She was collapsed in the woods- the forest silent and at edge. It wasn’t often that strange things happened in the forest, but it wasn’t unheard of. People got lost for years and came back thinking it was just the next day- some never came back at all. Someone new appearing in the grove was unexpected- but not a new experience.
Kneeling down Z'thar checked her breathing first, and that she was still alive. Everything about her screamed Sheikah, but she was no face he knew.
“Ya'o u'y era? Ema’ r'oy si ta'w?” He asked gently as he reached out to make sure she was alright- or even awake.
And she moved, to his surprise! She moved, giving her name, but in that same second her face was draining and she was scrambling back.
“T'aw, t'aw! Fles r'oy truh l'iw u'y n'od wols, on!” He said cautiously, still squatted downs, both hands up in a ‘surrender’ posture. He didn’t want her to scare any further back, but he had no idea what it was she was actually afraid of.
His face was one she knew, but the tattoos under his eyes were still bright with fresh ink only a few years old, hair well keps and swept short, to the side. Gone were the old wrinkles and sagged face; gone were the elders robes and sashes. All he had was a waist tie over some loose fitting pants, and the sleeveless body armor.
There was no cover for his young face, and not a drop of that hidden sadness to his eyes yet. By his figure and the smoothness to his voice he was maybe twenty three, and this was far from the Z'thar Impa had grown to know.
“Impa, re'me'er u'y gni’t t'al e’t si ta'w”
There was the language, a parallel of her own, yet so much different all the
same. Few even in her own village when Z’thar was about understood the
language that was spoken by the distant group of their race. She was one
of the few, and even so, sometimes she had problems understanding the
man that taught her so much. But even so, she would try, because he had
clearly not come to her village yet, had not learned to speak Hylian, and
more than likely could not understand more than a little bit of the dialect
that was spoken in Kakariko. And if she was ever going to understand what
had happened, she would need his cooperation, no matter how confused
he may be at the moment.
“El’met e’t ‘ind’et, ‘ga’liv ‘m ni gn’eb.” The words were sloppy, something that
she hadn’t practiced once he had died, or much before he had either. Other
elders thought it prudent that she learn how to speak the language, in the off
chance that the two tribes would ever come together, but did not wish for her
to speak it recreationally. Once it became apparent that she would be the
future body guard for Princess Zelda, there was no point in worrying about
the unity of tribes, but the future of those their ancestors had pledged the life
of their descendants to.
“E’an ru’y si ta'w?” A formality, so that she didn’t seem prophetic. Few seemed
to have that ability, and it was never something that brought about good things,
usually managing to predict their own end before anything useful.
