A Change in the Wind
November 28, 2025 at 10:32 PM
The forest children always told stories.
For years, they warned each other about the mushrooms in the woods to their younger peers; Don’t eat the rushrooms–you’ll become a rabbit and run faster and faster without ever stopping. Don’t eat the red ones–they’re poisonous and you’ll grow old and DIE. Don’t eat the green ones until you want to get sick, need to use the bathroom and…you know, it will be GREEN when it comes out.
None of the fibs were true. Saria never partook in those pranks. To her disappointment, others did it all the time. Mido and his crew of friends got involved in the shenanigans whenever they could, feeling a need for laughs. Saria never understood the logic behind it.
There were other tales beyond the jokes. Legends, as well as truths. One talked about a Kokiri’s birth: Every so often, a flower will emerge from the ground where the Deku Tree dwells. Its petals will stay closed for nine months. After waiting quietly, the petals will unfold and in the center of the bloom will be a newborn baby.
That baby is precious. That child is sacred. They are a part of the forest–one of the children of the woods.
Every living creature in the forest witnesses the birth. A fairy guide comes to the child to let them know that they’ll be one. The rest of the children will welcome the child, holding the baby in their arms. The child will be with the children. The child will have their own fairy.
The baby is precious. The child is sacred. They are a part of the forest–one of the children of the woods.
There were the tales many Kokiri children believed. Even Saria wasn’t always sure of particular legends:
There’s a monster in the forest that will eat you alive if you wander too far in the woods without knowing your way.
If you don’t listen to your fairy, you’ll be considered bad and turn into a Skull Child for misbehavior.
If an outsider gets lost, their fate is worse than ours; they’ll become a Stalfos, roaming the forest FOREVER.
These were all stories of the Kokiri. For ages, they had been told. For many ages more, the children of the forest would continue telling the tales, without fail.
The children passed stories around now, more than ever. It was the only way to deal with the hiding.
Saria moved gingerly in the shade of a forest grove. She welcomed the cooling shadows as she crept to the foot of a wide oak with plentiful branches and leaves. At the foot of the tree was a gathering of red mushrooms–Hylian Mushrooms, the kinds Mido unkindly said were poisonous to just about every Kokiri that’s ever lived.
There was nothing inedible about them. As a matter of fact, the opposite was true; Saria always felt extra strength after enjoying a skewer of them, especially when endura mushrooms were added to the mix as well. The delicate fungi were paces away. Saria only had to come a little closer.
She couldn’t afford to be heard. They could be nearby anywhere.
Seven steps. Saria counted every part of her path ever since she stepped out onto the surface. She liked thinking that this mindset would help her find the entry house, though the village had been her home through the ages. Saria knew how to navigate…but just in case she was found, she’d know the way back while running away.
When Saria reached the foot of the tree, she knelt before the mushrooms. It was hard for her to hold her wicker basket while dressed in a sheet of sackcloth. The sackcloth had a variety of greens and shrubs pinned to it–moss, leaves, dried spinach, ivy that wasn’t poisonous and dead berries. They were meant to camouflage, to help any Kokiri that came out blend in. It was meant to protect them in casetheyappeared. And appeared they often would.
As Saria plucked the first of the Hylian mushrooms from the ground and into the basket, she heard grumbling within the container. A few soft thumps made Saria’s heart leap–how could she be reckless while out on a search for food–followed by a small head sticking out of the basket.
A tiny woman with dark skin and violet hair emerged. She was more than small in size; she could fit easily in the smallest part of Saria’s palm, and often had. The woman in the basket slowly rose. Fluttering disrupted the quiet air. The woman’s clear wings flapped, becoming constant swirls sprouting from her back.
“Get back in the basket,” Saria whispered.
“Watch where you put your food,” Nadya hissed back.
“I’m sorry,” Saria said, continuing to focus on her gathering of food. “You’re more than free to join me out in the open–as long as you stay in the sackcloth.”
“You said my light would glow in the dark–and even in daylight, like we all used to do.”
Nadya had a point–Saria did reprove her guardian fairy for glowing too brightly during scavenging trips. Her aura drew attention in ways other fairies learned to control. Saria didn’t understand why Nadya wasn’t like the others. She and Nadya had been inseparable since birth. The brightness of Nadya’s light always gave comfort to Saria, serving as evidence of a love that would always watch over her.
Unfortunately, Saria needed less of that evidence. The love could remain. The glow could shine as brightly as it needed to down below, but here? It’d be fatal. It’d be the beginning of the end and Saria couldn’t abide such a possibility.
“I wish I could let you shine your light whenever you wanted,” Saria continued, keeping her voice low. “But we both know…”
“Yes…we do…we–LOOK OUT!”
Saria felt a hand on her shoulder. It wasn’t just her heart that leapt–her skin broke out in goosebumps, her neck hairs stiffened, and her bones may as well have jumped out of her body, turning her into a fleshy heap. She was certain it was over until she heard the snarky tone of a whisper that said “Oh, I guess you want us to die then.”
A cloud of rage swirled in Saria’s chest as she calmed down. She stood and whirled around, already pointing a finger at the boy draped in an equally camouflaged disguise. Through the eye holes, she saw the smug expression the gaze carried. It took everything in Saria to keep her voice low to a whisper.
“Are you trying to get us killed?” Saria hissed.
“I mean,” said the boy, whose voice was also a whisper. “You’re the one who screamed. I’m sure the Moblins and Wolfos will definitely find us now.”
Saria dug a heel into the soft ground beneath her. “Mido, you could have whispered to me so I’d know it was you! Where have you been?”
Mido showed off the only weapon Saria saw him wield–a small slingshot with a worn leather strap.
“I was trying to catch a rabbit,” Mido explained. “It’s been a while since any of us have had meat. I almost got it, you should have seen me.”
“The only thing I want to see is the next day.”
“Again, you screamed. Not me. As boss of the Kokiri, I have to make sure Inevershow any fear. It’s how we’ve stayed alive for the past seven years.”
“Then maybe you can fight off the monsters that took over.”
“I told you I’m working on a plan.”
“You’ve been doing only that for seven years. Starting to plan.”
Saria turned her back to Mido and knelt down. She sped up her gathering of mushrooms, snatching them up in bunches and chucking them into the basket until this side of the tree was barren. Saria trudged around the trunk to see if there were anymore. Mido stayed behind. His fairy’s faint glow showed beneath the sackcloth.
“I’m not even sure if we need to worry so much,” Mido continued. “We could probably talk loudly if we wanted to.”
“That’s a bad idea Mido,” Saria said as she realized there weren’t any more mushrooms or plants to find.
“I know, I know…but I just think we might be safe here.”
“We’re not safe anywhere. We can’t afford to think that way.” Saria shuffled through the mushrooms. She quietly checked on Nadya–she looked irate at her charge, crossing her arms while giving her a playful scowl.
“Did you already forget?” Nadya mouthed.
“I’m sorry Nadya,” whispered Saria. She glared over her shoulder at Mido. “Our fearless leader decided to startle me.”
“His fairy is equally problematic,” Nadya whispered. “I hope he didn’t hear that.”
“I did,” said a muffled voice beneath Mido’s sheet. “You’re not my favorite either!”
“We shouldn’t argue,” Saria pointed out. “You may think we’re safe, but I think we need to be more…careful…”
Saria stopped in her own tracks. She heard them–echoes and cries. They sounded distant at first, then reverberated in her ears, as if the voices grew wings to fly by her head so she could hear them. Only a few sounds rose before more of them filled her head.
They were voices. Voices from somewhere in the forest. Saria looked around, alarmed.
She even heard Mido saying “Saria? Saria, are you…?” before she tuned him out.
Saria dropped the basket. Nadya fluttered out, her face full of pure anger and no amusement this time around. Again, Saria didn’t notice. She wasn’t ignoring anyone–the sounds were just so powerful. They were just so powerful and now formed words but even the words were too hard to perceive.
And then she felt the wind. Something changed in it. The breeze had a mixture of power and peace, of a force that wasn’t there before. The forest was quiet for the past seven years. Even the strongest winds felt difficult to be around, like they’d reveal the secret of the children’s location. Regardless, they were never powerful.
But there was something different about the air. Saria remained fixed on the voices and wind until the ground beneath her shook and a grunt from somewhere not too far from where she stood snapped her out of her trance.
“Saria…” Mido shook at Saria, his fingers digging into her shoulders as he checked in with her.
“We have to go,” Mido said. “Come on, we need to run!”
Mido wasn’t whispering anymore. He wasn’t smiling either. His fairy broke out of Mido’s sack cloth covering. They both fled towards the forest village.
“Come on, Saria!” Nadya soared from the basket and flew in the same direction as Mido and his fairy. “Don’t fall behind–we need you!”
Saria finally moved. She picked up her feet and the amount of steps between each tree flooded her memory.Seven steps…six…three…ten…
As she ran through the forest, Saria felt like everything had become a blur. The brown trunks were crowned by evergreen crowns of leaves. Then, they were a washed part of the scenery, objects Saria barely perceived.
The children and fairies dashed into the village. It hadn’t looked the same for these past seven years; vines grew outside the homes, hanging on whatever they could cling to. The grass grew sprouted high over time as well. It aspired for the sky and Saria wished they actually reached it so they could hide.
The large footsteps behind them weren’t as loud. They were likely safe at this point. Still, the risk couldn’t be taken.
As Mido and Saria went into a house, Saria thought of a new story that had been passed around in recent times:
Whenever a friend of the forest comes, peace follows. That friend will never be lost in the woods because even woods want them to be alive and embrace everything in nature.
When a true hero comes, there’s a change in the wind. When that happens, the hero arrives shortly afterwards and everyone in the forest will know that all will be well.
“A change in the wind,” Saria thought to herself. “...Link. Link will be back soon…”
Surely it was him. Who else would it be? Saria had been there since Link was a baby. He was destined for greatness. The Deku Tree said as much before he died. Link had a destiny to save Hyrule…and now that journey resumed.
“Saria…”
Saria looked over at Mido. He pushed aside a table. He was halfway into the hole and gesturing for Nadya and Saria to join him.
“Come on,” said Mido. “Let’s get down here…”
Everything was starting to make sense. Link had come back from wherever he disappeared to. And soon, he would be here in the forest, saving the world like he was meant to.
“Come soon, Link.”
Saria went towards the hole. She draped the wicker basket over one of her arms and descended down below the surface.
