A woman staggered through the trees. Her vibrant white hair was stained with clotted blood. Tired violet eyes stared out of a haggard, pinched face. She might have been pretty, but the blood and pain had stripped it from her. A small bundle was clutched to her chest, the only spot of warmth.

Terra felt herself trip on a root, as if in slow motion, turning to shield her child. Dirt, twigs, and rocks stabbed at her arms and ribs, drawing more blood, but she didn't notice amidst her other injuries. She was so tired…

Three shapes watched from the trees as the woman dragged herself deeper into the forest. They wore simple tunics made of woven bark fibers, and scraps of salvaged cloth. Each wore foot wraps made of more woven bark, with grass linings, leaving the toes, heels, and balls of their feet exposed for traction. Carefully selected bark was tied onto their shins, serving as greaves. Their forearms were armored similarly to their feet, covering the back of the hand, and the entire forearm, while leaving the palms and fingers exposed. An ornate bark mask, carved with eye and mouth holes covered their faces. Strips of woven bark flowed from the mask, giving the impression of a mane, or wild hair. Underneath this was a single band of woven bark that actually did hold the mask on their heads.

Braided strips of bark fiber served as belts and straps for their equipment. All carried small bows, with quivers, and the unstrung bows strapped to their backs. Each also bore a small stone knife in a crude belt sheath. Small and large pouches littered their belts.

Two of them carried four-foot spears, and small bark shields. The final member though carried a dirk like a short sword, strapped over one shoulder.

Terra pulled herself forward, and let go, forcing her arm to reach out, grab, and pull, just a little farther. She almost didn't even notice the feet standing in her way until she touched them. The dying woman looked up blearily, and saw three faces from her childhood nightmares. Carved wooden faces with sharp teeth and rolling eyes watched her impassively, two leaned casually on spears, but the middle one had its arms crossed. Kokiri: forest spirits with a penchant for killing trespassers. She clutched the dirty bundle closer, and her baby began to cry. The one without a spear cocked its head, and cautiously stepped closer, kneeling beside the woman.

"Don't- don't eat, my son," the woman begged. The spirit touched its face and lifted, revealing a much different face beneath the fierce mask: a young girl, no older than eleven, despite her strange eyes and green skin. She had a kind face with the haunting beauty of a child. Green tattoos, or warpaint, lined her face, making it… well not intimidating, but certainly memorable. She had green hair, and warm blue eyes… but the woman shivered. Those eyes, set in the face of a child, had seen the slow passage of centuries. A tiny winged woman emerged from the wooden mask's tangle of hair, glowing a faint pink; a Faerie.

The girl spoke softly, her voice like soft spring leaves, "Peace, woman, you have not come bringing harm to our forest, so likewise do we return the favor."

Two more Faeries came into view, from the pair of kokiri guards, an emerald and a golden glow wreathing them, respectively. These two lights danced over her body, and returned, to whisper in the girl's ear. She nodded sadly, "Your wounds are beyond our skill to heal. You do not have long remaining to you. Would you ask a boon of the Kokiri?"

Terra could feel the truth in the girl's words. Already her legs had grown cold and numb.

"Save my, son, forest spirit," Terra whispered, loosening her hold on her baby. The girl gently took up the squalling infant, and expertly crooned to him, softening his innocent anger.

Terra could feel her chest tightening, "His name, is Link. After his father." The pain began to dull, and she felt weightless.

Saria watched the spark of life leave the woman's eyes. The baby, Link, was a spot of warmth against her childish breast. The warrior to her left crouched, and gently closed the woman's eyes.

"Thank you, Mido," Saria whispered, tickling the baby's chin. Big, innocent violet eyes looked up at her, twisting the immortal child's heart around his little finger.

"Joro, go and fetch the Twins," Saria ordered. The second warrior nodded, and darted off into the growing gloom, invisible in the forest. Mido pushed his mask back, revealing a shock of red curls framing a boyish face. His eyes were caught between blue and green.

"Saria, he is too young," Mido whispered, worry in his tone, "He was not found by a Faerie."

"Hush, you worry too much," Saria admonished.

Mido rested his chin on her narrow shoulder, looking at the baby. In a matter of moments, the battle was lost, and Link had ensnared another heart. The faeries giggled quietly as they played with the baby, who kept reaching out to grasp the elusive twinkling lights. Mido's tail wound around Saria's. To kokiri, it was similar to holding hands.

Minutes later, three Kokiri returned, all carrying spears. A liter was fashioned, using two pairs of spears for the poles, and the poor woman's cloak lashed between them. Mido, Joro, and the Twins each grabbed a corner, and followed Saria through the silent woods. They might have had the bodies of children, but together, they easily carried the corpse between them. She would be buried at the roots of the Great Deku tree… and her son would be raised as a Kokiri.