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Wind hadn’t spoken a word all morning. Legend had been keeping an eye on him for two days now, but this was the first time he’d stayed so silent for hours at a time. He looked paler, too. For the past two days he’d been irritable and lethargic, but it hadn’t interfered with his performance within the group. Whether any of the others had noticed, Legend wasn’t sure. They all knew how touchy the sailor could be when he felt he was being coddled, and not without reason. Every hero had, at one time or another, been caught treating him a bit differently because of his age. It was never because they believed him to be incompetent, but even after talking it through with him, Wind still tended to keep it to himself if he needed help, in some twisted effort to prove himself. If Legend had to guess, no one had questioned it because similar situations came up relatively often, and the sailor always either figured things out himself, or bit the bullet and asked for help before things got too bad. It made sense that none of the others had intervened. But this was the third day of Wind’s growing restlessness, and Legend was beginning to worry.
Wind was hanging back, walking slower than the rest of the group. Four and Hyrule, next to Legend, were absorbed in a conversation, so he slowed down himself, falling into step with the sailor. Upon closer inspection, the kid looked even worse. His blanched skin was sweaty, and blotched with angry red. He was shivering, even in the afternoon sun, swaying on unsteady feet. Legend worried he was close to passing out.
“Hey, Sailor,” Legend said, trying to get the poor kid to speak. All he got, thought, was a rough hum of acknowledgement. The vet frowned. He put a hand on Wind’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks, and kneeled so they were eye-to-eye. The sailor didn’t protest when he pushed his sweaty bangs aside to feel his forehead. He was burning up. “Sages, kid… Why didn’t you say anything?”
Wind only mumbled, unintelligibly. Legend sighed, steadying his swaying with a hand on each arm. It was extremely telling that the sailor didn’t struggle as he lifted him. He wrapped his legs loosely around the veteran’s hips, and buried his clammy face in his neck. Legend worried about his lack of reaction. He was all but catatonic: exhausted, feverish, and definitely in pain. Legend murmured assurances as he carried him to the front of the group, where Time and Twilight were leading.
“We need to stop,” he said, as softly as he could while staying firm and urgent, “The sailor’s got a high fever, he can’t travel anymore today.”
They halted, alarmed, and the rest of the group came to a curious stop behind them. The rancher reached a hand to Wind’s forehead, brow furrowing deeply when he felt the sweltering heat.
“Hylia,” he said, turning to the old man, “He’s burning up.”
“We’ll make camp here,” said Time, addressing the group, “Sailor is sick and needs rest.”
There weren’t many surprised faces in the crowd. Most of the heroes had noticed something was off with their youngest a day or two ago, but none of them knew how bad it was. The sailor had apparently gotten better at hiding it, which was concerning in its own right. Chatter spread throughout the party, as they all did their part to set up camp. All except for the veteran, who still had Wind securely in his arms.
“I’m going to get him some water,” he told their leader, who nodded his approval.
Legend sat in the shade of one of the many trees that speckled the edge of the road. He faced the wide meadow beyond, acting as a sort of watch while he kept a careful eye on his youngest brother, who was taking tiny, stagnant sips from his waterskin. Wind was leaning on him heavily, though not as heavily as he should have been. The sailor had lost weight, and it was only obvious when Legend had him in his arms. He combed his fingers through his sweaty hair, doing his best to soothe him.
When Wind stopped drinking, and feebly pushed the waterskin away, Legend corked it, and asked, “How are you doing, Sailor?”
“Bad,” said the kid, letting his head loll on Legend’s shoulder, “Did I pass out?”
“Not quite,” said the vet, with a rueful chuckle, “Came pretty damn close, though. Your fever is higher than Din’s flames, kid. What happened?”
Wind shrugged, “I thought it was just a cold. Normally I could walk it off, but… it just kept getting worse,” he sniffed, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, Sailor. Sometimes things like this creep up on you. But next time, even if it is just a cold, let us know, alright? That way we can keep an eye on it, so something like this doesn’t happen again.”
The sailor nodded, mumbling an affirmative as he burrowed further into Legend’s neck. Legend staunched the stream of questions begging to flow from his mind to his mouth, and let him drift in and out of sleep as the others finished making camp. Wind felt small in his arms, so much like the child he pretended not to be. It made him think of the time, so very long ago, when Gulley fell ill, and he and Irene had to nurse him in Legend’s own house, because a blacksmith’s forge wasn’t best suited for a sick child. They’d been so young back then: Irene hadn’t yet started her witch’s training, and he had taken up his uncle’s sword just a year prior.
In fact, the sailor reminded him a lot of Gulley on his best days. He was energetic, tricky, and full of snark. Legend was grateful they had never met. It was impossible to know whether they’d become the best of friends, or hate each other more than Ganon himself. Legend couldn’t see how either outcome didn’t end in abject ruin. The thought made him smile.
He pulled a cloth from his bag, part of an old sewing project that would never be finished, and wet it with his waterskin. He laid it on the sailor’s forehead. Late afternoon melted into early evening, and a cool breeze blew from across the meadow, foreshadowing nightfall. Legend sighed with relief. No doubt it would help break the fever. But at the same time, he worried about the coming dark. Would it be too cold for the little sailor? He could taste in the air that the frost had gone some weeks ago, but the nights would still bring a harsh chill. Early spring was temperamental, very much like mid autumn. Chilly mornings warmed into hot afternoons, which faded back to cool evenings, and cold nights. Of course there was no telling when it might start pouring rain. Spring rain felt like the ice melt of winter, cold as snow but not nearly as pleasant. Legend prayed to Din that it wouldn’t start raining any time soon.
As if to prove his point, Wind shivered in his arms. Wild had dutifully gotten the fire going, so Legend scooted them closer to it. The sailor was molding himself to his front, as close as he could press. Legend squeezed him, reassuringly. He was dozing again, rasping breath pulling him in and out of sleep. Wild, putting a lid on the pot to simmer, frowned and came to sit next to them.
“Hey, Champ,” Legend said, bumping their shoulders together, “What have you got cooking?”
“Soup,” said the champion, “I tried to follow the recipe he gave me, the one his grandmother makes.”
“He’ll enjoy that,” the vet smiled.
Wild was still frowning, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “It won’t be the same,” he said, “I just can’t perfect it.”
Legend heaved a fond sigh. “That doesn’t matter. You made his favorite soup for him, when he was sick. And you did your damndest to make it the way he likes. That’s what matters.”
Wild leaned his head on the shoulder Wind wasn’t occupying. Legend made his peace with the fact that he was the favorite pillow of some of the younger members of their group. The reason for this, he could not fathom. He knew himself to be rather boney. But he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy it to some degree.
“I’m worried about him,” said the cook, gazing into the fire.
Legend nodded, “Me too. But he’ll be okay. This kid beat Ganon, a little fever isn’t going to take him down.”
“Yeah,” Wind murmured, in a scratchy voice. Legend and Wild broke into startled laughter.
“How are you feeling, Sailor?” Legend asked, as the kid lifted his head.
“I smelled soup,” he said.
“I made some,” said the champion, “I followed the recipe you gave me, but I don’t know if–”
Wind perked up immediately, before Wild could even finish his disclaimer. “You made Grandma’s soup?” he asked.
“I tried,” Wild said, “Do you want some?”
The sailor nodded his head, then looked like he regretted it, wincing. Wild stood and ladled some of the soup into a bowl. “Would you like some too, Vet?” he asked. Legend nodded his head, and Wild poured another bowl, then a third for himself. The others helped themselves, giving the sick sailor some space. Hyrule had found a creek, about a quarter mile east, and went to do laundry. The smithy was doing weapon repairs, but only those that could be done quietly: rewrapping hilts, mending shield straps, and so on. Twilight and Warriors, after eating some soup, went to do a parameter check. Those who were left without a task were reading, or chatting quietly. Afternoon was steadily fading into evening, and the heroes were winding down with it.
It did not rain that night. Legend slept with Wind snug in his arms, and Wild pressed against his back. They were safe under the eyes of the rancher, who had taken first watch. The sailor, after a day and a half of rest, was ready and raring to continue their travel after being sick for so long. Legend watched him bounce between heroes, telling jokes and hearing stories, when they were back on the road again. He breathed in the clean air of the borderland between meadow and forest, and for a moment, he felt young again, too.