thoughtsofvorfreude | Snap and Crackle

The flames wavered in the slight breeze that came through the sparse trees, but whoever had built the fire had done a good enough job: the flames were well-rooted in a thick log and they didn't die so easily. When the cool breeze had passed the fire remained, and it warmed a few feet around it so the night's air was much more tolerable.

Nearby, head lowered and munching on grass, a sleek brown horse stood. She had no saddle on her, no bridle or reins, and chomped away without a care. Beside her were the very ends of a few carrots, a reward for a day of off-and-on galloping. She huffed and shook her head, tail swishing, but as she grazed she remained near to the fire.

Several saddlebags had been unloaded off the horse and set down carefully, a few belongings removed: a metal pan, some cooking utensils and supplies, and a small sack of vegetables. Beside them were a few satchels and bags of curios, items and esoteric weapons that were visible where the flaps had come open. The warrior who owned them was, for the moment, nowhere in sight. But the princess--because of course, there was a princess--didn't have to wait too long for him: after a few moments he emerged from the darkened plains, just before the sun disappeared completely behind the hills. He carried twine with two hares strung to it by their back paws, necks at odd angles. When he saw the princess he smiled.

"I'm back. I hope I didn't take too long."

"No, of course not." She seemed drawn in a little by the sight of the animals, her lips pursing. Not judging, not in the way one might think, but it became apparent that wasn't the kind of thing she was used to seeing. Being a princess, of course, it made sense. She rarely saw her 'food' before it was exactly that. She didn't say anything, too polite to really do that, but she did hope he wouldn't hand them to her like that-- she wouldn't have any idea what to do with the rabbits, still furred and possible to look at her.

She glanced back down to the fire, where water was boiling, waiting to be blessed with the many different flavors they had to work with. The pan he had given her glowing just faintly on the bottom from the heat of the fire, the flames licking their way up toward the sides but not quite coming up enough to be troublesome.

"Thank you for getting us something." She offered up gently, her hands folding over her thighs, feeling over the new fabric. She wasn't used to this kind of clothing-- restrictive to her legs in a way her dress has never been. "I have to admit that's something I'd probably not ever really be able to do." Peach was too soft hearted, the idea of hunting didn't bother her, yet all the same she knew she wouldn't be able to do it. Just the thought of staring down an animal and preparing to kill it made her chest tightened in an uncomfortable way. There was no point in thinking about it now. Never mind the fact that there was nothing to do for the rabbits now. It'd be a shame for them to do anything other than eat them.

"Is there anything else you need me to do?"

She didn't scoot away or flinch, exactly, but it was impossible to miss how she drew inwards at the sight of the trussed-up rabbits. Link winced and reprimanded himself for the lapse in judgment: of course Peach was distanced from the nature of her food. Of course she wouldn't quite know what to do if she was handed two recently dead animals. Did she know how to prepare them? He didn't think it was terribly likely. Frankly, it was a miracle she even knew how to cook!

"My pleasure," Link said, and sat down a little ways away from the princess. "I'll get these dressed and then you can cook them." He gave her a glance, appreciating how her new clothes fit on her: before, she'd seemed terribly out of place. Peach had seemed as if she'd been plucked from a distant kingdom and set down in his world by some unseen force; indeed, it was exactly what had happened! But now she looked as if she belonged here, at least a little more. Link hadn't changed his own look--he still wore his trademark green tunic and white pants, brown boots and even the pointed hood on his head. Plus, of course, the many accessories he wore.

"I don't need anything in particular just yet," he told her as he turned half away from the princess. He set one of the rabbits on his lap and began to dress it, hiding the messy details as best he could. "But maybe you could tell me more about the Mushroom Kingdom." He took a knife out of his boot, the blade glinting in the firelight, then took it out of the princess's sight. A few rips and tears could be heard, almost drowned out by the crackling fire.
"Do you have any friends or allies, besides that hero?"

He didn't have to work too hard to hide his work, Peach wasn't at all interested in watching. Beyond that she was thankful to have his help with it-- she had been quietly stewing in trying to figure out how she would get through the work herself. Her throat flexed a little as she swallowed, but she was happy to keep chatting with him. Her fingers toyed ever so gently with the hem as she thought about it. What was there of home that he would find interesting? Well...

"There is Daisy, she's like a sister to me, she's in the neighboring kingdom; then Toadsworth who cared for me after my parents..." She trailed off briefly, before she continued. "Luigi, who is the hero's brother, he's a bit timider but no less kind." A little laugh from her as she folded her hands in her lap. Bright blues fluttered closed as she tried to remember her home, and the many people she had encountered there.

"There is also Toad, who just begun adventuring when I came here, learning bravery and enjoying his life, and Toadette who did much of the same." A soft smile touched her lips. "There are many denizens, though I don't get to venture out as often as I'd like." A little puff of a breath ruffling her hair, "And what about you, my friend?"

He listened as he did his work, casting an eye back over his shoulder at the princess. He knew the process of cleaning wild game intimately enough by this point that he could almost do it with his eyes closed.
Almost.

"Daisy," he repeated. "Do you get to see her often? Zelda often complains that politics tie her up too severely to allow her much travel. Let alone friendly visits." He frowned slightly. "Well, complains when I see her. Which isn't often." He nodded at the mention of yet another hero trying and failing to save Peach. He couldn't help but feel as if he was doing a little better in his own world.
Were they searching for her in their own way? He wondered it all of a sudden. And was there a chance that his own princess, Zelda, might be missing from his lands?
The thought filled him with dread as well as a sense of shame. Could he really claim to be any better than the heroes in Peach's world if Zelda was taken?

There wasn't any sense in thinking about it now. Link put it from his mind.

He had been listening, nodding his head and making the appropriate noises, until something broke through his thoughts. She would notice his back suddenly straightening, stiffening, his posture seizing.
Friend.
"I..."

The word filled him with a complex set of emotions that swelled from his chest and caught in his throat. He cleared it but didn't quite manage to feel normal again.
"I... what was the question?"

"Not as often as I'd like," she admitted with ease, though it wasn't as if she wasn't bothered by that. She missed Daisy, often, but with the work the both of them often had it wasn't as if they could spend as much time as they did when they were children. She liked the other Princess' company, but that didn't mean she was entitled to it. Especially not more so than the people of her kingdom. "We get together sometimes for sporting activities and other things when the both of us are allowed the time. It's really the best we can do with things as they are now. She's got a bit more free time than I do, so perhaps it's my fault, but all in all I'm glad she still makes the effort to see me when she can."

She wondered just what he had gotten caught on in his head, what thoughts plagued him and kept words off of his lips. Yet, she knew, perhaps now was not the time to ask. Some things were just better off left alone, and there was no doubt a man like Link valued his privacy. Or perhaps he was just used to it.

"I was asking about friends, or allies, of your own?"

"That's too bad," he remarked stiffly. The rabbit on the line had been swiftly, expertly reduced to a set of isolated parts: thighs, flanks, skin, bones. His small knife slid through sinew and parted the pieces from each other until they could be neatly set to the side. Then the second hare followed.

"Right," he said, and tried to relax his shoulders. "Well..." he cleaned the knife with two quick wipes on the fur of the rabbit in his lap. "There are plenty of good people in this land. You've met two of them already, and there are more I think you'll like." He cocked his head and thought, then rattled off a short list. "Zelda is Hyrule's princess. I think you might like her. In fact, there are other princesses in other lands: Ruto, of the Zora, she can be a little... overbearing. Medli isn't quite a princess of the bird people, but she's close. And there's Nabooru, who we're going to see next. She's... unique," he said at last, unsure quite how to categorize her.

"As for friends, I made a few in my childhood: Saria, who I grew up with, Malon, a farm girl, Kafei, a man who was turned into a child by magic..." he grinned over his shoulder at her. "Long story."
"Since growing up..."
"Well, there's you, of course," he remarked stiffly. And he held his breath while he waited for her response.

Her smile brightened, clearly showing she didn't mind his inference at all. After all she thought of herself as herself as his friend, she had basically said as much to him. Though him returning it filled her with a sort of warmth. "I'm glad for that." She chimed in sweetly, as she organized her little pack some, making sure she had room to carry new things should they need to. Not that her mind was really on it, instead it was going through his words. It wasn't much, but it was something new to her. Besides the fact she hadn't made a new friend in a while. New enemies, perhaps, as the Koopa King was industrious if nothing else-- but friends were harder to come by. Especially for a Princess who was not often allowed to leave the gates of her castle.

"You've been quite a friend to me in such a short time." More than that, really, but she supposed that's why he was called a hero. He had saved her and was still saving her, more or less. Helping her discover how she was brought here, and if she was lucky, how to get home. Ie was a difficult task, one most might not do just out of the kindness of their heart. Even if she would. She knew that rescuing people wasn't for everyone. As much as she'd want to be able to do it for others, herself, she knew that was also not as easy as just hoping and dreaming.

"So thank you."

A happy smile slipped onto his face without him intending it, and he turned away from her to hide his sudden embarrassment. Some simple words from her had made his cheeks burn--not something he was terribly used to.
But it was becoming more common.

"I'm glad you think so," he said honestly: "I don't think I'd be able to live with myself. if I didn't help people who need it. You're more capable than most people I meet, but I can at least show you around." He shot her a wink and a smile, still warm from the sweet words she'd given him. "I'm sure you'd do the same for me if I was lost in your lands. What if I was locked away in some castle among your mushroom followers? I'd definitely need some guidance."
"After all, that's what... friends are for," he continued, still sounding as if he was testing out the words, giving her an opportunity to retract her offer of friendship.
Just in case.

The work was, at last, done. He bundled up the rest and brought the princess the meat from the hares: eight thighs on the bone, and two quartered saddles of thicker, softer meat. They glistened softly in the firelight, still wet and still fresh. "Thank you for waiting. Do you need anything else?"
He was excited to see her at work. Link could cook, sure, but there wasn't much skill in it: he just heated the meat up until it was ready, and that was it. He had a hunch her cooking might have a little more heart in it.

"I promise if it comes to it I'll rescue you." Her face colored a bit but there was no hiding the wide smile that tugged at her lips. Something gentle, kind, but absolutely warmed by his words. She allowed herself to look to the meat; paling just faintly. She was used to meat, but never thought much of where it came from. Not that she'd complain. He had gone the extra mile to try and provide them with something to eat, and meat was a good form of nourishment.

She accepted it onto her lap, squirming a little to get comfortable before she looked through the things they had to offer for a knife. Gently beginning to slice things up. She wasn't as familiar with Rabbit, of course, but most meat could be cooked into a good enough stew given time. The vegetables and other things would cover the possibly gamey taste of it.

Rolling it around a little she cut it into little cubes, allowing it to cook quicker-- after all, it would take far too long in big pieces of meat. That settled, she began to dice up the veggies, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as her fingers worked ever so deftly with a knife. It was clear this is where her experience lies. She hasn't forgotten about him, not completely, but it's clear as she works she's absorbed in her work.

Only when the pan is propped over the fire and she's added some of the water she brought along with the diced meat and vegetables does she huff hands on her hips. Something was missing, but she wasn't entirely sure what. Turning to link she cocks her head to the side, a mess of hair pouring back over her shoulder. "Do you have Saltbushes?" A pause, as she realizes how silly the name sounds, especially if they don't have anything of the sort. Her hands come out, gesturing as she speaks. "They're smaller, silvery and light green, if you lick your finger and touch one it tastes like salt..."

They had salt, right?

Link laughed out loud, clear and honest, not mocking in the slightest. He didn't doubt that with all his experience, all his skills, her Mushroom Kingdom still held things he'd need her help with. "When I come to visit, then, I hope I can count on your guidance." With the meat handed off he wiped his palms and hovered, watching curiously. He crouched beside her as the cooking began. It was immediately obvious she had more than a little practice with a knife: he did as well, of course, but it was of a different nature. If Link had been the one cutting carrots, they would have ended up in varied-size chunks. A far cry from her careful, clever dicing.

That wasn't the only diversion she took. Soon the meat was chopped up into smaller cubes. "What are you making?" Link asked, still hovering. He cocked his head and leaned a little close as she continued to work. He was unaware of the fact that he might be somewhat overbearing. When she filled the pan with water he thought he had a clue, but he still wasn't sure. Even something like this was out of his wheelhouse: he rarely did anything beside simply cooking the meat and making the rest into jerky.

"Saltbushes," he repeated. "Not around here, unfortunately. A hundred miles north, maybe. But I do have salt if you need to... preserve something," he said uncertainly, trying to figure out what on earth she'd need to do that for. He used salt a great deal himself--but that was because it made meat last longer. Why she'd need to use some in a meal he couldn't quite tell.

"Stew, it's an easy thing to make with unfamiliar meat." She admitted gently, she hadn't made much with rabbit before, but she was sure it would work as well as anything else. However, if him questioning her and hovering bothered her, she made no indication as such. Instead, she seemed content to have him nearby, so sure in her work there was no real hesitation at his presence-- at least not as far as cooking was concerned. If she could feel warmth heating her blood just a bit she was sure it was because most wouldn't dare be this close to her most of the time. It was improper, but in truth, she was learning she didn't mind. Having the close company made her feel a little more human, and right now that was welcome.

"Very clever." She giggled, briefly, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she watched him with an almost impish smile. Though it very quickly turned to surprise as she took in his expression. Her face burning up as embarrassment followed. He was serious! Oh my! Peach bubbled up with another set of giggles, however, these were spawned from embarrassment rather than at what she had perceived as a joke.

"I'm going to use it to cook a bit." She nodded gently, folding her hands behind her back, her eyes squinting a bit as she tried to keep her embarrassment at such a social faux pas to a minimum. "Salt is the easiest spice to get, so I figured we might have some nearby."

"Ohh," he said. "I've had stew before. It wasn't bad," he said in a way that clearly showed his cooking inexperience. He continued to watch just as closely as he could, his fascination with the process distracting from his self-consciousness about their proximity. Otherwise, it was likely he would have been blushing at least and retreating at most. But he was fixated now on what she was doing and how she was doing it: any display of skills he didn't possess was fascinating to him. He always wanted to pick up skills where he could: sometimes it meant he could do small things, like repairing his boots when no cobblers were within a day's ride. And sometimes it was just to satisfy his own curiosity.

"Thank you," he grinned, and beamed a little as she complimented him. He was pleased that his knowledge had come in handy. "See? I'm not so bad at this cooking thing." But then she looked at him and gave him a teasing smile, and his own grin fell. "Oh." He didn't understand just yet, but he at least got that he was the butt of the joke. He looked down at the ground sheepishly and scratched his head.

"Is that right?" he asked, recovering slightly. "I'd heard some people use spices, I think. I never got the hang of it." He turned and rummaged through one of his bags. Out came a small pouch tied at the top with cord: he untied it and handed it over, its mouth slightly open to reveal grain-sized white crystals inside.
"If there's anything else you need I probably won't have it," he admitted, "but maybe I could buy some at the next town we come to. Or scavenge it."

Oh no. The guilt compounded when he went from prideful to crestfallen at her giggles. She felt herself shift before she thought about it, flashing him a kinder, if not quieted smile. "I'm sorry." It was soft, and gentle, she felt bad about teasing him-- even if it had been mostly unintentional. "Preserving food is very fascinating." She added after a moment, allowing herself to try and recover, and hopefully allow him to forgive her or at least recover some with her. "Maybe you can show me how you do it sometime?" The question is gentle, light, but not dishonest. She's hoping he'll take to the encouragement, rather than letting himself be brought down by her misunderstanding. "I didn't know you could use salt for that.

"So I suppose we both learned something today." She took the salt in her hands, rolling it around a little. The crystals were a bit bigger than she was used to, but not in any way that she minded. Just meant she had to be careful about putting too much in. A few little shakes across the top as she watched most of them bubble as the water was heating and a few sinking down. Reaching over she took up the celery stick she had not chopped with the rest, quietly using it to stir as they spoke.

"I'll look in the next town, there's no rush." A pause as she turned her gaze back to him, still smiling. "I'm sure we can make due till then."

He laughed lightly at her obvious concern for his feelings. "I appreciate it," he told her, still crouched ever so close. "I can handle being giggled at now and then, especially when I say something silly. I know I'm not the most well-rounded person out there, so I expect to put my foot in my mouth now and then." He grinned. "But if you would like to learn, I'd be happy to show you anytime. Maybe the next night I catch something."

He settled down and resumed watching her, his warm eyes carefully flicking between her face and the cooking she did. He wanted to learn it all.

"Sounds good to me," he agreed. "You can teach me what spices are good for what, and maybe we can make some more interesting meals. I'm afraid what I'm used to making isn't exactly glamorous." As soon as he said it he had a sudden realization: he was dragging a princess through the woods, on a single horse, and making her cook. Somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten her royalty somehow and begun to see her as just an ordinary woman.
"Sorry," he murmured glumly. "I know all this is a lot less than you're used to."

"I don't mind," she chimed in, almost affectionately as she settled in with him. Enjoying the quiet moment for the two of them to just talk and enjoy each others company as the food bubbled up, beginning to cook itself into a proper meal. Or as close to it as they were going to get right now. "It makes me feel better, to be able to help you. You're doing a lot for me and I am not oblivious to it-- if anything it makes me happy to be able to cook for you, to reward some of your kindness with my own."

A little blooming smile, showing just how earnest she was. She really was content to be helping him out, to be able to feel like she was doing something for him in return. Not just a burden to be dragged along and complain, she wasn't in it to make his life difficult. Not any more difficult than she had for just existing in his world and needing his help.

"Please, just let me help when I can."

The hero kept his eyes down, searching the ground like there was something fascinating to watch between the fire-lit pine needles and the pebbles on the ground. His stomach crumpled up as he contemplated just how presumptuous he'd been, bringing such a pretty member of royalty through the mud and the muck.

But then she settled closer to him, close enough that he could just smell something sweet and flowery, close enough that his cheeks brightened and his pulse quickened. He couldn't help it: the feeling was newly developed but nearly incapacitating. And the smile, when he looked up and saw it, only made it a lot worse.

"If you don't mind," he said almost begrudgingly. He didn't quite believe it, but he would do his best to--and by the time she finished her speech, he absolutely did. The smile he answered hers with was honest and relieved. "Although you don't need to do anything for me, or worry about any of that. I'm just happy to help."
All the same, his estimation of her rose. She was no shrinking violet--and attentive to her helpers, too.

"In that case, cooking is a great way to help," he acknowledged. "I'll give you any small tasks I can think of, and teach you to do some more--but mostly your company is enough." He smiled at her and scuffed the dirt slightly. "It's more than I usually get."

Link sniffed briefly, the cool breeze wafting gently over the cooking stew. "Wow," he said with wide-open eyes. "That smells amazing. Is it ready yet?"

"You've spent a lot of time alone, haven't you?" She asked gently, already beginning to sort the food out, scooping a few globs into one of their small bowls and settling in to talk with him a bit more. She realized, after a few seconds of doing just that, that she had asked an invasive question, something that might not settle well-- and she feels a pang of guilt. "It must be a hard life being an adventurer. Not many could keep up with you, I'm sure." She hoped, at the least, it softened the blow a little bit. She didn't blame him for being alone, and it was clear in her delicate tone that she meant no harm, it was worried and affectionate more than anything, yet she still feels bad for mentioning it at all. She should have thought her words out better, but being around him just seemed to make her feel so much more comfortable than she realized.

She would need to keep an eye on her tongue, so to speak.

"I'm glad to keep you company, and cook, and whatever else you'll teach me." She followed up gently, trying to press that she was glad to keep him company and glad to help. She supposed part of what left her speaking so freely was the fact she didn't understand why he was alone. He seemed kind, if a little wild in some ways, venturing long and hard-- but still a man fit to have a companion. She didn't understand why he didn't have one. He was kind enough, brave and strong and--

She cut that thought down where it stood, flushing and spooning a bit of food into her mouth to keep her tongue from doing any more damage.

A man more aware of what was normal, what was ordinary, might have been slow to answer a head-on question like that. But Link only said "yes," plainly and clearly, without embarrassment or hesitation. Yes, he had spent a great deal of time alone--more time by far than he'd ever spent with other people, and when it came to time spent with any one individual... well, that didn't even come close. "Some could," he said after a moment of consideration, "but most don't choose to. Not that I blame them: the life isn't for everyone."

He accepted the filled bowl she gave him, grinning as he breathed in the smell of the stew. He was no great hand at deciphering the ingredients she'd used, even though he knew most of what had gone into the meal: all he knew was that it smelled delicious. He puffed cool air over the steaming bowl waiting for it to be ready to eat. And even so he took a bite before it was quite cool enough, leading to Link with his mouth open, breathing some of the heat out.
And it still tasted delicious.

"Sounds like a deal to me," he said with a mouthful, then swallowed. This time his words were a little less garbled. "I would be happy to teach you, not just because you're accompanying me but because..." he gestured with his spoon, trying to capture what he felt. Because it was what he did? Because of who she was? Because traveling with her felt so pleasant?
"Because," he finished lamely, and then it was Link's turn to conceal his awkwardness with another mouthful of food.

"I think I could learn a great deal with you, so I appreciate it." Some of it she might never use, or even most of it, perhaps-- but she always wanted to feel more self-sufficient. Always wanted to better defend herself; as much as a Princess can defend herself against a fire breathing dragon. She tried, of course, many times but it came down to numbers and Bowser had many. Especially with the pacifist nature of the toadstools.

Swallowing down another spoonful she leaned back a little, relaxing against the cool of the night. "How long have you been doing this?" She finally asked, wanting to know more about her traveling companion. It was a fine line between polite and nosy, but in earnest, they had little more to do than chit chat between them.

"Being an adventurer, I mean." She clarified, just to fill the air with a few words before her gaze timidly swept back to her soup.

"Ditto," he said, and smiled. "I've been doing this for... well..." he considered the question. Most people could simply say "ten years," or "twenty," but all he could say was... "forever, I guess." Link scratched his head a little sheepishly, knowing that wasn't quite as complete an answer as she deserved. "I know I've been doing it for as long as I can remember, but sometimes I get flashes of... other lives, I guess you could say."
It was a private thing he wasn't quite ready to admit, especially how it made him feel. So he stuffed himself with another few quick spoonfuls of stew, leaving the bowl almost dry.

"Well," he announced as he stood up, "don't feel like you have to quit eating anytime soon, or to rush. But I'm going to start setting up for bed." He smiled at her: "first rule of adventuring is, get a good night's rest." It was a piece of advice he'd always stuck by, although it wasn't always possible to observe it.

Link began to set out the sticks and pieces of cloth that would eventually comprise a tent. A single tent.
But he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

"Is there anywhere you'd like to go if we happen to pass by it? Snowy mountains, swamps, the desert? Not that the last one is negotiable... we're kind of forced to go there based on our trajectory."

"Other lives..." The words were barely a whisper off of her lips, thoughtful but not judgemental. She wondered what that meant, if he really meant it, or if he was teasing her. Though the latter of those options seemed less likely as he was occasionally playful but generally a rather serious man in her experience. She wondered if it was just memories he'd lost or actually...

She stopped herself from thinking about it too much, it was late and wouldn't do any good.

She watched him work, sipping and nibbling, waiting till she was finished to tend to the empty bowls. There wasn't much she could do besides wiping them down in hopes they wouldn't get too musty or dirty, carefully packing them away with hopes of finding somewhere to wash them on their adventure.

"I've always loved the snow, perhaps that." It always brought a sense of peace with it, though Peach admitted, if only to herself, seeing anything would be quite the adventure for her. This world was so different sometimes it was hard to imagine she was really there. IT wasn't as bright, but it seemed to be filled with so many different things. "Or anything you'd like to show me, of course."

He smiled a tired smile as she toyed with that idea. He knew it wasn't exactly the easiest concept to accept, that someone could be reborn again and again (if indeed that was how it worked; he himself had no real clue) and he didn't blame her for finding it hard to believe. Perhaps she'd come to accept it or perhaps she wouldn't. But he was tired, and how could he convince her one way or the other, really?

"The snow," he echoed as the tent began to fold upwards, each addition of a stick or a tug making it assume more and more of a usable shape. After a few finishing touches the cloth, oil-slicked on top and the sides, was erected. Inside he placed their two bedrolls and stood back to make certain everything was as it should be. After a cursory examination, he nodded. "I've always loved the snow. There are some mountains we might just pass by after we come through the desert: there are some friendly people up there you might like to meet. And they love to sled." He smiled at her, wondering if that was something that had ever fit into her princess's routine.

"I have many places I'd like to show you, time willing. We'll see where our adventure takes us." He cleared his throat and for just a minute his confidence seemed to flag. "I've got our bedrolls ready." Link hesitated for a moment, looking for the right words to say but unable to quite get them in order. "I hope you don't mind how... cramped it is."

And indeed the bedrolls were, by necessity, barely a foot away. He didn't exactly have much need to carry a two-person tent with him.

The idea of snow was welcoming, perhaps just because even in the night it seemed the heat wasn't keen on relenting. She was glad to be out of her beloved dress, if only because the weight of it might have eaten away at her in this sort of weather. She plucked up her bag, approaching him and the finished tent, examining both at once. Peeking in the entrance she paused briefly, before nodding firmly. "Thank you, Link."

It was gentle, the way she spoke, as she lowered herself down to crawl forward. Peering at both of the rolls for a moment before picking one to the left. She was nervous about camping like this-- she's never really done something so... outside, before, but she was willing to try and learn. Allowing herself to settle down on the roll, it took her a bit of wiggling to fit herself properly in the middle; her clothes were not quite as accommodating as her silken sleeping frowns but she was glad for the comforts they had.

"I'm fortunate to have found someone quite so knowledgable." She offered kindly as her cheek pressed into the bedding, her body neatly fitting on the mat as she bundled her limbs in to maintain the warmth she had gained from the fire.

He cringed a little as she stepped over to the finished tent, crouching slightly to peer inside. He was so sure she was going to scoff at the accommodations, so far from a princess's commodes, barely even a pad between her and the ground. Barely even a handspan between her and him.
But perhaps he'd been too ready to hear criticism. Or perhaps he just didn't give her the credit she deserved. "You're welcome," he answered honestly, with surprise, and he chastised himself for thinking so poorly of her. Of course Princess Peach wouldn't scoff at him for providing the best he could. Link felt a little ashamed.

He turned away as she crawled into the tent, deciding not to watch her backside wiggling as she found her place inside. When he looked back she was comfortably fit on the bedroll and looking cutely up at him with that signature small smile. It warmed his heart for more reason than one.

"And I'm fortunate to have found such a good companion," he answered her in kind. He stomped on the fire a few times, extinguishing the last embers, then followed her inside after stripping down to his white undershirt and his breeches. He crawled in beside the princess and sank with a sigh into his own bed. The tent was already full of some slight flowery scent, something he was already beginning to associate with her. He slid underneath his covers and smiled at her as she clung to herself for warmth: "like this," he instructed the princess, and tugged out her covers so she could slip inside. "Better?"

"Ah." She was glad for the darkness that allowed her to slip down into the covers and hide her embarrassment at the whole of it. Settling in she found it was good at keeping her own warmth inside, at the very least. It wasn't the beds in the castle, no, but nothing really was. She was rescued from a castle she had been captive in for however long, in a strange land, by a kind young man. It was really all she could ask for, all things considered. Having a safe place to sleep and the quiet of the world around her was more than she had gotten there. The threat of violence ever hovering in the air, threatening to choke the air out of her.

Her eyes fell half-lidded, watching him for a few long moments as she seemed to be thinking over the days' events. It was pleasant all things considered, he was good company and the heat could have been worse. She could be in that castle still, waiting to find out what her fate was.

"Much better." She hummed out as she tucked an arm under her head, better to balance her body out. The traveling fabric rubbing against her cheek. She was, of course, far too abashed to strip down for the time being; but the clothes were comfortable enough to sleep in them. "Thank you, again." She laughed at herself a little, she felt like thanking him every two seconds; she was sure it'd eventually become bothersome.

Forcing herself to close her eyes, she let out a soft breath and tried her best to get settled in. "Goodnight, Link."

She settled under the covers, and if a blush touched her cheeks the darkness hid it away. For a moment neither of them spoke, laying underneath the cloth tent as the wind gently blew through the trees and the night filled with the quiet background noise that accompanied the wilds: crickets chirping, owls hooting, even the distant high-pitched howl of coyotes. His sword and shield rested near the entrance of the tent, ready should he need them--but the presence of Epona was usually enough to frighten off all but the most desperate of wild animals. He didn't expect any trouble. "Glad you're comfortable," he murmured. "And as always, you are very welcome. Although I wish I had a softer bed for you."

His mind was full of the days ahead, planning and mapping out their path. He was so wrapped up in thinking that her goodnight caught him by surprise. "Goodnight," Link answered. "I hope you sleep well."

They didn't speak anything further, and soon the soft noise of Peach's rhythmic breathing filled the tent. It was a new sound to Link, but a comforting one. At first it was difficult for him to close his eyes and just relax--especially being so close to her, breathing her in--but when he finally did succumb he slept longer, and deeper, and more restfully than he could remember having done for a long time.

Snap and Crackle

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