!” He cried, yet still trying not to topple over. “How do you feel?”
Twilight blinked grit from his eyes before looking the traveler up and down. He too seemed worse for wear: hair dull and lifeless, eyes dim, skin pale. It was clear he’d been overtaxing his magic. Guilt pulled Twilight’s gaze off to the side.
“Like I’ve been kicked in the balls, Rulie,” he managed. The broad, toothy smile his brother gave made a chuckle tumble from the rancher’s lips. But it was cut short, as even the tiniest laugh sent a jolt of pain through his groin so overwhelming he grabbed himself underneath the bedsheets.
Hyrule cringed. “Here,” he offered, plucking a large glass from the bedside table. It was full to the brim with a flocculent, pale yellow drink, with condensation dribbling down its side.
The sight of liquid was a godsend. Twilight snatched the glass greedily and drank the entire thing down with obscene, gasping gulps.
“Woah, slow down, you’ll make yourself sick,” Hyrule remarked. He watched with metered horror, maybe a little impressed, as Twilight chugged.
Twilight hiccupped and handed the empty cup back to his brother. Then, he smacked his lips against the drink’s aftertaste. The familiar citrusy tang… it brought back memories of warm Ordon summers, working the fields and sitting under porch awnings with Ilia. He hummed.
“Lemonade?”
With the creak of old stable floorboards, Twilight felt a presence approach his bedside. He dare not move a muscle to watch whoever it was shuffle over, for fear of setting off another spasm. But he recognized those footsteps.
“Yes, lemonade,” Time said. “Acidic. It helps dissolve the stones so they pass easier.” He sat gently on the bed beside his descendent, brushing his hair back and tracing the pattern between his eyebrows. “If it makes you feel any better, Wild made it special for you. Malon did the same thing for me when I went through this.”
“You had the same thing as Twi?” Hyrule cocked his head.
With a grimace, Time gave a dark nod. “Yes. It was a… humbling experience.” He offered a wry smile down towards the rancher. “You know, in your wedding vows, you say ‘In sickness and in health.’ They don’t mention holding a bucket for your husband to throw up into while he sits on the toilet and cries for 6 hours.”
The imagery was so vivid it made Twilight even more nauseous. Hyrule simply put up his hands and walked away.
Time had a good laugh at his own expense. Then he offered a knowing glance down to Twilight. “When the healer came that visit me that night, he mentioned that things like this tend to run in bloodlines.” He shrugged. “Sorry, I guess.”
The wolf smirked. “Thanks for that, old man.” He softened. “Thank you for everything. I’m sorry I gave y’all such a scare.” Twilight prickled just then, permitting a brooding caul to settle over his features.
“None of that,” Time muttered. He dismissed the concern with a heartfelt smile. “You just need to focus on resting up. Okay?”
“Yessir,” Twilight hummed.
“Good.” He tousled Twilight’s hair, then grimaced at the greasy film it left on his fingers. Pup needs a bath, he thought. “Now, can I get you anything?”
Twilight pondered for a moment. Then he grinned, impishly. A smile he’d learned from someone in another world. “More lemonade, please.”