Twilight couldn't sleep.

There wasn't a specific reason for it. More like an amalgamation of reasons that all added together into one giant Reason. He couldn't pinpoint the exact cause, but whatever it was, he wished it would go away.

With a sigh, Twilight sat up. The fire, which had been a blaze when he dozed off a few hours prior, was just smoldering ashes now, barely radiating enough warmth for the group of heroes asleep around it. The wind whistled through the trees, rustling the leaves and chilling Twilight to the bone. He pulled his fur collar a bit tighter around himself, savoring its warmth.

Wind slept at the foot of Twilight's bedroll, wrapped up in his own blanket. The thing was thin—barely enough to protect the sleeping form beneath it. In fact, Wind shivered in his sleep, his face scrunched up against the biting cold. Twilight stood and crept towards Wind. Gently, he draped his blanket on top of Wind's, and a few moments later Wind's shivering subsided.

Twilight sighed. Wind would probably be offended by that number, but he didn't care. Mature or not, the poor kid needed to stay warm, and it wasn't overprotective of Twilight to donate his blanket, especially since he had no use for it now.

Twilight bit his lip as he watched Wind's chest rise and fall. He was so young. Brave, fierce, and a skilled fighter, but young. No matter how many times Twilight watched the boy prove himself, he couldn't stop seeing the village children. Wind could hold his own in a fight, but that didn't mean Twilight couldn't care for him and protect him.

He did a once over of the other eight heroes. There was Time, asleep farthest from the fire, propped up against a tree like he was ready to attack at any moment. Four slept next to Wind, not shivering due to his extra clothing layers. Legend and Warriors were out cold close to the fire, the former's arm thrown over the latter's chest. Sky slept with one hand on the Master Sword's scabbard, and Hyrule was curled up closest to the fire, hair poofed up from the constant wind.

Wait.

Seven heroes.

Where was Wild?

Twilight panicked for a few moments before remembering that Wild took first watch tonight. He'd be nearby, maybe up in a tree or on a rock, somewhere with a good vantage point. One glance at the moon's position in the sky told Twilight that it was probably well past Wild's shift and, with a sigh, he set out to find him.

They really needed to stop letting Wild take the first shift. He almost always stayed out far too late, claiming that he didn't need to sleep and that the others could rest. They all knew there was something else to it, something he wasn't telling them, but no one had the heart to push it, not even Twilight. The group had only been whole for a few weeks, and no one was ready to spill their secrets.

It didn't take Twilight long to find him, perched on a decent sized flat boulder just at the edge of where the others slept, picking at his fingernails with a dagger. He was surprised that he didn't see him during his once-over, but Wild's cloak was just dark enough to blend him in to the shadows. Twilight climbed the rock and sat next to Wild, who didn't say anything.

They sat like that for a few moments, watching the night bugs spin through the night air, riding the wind as it whistled through the forest. Finally, Twilight broke the silence. "It's past your shift."

"I know," Wild said, not looking up from the knife.

"You should've switched out with Four by now," Twilight continued.

"I know," Wild said again.

Twilight sighed. This wasn't getting anywhere. Wild obviously didn't want to talk about himself right now, so Twilight opted for a different approach.

"I couldn't sleep," Twilight said.

Wild set the knife down. Good, now he was willing to talk. "Why not?"

Twilight shrugged. "Lots of reasons."

Wild nodded in understanding. "I have a hard time sleeping too."

That much, Twilight knew. A few times in the past weeks he'd curled up next to Wild as a wolf while he slept, offering comfort when words could do nothing. Even then, Wild sometimes woke up in a cold sweat, unable to speak except in clipped words and twitching hands.

They sat in silence again. It felt like even the world quieted, the whistling of the wind now a soft whisper rather than a dull roar.

After a while, Wild looked at him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Twilight hesitated. Did he? Did he want to open this can of worms onto the young hero next to him? Did he really want to spill all of his problems and bring them to the surface of his mind? Did he want to talk about it at all?

More than anything, the answer was yes.

Yes, of course he wanted to get it off his chest. Of course he wanted someone to relate to, someone to reassure him and comfort him. All of the heroes were secretive in their own ways, even
Twilight, but keeping quiet about everything that bothered him all the time was exhausting mentally.

Hesitantly, he nodded.

Wild turned his whole body to Twilight then, his face open and inviting. Twilight waited for him to speak, but he didn't.

He's letting me start, Twilight realized. He doesn't want to pressure me.

Twilight met Wild's eyes. "I'm on edge. All the time, I'm on edge. I worry about everyone, and I worry that if I turn my back, they'll all disappear." He looked out into the night sky. "I see you all, and I see you all disappearing like the children, or," he swallowed, "or like her."

Wild didn't have to ask who she was. Twilight had told him his story already, a story that only Time and Wild knew all the details of, much like how Twilight knew all of Wild's story.

"It's silly, I know. To lose sleep over her," Twilight continued. "But I can't help it."

Wild shook his head. "It's not silly. Losing someone that important to you… it's cause to lose sleep."

Twilight swallowed again. "That's not all of it, but… I think it's all I can put into words right now."

Wild nodded.

They fell into silence again. Wild shivered and pulled his cloak tighter. "I guess that's why I can't sleep tonight either."

Twilight jumped. "What?"

Wild looked out into the distance, his eyes growing unfocused. "Someone I lost. Someone I loved."

What?

Twilight didn't remember Wild ever mentioning a lost love. He wracked his brain, searching for a name or a story that Wild had told him, and came up with nothing. Was Wild referring to his Zelda? No, that couldn't be right; Zelda was safe in Wild's Hyrule, overseeing the repairs to her kingdom.

"Mipha," Wild clarified, noticing Twilight's confusion. "Her name was Mipha. She was a champion."

Mipha. The name sounded familiar enough from Wild's stories, but Twilight didn't remember the other ever mentioning love for one of the champions. The most Wild ever said was that they were all friends.

"I'm sorry," Twilight said, because it was all he could think to say.

"We never really made it official," Wild said, leaning back on his elbows. "But we spent so much time together… I don't know. I only have fragments of my memories, but I know I loved her. And I know she loved me."

Wild was far away now, his eyes glassy as they stared up at the heavens, towards a girl long dead. He looked pained, like he was reaching out with his gaze to pull her back, but he couldn't reach far enough. Twilight couldn't imagine what it felt like, to remember that you loved someone, but barely remember them at all.

Wild joked that he was an open book to them; that he spilled his life story because he couldn't keep it secret. The scars that spiraled up his side, covering half his face in wicked lines, told the story so vividly that he had nothing to hide.

And most of that was the truth. Wild was an open book to them. He told the facts. He told the story like it was information and nothing more. He told it the way a warrior would write a mission recap.

Wild was not an open storybook. He was an open textbook.

And now Twilight saw a side of him he'd never shown. He saw the side of a boy who'd lost everything—his friends, his family, his home, his love, himself—far too young. He saw a boy so eerily similar to himself that his heart ached just to think about it.

Without another word, Twilight drew Wild into a hug. Wild immediately relaxed into the embrace, wrapping his arms around his mentor. They clung to each other so fiercely that Twilight couldn't tell who the anchor was. They both needed comfort, and they both provided it.

When Twilight's shirt grew damp where Wild buried his face, he said nothing.

And when tears pricked at his eyes and trailed down his face, Wild said nothing.

There they sat, wrapped in each other's arms, remembering and mourning, clinging to each other like a lifeline in a raging storm.

When Time found them in the morning, asleep in a tangle of limbs and fabric, he didn't have the heart to reprimand them for sleeping while on watch. He just smiled fondly and turned back towards the others, hoping that the two had found a comfort within each other that no one else could provide.

And if the woods knew what the two mourning heroes dreamt of in the far reaches of their minds, if they held a secret that only the pair knew, they kept their silence.