The Distance Between Them | ✔

3) Mipha

This is really long, but there are breaks in the chapter if need be. Enjoy :>

⚔ In which Link fights Divine Beast Vah Ruta ⚔

With not much else in Hateno besides gathering wood and trading with Pruce in the general store, I decide the best thing to do is talk to people. I'm not entirely ready to leave yet. I feel safe here, almost at home.

I find myself going back to the inn, not just for a place to sleep, but for good company and amazing food. When I walk in this afternoon, Prima looks up.

"Good afternoon, Link," she says happily. I go up to the counter, smiling.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

She looks down at the book and quill on the desk, and her cheeks flush. "Writing," she says quietly.

"Do you like to write?" I ask.

She nods. "Oh, yes. I love writing fairy tales. My late great grandmother loved writing, too. She survived the Calamity and taught me to read and write before I went to school."

"What was her name?"

"Avery. She was the sweetest woman you'd ever meet. Some say I look like her." Prima turns behind her, and points to a portrait behind her. "This is her picture. What do you think?"

I stare at the painting. Not trying to draw the resemblance – that was easy. They did look the same. I stared because I could swear I've seen this woman before. It feels like I'm reuniting with an old friend, sharing memories of the 'the good ol' days' but I don't even know what the memories are.

"Link? Are you alright?" Prima asks softly.

I shake my head, setting my face.

"Yes, I'm alright. I can see the similarities," I sign.

Prima nods. "Do you like to write, Link?"

"I've never tried."

"Not once?" she shouts, aghast. I shake my head. She turns to who I learned was her young brother to take over the desk. He sighed and groaned but obliged.

I follow Prima down to the tavern in the basement and to a table in the corner. It's barely big enough to sit four people. She plops her quill and journal on the table and tells me to wait a moment. She returns with a few other journals, each in different colors, a new quill, a graphite stick, and a new ink well.

"Take your pick," she says.

I look between her and the pile of supplies she's made. "Pick what?"

Prima laughs. "A journal, silly. Which one do you like best?"

I pick up one with a dark green leather and brass binding and a lock. Prima smiles.

"What now?"

"You keep it. I have so many I don't know what to do with them. Write whatever you want."

"I'm not a storyteller."

"You don't have to be a storyteller. You don't even have to write stories. I have one where I just write down what happens, or how I'm feeling. It helps when I'm sad."

I look again at the journal, flipping through the blank pages waiting to be filled.

"How much for one and the graphite?"

Prima smiles. "Nothing. It's on the house, and don't think I haven't noticed those tips you leave us for dinner."

It's true. They're food here is amazing. It tastes like a home I knew before. I leave a good tip considering the money I have.