Playing With Knives- LoZ

scene 23- out of energy

He was still on his knees in the middle of the field. Which way was the way back? He forgot. It all looked the same to him, especially from the ground. After a moment, he stood up and looked around. He thought he saw trees in the distance, and ruins in the opposite direction, so he started heading for the trees.

What if he couldn't find his way back? What if he was lost here forever? What would happen to him then? He'd be trapped in this unfamiliar world forever.

He started running, breathing heavily. It seemed like the forest was so far away, much further than he had walked earlier.

Did the others even realize that he was gone? Probably not. And all this was over food. He used to eat like there was no tomorrow, but now... now he never felt the need to eat. Anyway, he didn't want to waste food.

He heard a voice in the distance.
"Wild! Wild!"
He recognized Twilight's voice, and he started running towards it. Why was it taking so long to get to camp? It was taking longer than it had to get all the way out there, and he was walking then. Maybe the fight with the bokoblin had pushed him away even further.

He was starting to slow down significantly. Where was all of his energy?

He rummaged through his bag and found a stamina elixir. Maybe that would help. It worked, but not super well. Just well enough.

After what felt like ages, he got back to camp. Twilight looked at him with a concerned look on his face.
"Wow, Wild, you look exhausted. What happened?"
"I fought a bokoblin and got tired out. It wasn't even that tough either. I'm just kind of off today, I guess."
"Huh. I think you need to-"
"Shit it. I know when I'm hungry and when I'm not, okay? Jeez. Quit bothering me about that."

Wild crossed his arms and looked away. What a useless piece of shit he was, bot being able to defend himself. They probably thought that he was a wimp or something like that, considering how often he got hurt and how badly he fought.

But why should he be worried about people thinking something about him that he knew was true? Anyway, it's not like he was amazing either. Just mediocre.

●●●

As night fell, everyone but Wild fell asleep. He couldn't sleep. It was always a challenge to get to sleep. He blamed it on being asleep for a century. The other part of the problem, however, was harder to just explain away. He struggled with getting up in the morning. And not in an "I'm not a morning person" kind of way. He just couldn't find a reason to get up.

There was a simple fix to that problem during his journey. He'd just tell himself that Zelda needed him, and he'd be on his way. Well, not really. It still took a while, but at least there was a good reason. Now, though, it was a chore to find something worth waking up for. And it was a chore because nothing worked. Sometimes, somebody would even have to physically drag him out of bed. And that was when he actually slept in a bed.

Usually, he'd either sit by a fire, or, if there was no fire, then he'd just sit on the side of the bed. He never felt refreshed, either. He was still just as exhausted as he was when he fell asleep.

And what kept him up at night? Stupid, pointless thoughts about stupid, pointless things. Stuff that would only make him feel worse about everything. Everything including himself and what others thought about him. Everything including the world around him and what was happening. Everything including Zelda and the other Links.
Everything would torment him at night, shoving to make sure their words were heard. And he heard all of them. And he thought about all of them. Overthinking and overanalyzing things was his specialty, his talent. What he did best. And he hated it. He hated that he was good at it, he hated that he did it so often, he hated that it was a nightly thing that he did, and he hated that he could never get any sleep because of it.

He hated his mind and his thoughts. He hated himself. He hated how much he hated himself. He despised all of this, yet he never changed a single thing.

He felt like he couldn't. It wasn't in his control. He just thought abou what came to him, what wanted to be heard. How could he say no? It would just keep bothering him. It would do that either way.
Kn 2vvc11
Sometimes that was what he thought about. Thinking. Like tonight. He was thinking about thinking, lying on top of his sleeping bag, wide awake. He wasn't tired or sleepy at all. He sat up, wanting something to do, to distract him.

He noticed that the cooking pit hadn't been put up yet, so he grabbed his bag and crawled over to it. He chose some ingredients without looking and put them in the pot after looking at them for a moment. He always made sure that he was using normal ingredients, not wanting to make an elixir or something dusgusting. He wanted to see what he could make. Sometimes, if he wanted to come up with new recipes, but he couldn't think of anything, he'd do that. Just toss random stuff in the bowl.

He hummed quietly and waited until it was done. When it finished, he took the food out and examined it. It looked good. He took a bite and smiled. It was good. He took out a notebook and jotted the ingredients down.

He did this a few more times, making sure to not make more food than could be eaten by everyone. Then, he laid the dishes by each sleeping bag and crawled into his own.