On a pad of folded blankets in front of his fireplace, the winged girl lay motionless on her stomach. Though her wounds had been entirely healed, she had yet to regain consciousness. Half of his attention watched how the fire played across the girl's feathers. More than once he had given in to the temptation to touch those winter white feathers. They were just as Ilia said and softer than the finest silk. He also discovered a small, blue stone peeking out between her bangs of white hair. It had changed colors since then, however, and now looked more like dull silver. He could only guess that it was important.
She was here because Bo and Ilia had figured Link's place would be the best to store her for now until they could think of somewhere else, because at the moment their own home was filled to bursting with (horny) teenage boys and the other villagers didn't have much room to speak of either. So, not thinking much of it, Link had popped out his lift (which he usually used to bring up large things into his tree house), and pulled up the girl.
Now, here he sat, hours later and unable to sleep, staring at her. Link knew it had to be late—ungodly late by the itch in his eyes—but his mind wouldn't stay still. It kept buzzing with thoughts of Midna and images of the shadow beasts. It annoyed him. He should be wondering more about why a supposedly omniscient light spirit didn't know who let alone what this girl was, and yet all he could think about was that damn, impish smile and long Twilian legs. More than once he had growled to himself and slammed his forehead to the floor. He could already feel a bruise developing there.
A small groan broke him out of his thoughts. The feathers he had been staring at twitched and a hand rubbed at her eyes.
"Ah, look who's waking up."
She pulled back her hand and blinked up at him blearily. Her eyes were even bluer than he remembered. He smiled down at her warmly.
"'ello. How do you feel?"
She eased herself onto her knees and rustled her wings into a tight fold against her back, but didn't answer. She examined herself through the loose fitting nightgown. When she turned her attention back up at him he got a good look at her face framed by waves of softly curling white hair. It was smooth and white as he had thought, oval, with a petite mouth and nose. The blue eyes examined him meticulously.
"Yes, that's me. The name's Link." A thought occurred to him. "Do you, uh, understand me?"
She nodded. He couldn't help but feel relieved. That made everything so much easier.
"Great! So, you hungry? You can tell me about yourself as you eat. I kept some leftover stew for you. I'm afraid it's the only thing I'm particularly good at making."
She blinked at him. Then nodded again, still without a word. Hoping he wasn't making her feel too awkward, he stood up and walked around her to the fire to grab a bowl and filled it. He could feel her gaze on his back. When he handed it to her she took it with cautious hands and sniffed it before taking an equally cautious bite. She seemed surprised at the taste.
"Good?"
She nodded again and took a bite, this time much more eagerly.
"So...you have a name?"
Pausing to chew on a bite, she shrugged.
"So, no name?"
Again, she shrugged. He was beginning to wonder if she really did understand him.
"Oh come on, you have to at least have a name! Fine then, what brought you here? Was it those shadow beasts that attacked you?"
This time, she seemed to hesitate as she lowered the bowl ever so slightly. Meeting his gaze, she gave him an uncertain expression. Then, tremulously, she opened her mouth to speak. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but when nothing came out he felt a distinct droop in his chest. He wasn't the only one, though. Rather than appear distressed, however, she just gave him a peculiar look before turning back to her stew. He thought he saw her cheeks color. He felt his stomach drop.
"You...you can't speak...can you?"
Slowly, she shook her head. Then shrugged and put the bowl of stew down. It was already empty. Talk about hungry.
Trying to dissipate the suddenly awkward sort of gloom, he reached for her bowl. "Would you like some more?"
But she didn't move. She didn't even give any indication that she had heard him.
"Can you write, at least? I have some paper up in the loft you can write with."
He took the hopeful look she gave him as a yes and jumped to his feet to get it. Once the pencil and paper were in her hands she handled them uncertainly. Then, as though etching a piece of art, she carefully scratched down some messy letters and handed the paper to him with her face bowed.
'I know not what to say.' it read.
"How about just your name, then?"
She took back the paper from him.
'I know not my name. And to your other question, the shadow beasts did chase me here,' the pencil jerked as a she seemed to have a thought, her mouth growing tight. 'How do you know of the shadow beasts? I dealt with them.'
Link raised his eyebrow. "Dealt with them? Well, you must not know much about them, then. You can't leave a single one standing. You have to kill them all at once or else the last one resurrects the others and go chasing after other nummy folk, such as yours truly."
For the first time, her face twisted into annoyance. She practically tore the paper from his grasp to scribble, 'Of course I know that. I was sure I got the last two at the same time.'
"How? I'm sorry, but I don't see any sword or weapon on you. Whatever you're using isn't very affective."
She pouted at him, but when he gave back the paper she just held the pencil over the page. After a few seconds she dropped the pencil to the side and sighed. From behind her the white wings rose ever so slightly to enfold her shoulders like a cape. He watched this with a sense of wonder.
"I don't mean to be rude, but, what exactly are you?"
The girl followed his gaze to her wings and tucked them back behind her self-consciously. With quivering hands she took up the pencil and wrote: 'Aren't I human?'
The question was so odd he didn't know how to respond. At his silence she grew ill at ease. Her feathers fluffed about her and her eyes sparkled with oncoming tears. He panicked.
"Don't cry! It's okay! You look human-ish enough. It's just...I don't know any humans with wings. Not that they aren't lovely or anything. Oh man, I'm just digging a hole for myself, aren't I?"
A few tears trickled down her cheeks. He felt his stomach twist.
"You...you don't know what you are either, do you?"
Hands clenching her skirts, she shook her head.
"Do you know anything about yourself?"
Her eyes flashed and she automatically reached for the pencil again. He waited as she considered the paper before her. Then, after wiping at her face, she moved to put the pencil back down on the floor. She wouldn't meet his eye.
"Do you know anything?"
She nodded hesitantly.
"Then why don't you tell me? I may not look like it, but I could help you."
She quickly jotted down something on the paper and handed it to him. He read it eagerly, but was disappointed on how little it gave.
'I know you could.'
Just that line told him he wouldn't get anymore out of her that night. He scratched the back of his head and gave his own tired sigh. This whole situation had just gone from confusing to downright rude. Whatever goddess had chosen to throw this at him obviously overestimated his ability to solve puzzles. With that in mind, he couldn't help but ask one last question.
"Um, this might seem prying, but does whatever you're not telling me have to do with the goddesses? Or maybe why the moon spirit's missing?"
Silence. He lowered the arm scratching his head to raise his view and saw her staring at him intently with an expression he couldn't read. Her lips quivered ever so slightly, as though dying to breathe out words to him. He held his breath. Her wings even lifted ever so slightly.
Then, all too soon, her eyes were back to the floor and her lips were pressed into a tight line. It made him want to bash his head again. At least Midna had been a talker. Wait, where did that thought come from? Him relating Midna to this winged girl because they kind of were calls to adventures? This wasn't an adventure. The girl would probably haunt his village for the rest of her life or until she remembered something. She could raise pumpkins and flutter around and...yeah, he should go to bed. He was losing it.
Rubbing his eyes and feeling every sleepy protest from them, he said, "Well then, how about we give you a name? I'm not too fond of calling you 'hey you', if you know what I mean."
The corner of her mouth twitched. Her lips were pink like almost ripe cherries. He shook the thought from his mind. All he needed now to screw his life up more was to get poetic about a bird girl.
"How about...Sarah? That's a pretty normal name."
She frowned.
"Danea?"
A pink tongue poked out.
"Marion?"
She full on scowled at this one. He pushed the paper to her.
"Very well. What do you suggest?"
For a whole minute she stared at the paper, thinking hard. In the end, however, she conceded to him for her naming by pushing the paper back. For the next fifteen minutes or so he walked names by her and watched the various creative ways she came up with to say no. Some of her expressions made him smile while others made him laugh as he hadn't for a long time. He could like this girl. As they talked her wings relaxed out of their fold till they hung out the sides of her like frog legs.
On his last limb for names, he looked up where his sole window stood high up in a whimsical wish for his bed. The dark sky reminded him of how he had thought her the moon spirit. An idea came to him with that.
"How about," he looked back to her, "Luna."
At long last a wide smile dimpled her cheeks. She leaned forward on her knees. Before he knew what was happening she kissed him full on the lips and rocked back onto her blanket bed. His mouth tingled. He blinked hard. Did that really just happen? That had been...unexpected? Looking at her blushing, but happy face, he decided to not think about it. It was ostentatiously late after all.
"Luna it is."