Can You Get Through All The Pain Inside You? - no. 11
hidden injury | forced reveal | laceration
CW: open wound, blood loss
Hero winced as they turned the handle, even that small action triggering a spark of pain in their back. The door creaked open and they tried not to stumble as they slowly walked in, determined to at least make it to their bed before collapsing. They didn’t bother turning the lights on when they gingerly closed the door behind them and started toward their room. Their apartment was set up so the living room and kitchen were right behind the door, so Hero used the back of the couch as a makeshift crutch to hold some of their weight.
“Why are you so late?” A voice behind them demanded. Hero whipped around and immediately regretted the sudden movement when a twinge of hot agony momentarily immobilized them. They could feel a few trickles of blood run down their skin.
The light flicked on, bathing the space in a warm yellow glow. Villain leaned against the wall, arms crossed, surveying Hero with annoyance.
Hero tried to make their expression neutral and hide the grimace of pain they’d been wearing. “I’m really not in the mood for this tonight.”
“Usually, you get home by eight or nine at the latest,” Villain said as if they hadn’t heard Hero at all. “It’s past one. I almost called the agency hotline to report you missing.”
“I had extra training to do,” Hero lied. “Leader wanted to test out a new program. There was a lot of running, and I’m tired now, so if you wouldn’t mind…”
Instead of leaving, Villain approached them, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You’ve had a lot of injuries recently. You shouldn’t be working so hard.”
“Medic cleared me for regular duty. Quit worrying so much.”
“I’m your nemesis,” they said matter-of-factly. “That’s my job.”
The side of Hero’s mouth turned up even as their back throbbed with a sting that kept getting sharper. “I think it’s supposed to be the opposite, but I appreciate it.”
“How am I supposed to fight you if you’re always beat up from training? Hero, I really think you should-”
“I’m fine, Vil,” Hero said firmly. “Really. I just need to sleep.”
Villain gave a noncommittal hum, unconvinced. “Just try to take care of yourself, okay?”
“Sure.” The word came out slightly breathless as Hero worked hard to keep upright. It felt as though their legs could give out on them at any second.
Their nemesis frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Hero managed. “Get out of my apartment.”
“Turn around,” Villain commanded quietly. Hero wasn’t sure if they were imagining it or not, but there seemed to be a hint of fear in their eyes.
“Go away.”
“Now.”
“Fuck y-”
Using their signature speed, Villain unzipped their dark training jacket, pulling it off of them and uncovering a gray t-shirt emblazoned with the agency logo.
At least, it used to be gray. Hero put out a hand to stop them, but Villain had already moved around them and stopped short. They stared at Hero’s back, blinking rapidly as if to reset their vision. Hero looked away and took in a shuddering breath. Carefully, Villain took the edge of Hero’s shirt and lifted it up to reveal the full extent of their injury.
An enormous X had been carved into Hero’s back, the deep lines running from their shoulderblades to their waist. The wound was open in some places and crusted with semi-dried blood in others. Stripes of brown and crimson covered their skin so liberally that its true color was difficult to see. The lines were almost perfectly straight, a result of hours of careful cutting with a cruelly serrated knife. Behind them, Villain was as still as a stone. They let the horrifically stained shirt fall into place again and stayed silent for several torturous moments.
When they finally spoke, their voice was dangerously soft. “Who did this?”
Hero bit their lip. “I can’t-I can’t tell you that.”
“Why?”
Their response came out as tiny as Hero felt. “You’d kill them.”
“Yes, I would kill them,” Villain snapped, fury lacing their sentences with venom. “They would deserve it. And I would make it slow.”
Hero flinched. “Please-” A spasm hit their back, and Hero saw white. They fell to their knees, crying out in pure agony.
Villain’s blurry form knelt before them, their tone urgent but their words unintelligible. Hero tried to shove the world back into focus, pushing down the pain like they had done so many times before.
“D-don’t…”
Villain’s voice cut in and out as Hero’s head spun. They reached out but stopped before their fingers could touch Hero’s abused body. “—too much blood—I’ll call—hospital, but—be okay—”
Darkness tinged with scarlet encroached at the edges of their vision, and Hero could feel their consciousness rapidly slipping away. If they died, did it matter what Villain did after? Maybe not. But if they didn’t die, they’d have to reckon with the consequences. Was it better to let themself go, to give in to the pain and let the person who’d done this to them win?
“—my Hero—just stay—for me, please—who?—”
“Superhero,” they whispered, and fell into the grasp of their avenging nemesis.
Days 11&12 | rating: t | wc: 1044 | prompts: No.11: Hidden Injury No.12: withholding medical treatment | cw: medical neglect | ao3
Buck hides an injury he received on a call after Eddie refuses to check for any injuries. It lands him in hospital.
It was always going to be a difficult call. A 5.4 earthquake, an apartment building that had shifted during the main shock, their job was to get the place evacuated as quickly and as safely as possible. Preferably before any aftershocks could cause a collapse.
Not that they would be so lucky. Hen and Ravi had taken a patient out leaving Buck and Eddie to keep searching. Then an aftershock hit. Buck braced for it, as they had been taught in the academy, but that didn't help when parts of the ceiling came crashing down. He ended up on the floor, debris on top of and beneath him. He had a sharp pain in his side, and knew it couldn't be good.
"Diaz, Buckley, 118. Partial ceiling collapse but we're good." He heard Eddie say, and realized he must have missed a call to check in following the aftershock. He wished he could reach his radio so he could add that he had been hit by debris, noticing that Eddie had left that out.
"You didn't say that I'd been hit?" Buck asked, struggling against the pieces of ceiling. "You going to help get this off of me?"
Eddie scoffed. "Why would I? It's not like you're hurt, no need to make everyone worry." Eddie started to move some of the bigger pieces.
"That's the thing, I think I might be." Buck winced as Eddie moved the piece that had been putting the most pressure on his side. "My side is pretty painful, I don't know if theres any damage."
"You want me to look at what is only going to be a little bruised when there are people in this building that are still unaccounted for?" Eddie sneered. "You'd really be that selfish that you think you hurting a little is more important than someone that might be dying?"
Buck scowled as he struggled to his feet, the pain in his side flaring. He tried reaching for his radio, only to realize it had been damaged in the collapse. He swayed in place for a moment, leaning against the wall to keep himself upright.
"Come on," Eddie said, starting to move further down before Buck really had chance to stabilize himself. "Do you want to actually do your job, or are you going to keep making this about you?"
"Lets go." Buck started moving forward, keeping his hand on his side as he walked. It didn't feel like he was bleeding- but if he was it would have been hidden by his turnout jacket. But it was painful, and nausea was starting to come and go.
They checked and cleared a couple more apartments before Hen and Ravi had caught back up to them. Buck had stopped holding his side but was wincing every few steps. The pain seemed to be localized to the left side of his chest and felt worse every time he breathed in. He didn't want to speak up about it, not wanting to make it all about himself.
"You good, Buck?" Ravi asked as Buck stumbled into a door frame, an overwhelming wave of dizziness coursing through him.
Buck grit his teeth and swallowed hard against the nausea rising in his throat. "Fine," He mumbled, doing his best to keep going.
Both Hen and Ravi asked him again as they cleared the next apartment, he did his best to brush off their concern, but has rapidly feeling worse.
A few steps out of the apartment, he doubled over and vomited on the carpet.
"That's it, Buck. You're not okay." Hen helped Buck straighten up and started looking him over, checking for any obvious signs of injuries. "Is there any chance you've been hurt?"
"Aftershock. Hit with ceiling. Hurt side." Buck's speech became a little slurred, and he was finding it harder to concentrate.
He was vaguely aware of Ravi calling it in and Hen questioning Eddie as to why it hadn't been reported that Buck was hurt when he faded out of consciousness.
-
Waking up in the hospital was a far too familiar thing. There was a warm weight on his hand, and he looked to the side to see an extremely worried Tommy.
"Happened?" Buck frowned, his mind not fully clear.
"Your spleen ruptured when the ceiling collapsed onto you." Tommy squeezed his hand. "You collapsed after puking. Why didn't you tell anyone you were hurt?"
"I tried." Buck replied, the memories coming back to him. "Eddie refused to check me over. He said I couldn't be hurt and it would be selfish to expect him to waste time on me when there could be people dying."
"You were people dying. Hen had to do CPR because you coded in the ambulance." Tommy said, his face full of emotion.
"Tommy's right. You gave us all quite a scare." Hen added from the doorway. She came into the room, and handed a coffee to Tommy. "It's good to see your eyes open again."
"Hi, Hen." Buck smiled.
"But back to what you said? Diaz has already had multiple people rip him a new one over not reporting that you'd been hit. But refusing care? That's a new low." Tommy looked pissed off for a moment, before schooling his features.
"And I'm going to have to report it to the chief. That's going to be a lot of paperwork. And another new partner." Hen joked.
"Hen, it's not that-" Buck started, but was cut off.
"Eddie dug his own grave there, Evan. You don't need to defend him." Tommy cupped the side of his face. "He nearly cost me the man I love because of his negligence."
"I wouldn't want to keep working with him anyway. Why would I want to partner with a paramedic who willingly withheld medical treatment from a teammate? None of us can trust him to have our backs." Hen sounded angry. "He won't be coming back to the 118. I doubt he'll be allowed to keep his paramedic license or stay with the department."
"I don't want him to lose his job." Buck said, feeling guilty.
"His actions have consequences. Any punishment he receives over this is his fault, never yours." Tommy replied. "And I won't let him take it out on you."
Wild had two thoughts as he went plunging through the portal, the others’ frantic cries in his ears:
One, that hopefully Legend wouldn’t give him too smug of an ‘I told you so’ the next time he saw him, since Wild had entirely forgone his advice to stay away from Dark Link and was now plunging rapidly through the air. And two, well, at least I’m going to fall into the water down there.
Which he promptly did with an explosive splash.
It wasn’t so high up that he was badly hurt, but Wild was still thrown for a loop, and found himself crashing down a river with little sense of which way was up.
Water got in his mouth and he spluttered, trying to spit it out and also get his head above the surface so he could breathe. The current was fast here though, and Wild couldn’t do much except flail around like a drunk Zora.
Wait, could Zora get drunk?
He actually had no clue.
The current got suddenly faster, and Wild breathed in some water as he got smacked against the rocks, coughing and hacking as he struggled to get any air. He managed a wet gasp when his head briefly poked up, but then he was pulled under again.
Air wasn’t the only thing Wild had gotten when he went up though— he’d also gotten a sight of the river up ahead. And at the sight of the waterfall rapidly approaching, his struggles grew even more frantic.
I need to reach shore, he thought as he continued to cough and claw his way to the river’s edge in a panic. I need to reach shore now, I need air I need—
The angle of the water shifted, and Wild was shot out of the waterfall, the rapid change in direction making his head spin.
He found himself in open air, water still in his lungs, and he clumsily grabbed for his paraglider as the lake below rapidly approached. Wild managed to snap it open just in time, but he didn’t manage a good grip on the handle.
His arm slipped, and Wild slammed into the sand near the shore, a choked yell escaping him as pain blazed up his shoulder.
All he could do was cough up water for a minute and catch his breath, trying not to wrench his shoulder more. Something was broken in there; he wasn’t sure if it was his shoulder itself or his arm or collarbone, but it hurt. He could barely move without his whole arm lighting up in agony, and hoped blearily that none of the others had suffered the same fate as him.
Then he heard a splash behind him, and his stomach sank.
Had one of the others fallen in the portal already? Or was it something else? That hadn’t sounded big enough to be a splash from something falling from the waterfall, but then again, he could be wrong.
“There, look!”
The voice sounded familiar, but Wild couldn’t place it over the sound of the water behind him and the blood rushing in his ears. He tried to raise himself up, and pain tore across his senses, and for a minute all he could focus on was the fire ripping through his shoulder.
“—know who he is? He looks just like—”
“—in the water, don’t—”
Two voices floated around his head as the fire eased, and Wild took a deep breath, opening his eyes again. His hair had fallen in his face, and between that and his blurry vision he couldn’t see much, especially through the damp strands. Unless he moved again, but that seemed like a bad idea.
Wild groaned, blinking to try and get the hair away from his eyes, but he barely succeeded. His wet hair slipped to the side, but all he could make out were two blobs, silhouetted by the sun shining behind them.
Then he heard a soft gasp, and the sound of a weapon being drawn.
“How is this—”
“This has trap written all over it,” a different voice than the first interrupted, soft, but sharp. Cold steel nudged Wild’s chin, and he stiffened. “Don’t go near him.”
The other voice made a worried noise as Wild weakly coughed. “I don’t think he would have fallen down a waterfall on purpose and hurt himself like this if that were true.”
“It could still be a trick.”
“I know... but we won’t get any answers if he’s too dazed to speak.”
Wild heard a huff, then the sound of footsteps padding towards him in a familiar way. A hand settled over his shoulder, and Wild groaned again, a soothing noise coming from the voice.
“Hold on just a moment.”
Then a feeling like that of a gentle stream swept over his shoulder, quiet and small, but carrying the mighty power of water along with it. Wild automatically relaxed, sinking into the bubbly feeling. A blue light flickered in his vision, healing his shoulder in a familiar way, and Wild relaxed even further before he abruptly stiffened again.
Wait...
The smooth magic trickled into his middle, down to where his lungs were still burning from the water he’d inhaled. It soothed the ache, and though Wild still felt exhausted, he could tell his shoulder had been completely fixed as well. Even the various scrapes and bruises from the fight before the river had been healed.
Which meant...
The bubbly rush of magic faded away, Wild’s vision fully cleared, and his stomach dropped out.
Red scales. Yellow eyes. A petite figure covered in scales that were smooth and shiny in the sunlight, and healing magic that was fading from slender hands.
“M... Mipha?” Wild choked out.
The Zora woman (it couldn’t be Mipha, it couldn’t—) gave him a concerned look, but before Wild could do or say anything further, the steel was back at his neck.
Wild stilled, and followed the blade resting at his neck up to the person holding it. His already fast heartbeat tripled, and he choked for a second time.
The person holding a blade at his throat was himself.
His double’s hair was much shorter, pulled back into a neat ponytail, and instead of the champion’s tunic he was wearing the Zora armor Wild had received. His eyes were steely as he watched Wild, but the most shocking thing about him was the fact that the right side of his face was entirely smooth.
He didn’t have a single one of the scars that had killed Wild.
I’m unconscious. I’m dreaming. I hit my head on a rock and I’m hallucinating—
“Explain yourself. Who are you?” his double demanded, not appearing to notice how Wild’s world was caving in on itself. Wild stared, and coughed once, still feeling tired from his fight with the river, and just... unable to process this. What could he even say?
What was going on?
“I asked you a question, who are you? What are you doing in Zora’s Domain?” his double repeated, voice even sharper.
Mipha sucked in a worried breath as she stared at Wild, and touched the double’s arm. “Oh no, did... did a little guardian bring you?” she asked, and Wild stared at her, her words jumbling in his head as he stared.
Mipha.
Mipha.
Mipha was alive here. Wild was alive here, and missing his scars, and wearing the Zora armor that Mipha had crafted to give to him as a—
“Wh... who are you?” Wild whispered, throat suddenly dry as bone. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it was just a mistake, a strange coincidence, but he— he had to know. He had to know.
“We asked you first,” Link’s double replied suspiciously, and Mipha set a hand on his shoulder.
“Link, he was just injured and half-drowned, I believe he’s confused. If he were here to kill us, he already would have tried,” she said pointedly, studying Wild with an intent look. “I think he looks too much like you to be a coincidence.”
“It could still be a trick. A Yiga or something,” his double said suspiciously. Wild didn’t blame him. That did sound like something the Yiga would do.
“But why add the scars and long hair?” Mipha countered, and the double looked frustrated.
“To confuse us, I’m sure there’s a motive. He’s probably here for you, you know you’re—”
“If you say “at risk” again Link, I will set Sidon on you,” Mipha said with a little huff, and turned back towards Wild with a kind-if-cautious look. “My apologies. I am Princess Mipha of the Zora, and this is my husband, Link.”
The words were like a slap, even though Wild knew they were coming.
Husband. Mipha. Zora armor.
Husband.
Link.
Wild would have fallen over backwards if he’d been upright in any way, and he stared between Mipha and his double, wondering if he was about to be sick.
They all knew the portals were transporting them through time. Wild had been a part of Time and Wind’s discussion on fractured timelines, and they all knew that there were splits and sections where the history of Hyrule didn’t make sense.
But this...
Was this a timeline where Wild hadn’t failed?
Mipha’s face grew more worried the longer Wild stared at them without speaking, and even his double started to look a little concerned.
“Did I miss an injury?” Mipha asked, scooting closer again, and Wild froze as she approached.
“No, no you got— you got everything,” Wild choked out. He felt perfectly healthy apart from being tired and his falling-apart mental state, just like if he’d used Mipha’s grace. Even though he hadn’t used it in nearly a year because the champions were finally at rest and they’d passed on and Mipha—
Wild lurched to his feet, using a rock for support, and immediately the other Link’s blade was raised again.
“Stay where you are,” he said sharply, and Wild stumbled backwards towards the water. His double’s face grew fierce and he leapt around him and blocked him off from the river. “I said stay where you are! We’ve told you who we are, now tell us your identity or I will treat you as a threat.”
Wild stilled, and swallowed. He might as well explain.
“I’m... well, Link,” he began, and the other Link didn’t move. “You... probably figured that out. I... I don’t know how I got here— I mean, I do, but it wasn’t on purpose, I-I... I don’t know what you mean about a guardian, but one didn’t bring me here.”
Wild looked at Mipha again, and swallowed thickly, his eyes stinging.
“This isn’t a trap. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not here to hurt you,” he croaked, and the other Link pulled his sword back just a hair. “I— my companions and I are traveling through time, but... I think something went wrong,” he finished in a whisper.
We’ve never had anything like this happen with the portals before.
Did the Shadow do this?
“Time travel...” Mipha said thoughtfully, and exchanged a loaded look with the other Link.
His face had creased further, but in a different way, and he finally pulled the sword away from Wild’s neck. He kept it at the ready though, and watched Wild intensely.
“How did you get here?” he asked again, a little less accusatory and a little more curious.
Wild exhaled. “It’s a long story... but it was through a portal,” he said, deciding he would just... ignore what was going on for now. It was that or completely freak out, and he wanted to know more before passing out due to shock. “My group is hunting a Shadow, one ripping holes in time. We’re trying to stop him.”
“So no Terrako then?” Link questioned, and Wild shook his head in confusion.
“No? No... Terrako. Just portals that sometimes spew powerful monsters.”
Link and Mipha both stiffened.
“These monsters, do they have darkened blood?” Mipha asked, and Wild nodded. “Oh my. We’ve seen some up in the highlands, remember that moblin, Link?”
Link grimaced. “Yes. What a disaster. We assumed it was just leftover magic from Astor or something of that nature, not... time travel related. Bazz is still recovering.” He paused for a second, then his eyes went wide and he whipped his head back towards Link. “You said you came through a portal that expels these monsters?”
“Yeah, from upriver somewhere,” Wild nodded. “But it’s not sending out monsters right now. I fell through it, then fell right in the river.”
Link frowned. “So no monsters were coming out when you went through?”
“No, they were all on the other side, my group was fighting their leader. But I don’t know—”
“Papa?”
Link froze, and Mipha looked worried as Wild turned around towards where the voice had come from.
A young, orangey colored Zora was poking his head up from the water, and he looked between Wild and Link, a wide look on his face.
“Papa?” he repeated in a curious voice, and Wild stared, studying the little Zora’s features.
“Stay in the water, Ty,” Link said seriously, and the Zora hesitated, eyes darting between Mipha and Link and Wild. Then he hopped out and scurried over to stand next to Mipha. He hid behind her leg and watched Wild with large blue eyes, and Wild began to shake, recognizing them as his own.
Oh Hylia, haven’t you put me through enough?
Mipha put a hand on Ty’s arm, and he continued to watch Wild, his expression concerned as he studied his face.
“Papa... hurt?” he said worriedly, and Link shifted around so he was standing beside him, and placed a hand on his head.
“No, I’m not hurt,” Link reassured, and Ty switched to clinging to his leg instead, still staring at Wild. His orange scales shone brightly in the sunshine, like the last rays of light before the sun set.
“Wh... who is...?” Wild choked out, and Mipha gave him a look that was as conflicted as he felt.
“This is our son. Tyde,” she explained gently, like she knew the words would hurt.
They did, hitting Wild like a laser, and he felt a mixture of longing and wonder and grief so intense he was nearly sick.
Tyde was small, and as he shifted around the other Link’s leg, Wild saw that his left arm was shorter than it should be, the fins the wrong size. He had Wild— Link’s eyes, and his frame was proportioned more like a Hylian, but he had golden-orange and white scales all along his body, and had the Zora tail on the back of his head.
All in all, he was exactly what Wild would expect a child of his and Mipha’s to look like.
A tear fell down Wild’s cheek without his permission, and he sank back down to his knees, overwhelmed. He was married here. He had a child here.
This was what would have happened if he hadn’t failed?
This was how much Mipha had loved him?
Wild began to shake, and barely even noticed as Mipha approached and knelt beside him, so lost was he in his own mind.
“You’re from the world the older Sidon came from, aren’t you,” Mipha said quietly, and Wild shakily raised his head to look at her. “I... doubt he remembered in order to tell you. Zelda theorized they all wouldn’t recall anything from their time here.”
Wild gave a small shake of his head, and Mipha sighed.
“It’s complicated I’m afraid, but we’ve dealt with time travel before,” she explained. “And me and Sidon, we... we talked a little, about things. He said that in his time the champions were slain, and that you nearly were along with us. But you were placed in a sleep for one hundred years in order to heal, and then you saved the princess.”
Wild nodded mutely, and Mipha’s face turned further grieved. She carefully reached forward, and Link couldn’t help his flinch as her cool palm rested on his cheek, right over his scars.
The other Link behind Mipha had gone white, his sword finally lowered. Tyde tugged at his pant leg, and Link wordlessly picked him up, holding him tightly to his chest as he locked gazes with Wild.
Wild could only imagine what was going through his head.
Mipha wiped the tear off Wild’s cheek then withdrew her hand, giving him the same smile that he barely remembered from a hundred years ago. It almost made Wild fully break down, but he choked back his tears. He didn’t want her to feel like she had to comfort him.
“I’ll h-have to hear about this adventure Sidon had,” he said, managing not to make his voice sound too watery. “Sounds like it w-was something.”
“It was,” Mipha said quietly. “He always spoke so highly of you.”
She looked like she wanted to say more, but Wild’s double spoke up then, Tyde still nestled up to his chest.
“In your world, we... lost?” he asked in a quiet voice, and Wild swallowed thickly.
“We... did. I failed,” he whispered, not looking at Mipha. “The champions... our weapons turned against us. Overwhelmed us. I only survived because of a Sheikah invention that took a hundred years to work so I could fix my failure. So many died...”
He took in a shuddering breath, and looked at Mipha and his double again, their child still watching him intently.
“But you won here. You did it, you won—”
Wild’s voice choked off, and he barely noticed Tyde tug on his father’s sleeve, trying to get his attention. He did notice when Tyde pointed at Wild though, his brow scrunched up.
“Hurt,” he said with another tug, and for some reason that one small word made Wild lose the rest of his composure.
Suddenly it was too much, the sight of himself holding his and Mipha’s child, Mipha herself sitting beside him, her hand on her husband’s arm. It was a family Wild never had, never would have, and the fact that there was a timeline somewhere where Wild hadn’t failed them, where they had the opportunity to exist, it was just—
A small sob escaped him, and he pulled back, his shaking starting up again. Before he could bolt though, Tyde suddenly squirmed out of his father’s arms and padded over to Wild. Wild froze as he put a tiny hand on his arm, and when Wild looked down at him, he ran his hand up and down for a moment before nodding.
“Better,” he declared, then scampered back to Wild’s double.
Wild could only stare, tears dripping down his cheeks as Tyde climbed back into his father’s arms.
“He’s seen me heal before, he thinks he can too,” Mipha explained with a faint smile. “He does that whenever anyone cries, he thinks they’re hurt.”
A thick laugh burst from Wild’s throat, and he smiled shakily through the tears only running faster down his face. Tyde kept watching him, and Link swallowed back the gigantic lump in his throat in order to speak.
“Thanks,” he managed through his tears, and Tyde gave him a shy smile before hiding his face in Link’s chest.
Wild breathed out shakily, shuddering with a sob he tried not to let escape, and Mipha and his double stayed quiet as they let him cry, Tyde quietly watching them all. Mipha put her hand on his arm at one point, and Wild only cried harder, wishing he could remember her more, wishing she hadn’t died, wishing he didn’t even know what.
He merely cried, and Mipha let him, a different version of himself watching in pale-faced silence.
That was where Wolfie found them barely a quarter hour later, Wild’s eyes red as he quietly explained more about the infected monsters, Mipha and his double asking worried questions about what was going on, Tyde resting against his knee.
