Playing With Knives- LoZ

scene 63- cold

He teleported to an out of the way shrine, aiming to get away from people. He was a weird mood where he wasn't sad or happy or anything. He was just... empty. Emotionless. He felt like how he acted in the memories.

Except this time, he wasn't following Zelda around. He wasn't being her guard. He had no reason to be like this. He had no right to be like this. He was fine. His life was fine now. He had saved Zelda. He was done.

So why did he feel so.... empty? Sad? Worthless?
He should feel fulfilled. He had finished what he had to. Now it was just keep Zelda safe. But he was never doing that. Always off doing something like this. Sulking around.

He really should be doing his job. But why should he bother if he knew he was shit at it? He'd just get hurt again. Probably not even while fighting.

He sighed and leaned on a tree. He slid down to the ground until he was sitting down. He rolled up his sleeve, undid the bandage, and took out his knife.

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He sat with his arms lying by his sides and looking up. The knife was still in his hand and he hadn't wrapped the bandages up yet. Blood was slowly making it's way down his arm, pooling on the ground. He should probably do something about that.

As he looked up into the branches of the pine, he noticed that white flakes were falling from the sky. Snow. He probably shouldn't have chosen such a cold area. Actually, come to think of it, he had barely felt the cold when he got here.

A snowflake fell onto his face. The only reaction he gave was a blink. It felt nice. Another snowflake landed on his face. He blinked again.

Something- a bird, probably- landed on a branch right above him. A bunch if snow fell off the branch, landing right on him. He sat up, wiping snow out of his face. How did that much snow get on the tree in such a short amount of time? Well, it felt like a short amount of time. It had probably been longer than he thought.

He looked up at the bird, annoyed.
"Hey, watch where you f** king land next time."
He crossed his arms and leaned back on the tree. What an inconsiderate bird.

He sighed. What a weird mood he was in. Yelling at birds. How stupid.
Well, it wasn't really a weird mood. He was just annoyed. Why, he wasn't sure. He was just annoyed. At everything.

That was normal, right? To just be in a bad mood? Honestly, he didn't know at this point. Everything was unfamiliar and weird to him.

He was starting to feel the cold. About time, too. Snow was starting to pile up on his legs. He brushed it off and brought his legs closer to his body.

He had begun to shiver. This was nice. So nice. Very enjoyable. He loved freezing to death in the middle of nowhere. How fun. This was great. Fantastic, in fact. Wonderful. Just wonderful. He loved it. So much. So f**king much.

He didn't want to move. Then he wouldn't be curled up like this anymore, meaning less body heat. Why did he have to choose such a cold place? He should have known that this would happen.

He'd have to move. He couldn't stay here. Even if he was super cold, he'd have to get going soon.

He went to put his knife in his bag, but he realized that he didn't see it. He must've left it in the snow. He started digging around in the snow, searching for the knife. Now his hands were freezing. He found the knife and closed it before putting it in his bag.

He wrapped the bandage around his arm, noticing that there was now a red spot in the snow. Another reason for him to move. He didn't want something to smell it and come to hunt him. That would be bad.

He got on his knees and starting looking through his bag, trying to find something cold-resistant. He couldn't find anything. For some stupid reason, he had only brought his weapons. So no food or armor. Why in Hylia's name would he do that?

He pulled out the Sheikah slate and attempted to go to the map. However, despite his efforts, it wouldn't cooperate. Maybe his hands were too cold, or maybe the slate itself was too cold. Maybe even both.

With an annoyed huff, he stuffed it into his bag, not wanting to try and clip it to his belt. He stood up and started walking. He'd have to get out of here as quickly as possible.

To his dismay, he soon came across a river. A big one. Well, too big for him to get across easily. He'd have to find a different way to get over it. Maybe he could find a high point and paraglide? No, he might slip. His fingers were awfully stiff and numb at this point.

He looked around. There was nothing he could make a bridge with. There were several high spots. He might have to use the paraglider. He sighed, walked over to a cliff, and started climbing.

Within the first minute of climbing, his hand had already slipped twice. There was still a long way to go. This would take a while.

When he finally reached the top, he took a deep breath. Well, it wasn't that deep. The air was too cold. It was windy up here. He looked down at the river below. Maybe he shouldn't do this. The water looked awfully cold.
He kind of had to, though. What's the worst that could happen?

He fumbled for his paraglider and opened it, struggling a little. He held it above his head and jumped. After he had flown several meters, he felt his finger slipping. He gripped the handles tighter, trying not to fall.

Then, his left hand just let go. He couldn't hold on any longer. That caused the paraglider to stop catching air, making him fall faster. He attempted to grab the handle, but he wasn't successful. While he did that, his right hand slipped more. Next thing he knew, he was falling straight into the water.