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The snowfall is gentle, coating the ground in a soft white sheen. Soft paw prints pad through the fresh powder, hopping along through the overgrowth. A tiny patch of green breaks through the blanket of snow, bringing pause to the rabbit. It stands perfectly still, alert, serene.
One eye closed, staring down the length of an arrow, the bow creaks under Wilds hands. Even, steady breaths in, the bow string cuts into his fingers. One more deep breath, he pulls tighter, drifting ever so slightly right. Makes a minute adjustment to the arrow with his forefinger—
SNAP
They both startle— The rabbit tenses— Wild lets go—
Snow puffs up from the wind of his arrow, dancing around the falling flakes to obscure his vision further. It settles after a moment, drifting down onto the piece of fluff pinned to the ground. The rabbit is already nothing more than a memory, having scattered into the forest under the cover of a missed shot.
Wild sighs, rolling out his shoulders with a wince. He stands, hands above his head in a stretch to try and pull some of the ache out of his body. He spins slowly, dropping his arms to fold them across his chest at the interruption.
Twilight looks utterly unimpressed with him. The broken branch still lays under the heel of his boot. It looks intentional— it probably was. Twilight opens his mouth, but Wild gets their first.
"Slates running low, its fair game."
Twilight raises an eyebrow at him. Wild curls in on himself a little, only because the cold feels like its burrowing into his bones, not any other reason. There's a little spark of guilt in the back of his gut, which is ridiculous because the slate is running low and he's not actually doing anything wrong.
"I cook for nine people, I go through supplies relatively quickly," Wild tries to defend, "How am I supposed to take care of things if I can't get what I need. I know you don't like it. That's why I didn't bring you."
Twilight just huffs his distaste. Fifty things to say immediately come to mind, but he Wild tucks all of them away behind clenched teeth. Instead, he breaths out long and heavy, trying to blow off some of that hunting tension. Its hard to tell if its working.
"Wild."
Its definitely not working.
Aptly ignoring Twilight, Wild turns and starts to clamber into the overgrowth. The brambles are not a particularly enjoyable experience, but his arrow still looks usable, so off through the thorns he goes.
Stumbling between hidden roots and ever a danger to himself, Wild swears as he stumbles directly into a tree. When did it get so cold? When did his balance get shot? He chooses to blame it on snow covered ground, shivering as the wind picks up a little.
Wild rights himself, and pushes forward, grumbling about the world in general. His fingers downright hurt at this point, and he's starting to think he hates the snow. Maybe its just colder than usual, he can't quite tell.
Despite his best efforts, the ground remains out to get him. He hits an actual ice patch this time, and the world goes sideways—
His cloak catches him via strangulation, Twilight having grabbed the back of his hood. Wild's hauled to his feet with a wheeze, trying to find his feet. Wild doubles over, coughing with that bitter, sharp feeling settling in the back of his throat.
Distantly, Wild is aware of Twilight hoping through the undergrowth to fetch his arrow for him. That's sweet, Wild kind of wants to strangle him for it. Make him miss his shot, then scold him for a completely normal activity, and then go fetch his things like he's a child. And sure, Wild knows he's being ridiculous and petty, but the world won't stop spinning, and he's tired, and cold, and his body hurts, and he would really like it if the world stopped spinning now.
Wild takes a deep breath, standing up straighter and trying to tamp down the vertigo he feels at the motion. Twilight is making his way back over, holding out his arrow for Wild to take. The rancher opens his mouth, but pauses, tilting his head as if he's listening for something.
Wild takes his arrow back, sliding it into his quiver while he turns to listen with Twilight. He strains his ears, and if he focuses, he can hear the light ring of steal, and something that, distantly, sounds like growling? It ticks his fight or flight, and Wild can see Twilight tense beside him.
The shouting is what really gets his attention.
Wild takes off, ducking through the foliage and hopping roots as he bolts back to the chain. He doesn't need to look behind him to know that Twilight is hot on his heels. His vision is starting to blur, wind picking up and the snowflakes get bigger, obstructing the forest around them.
Wild lists to the side slightly when he hits a hard patch of snow. Wolfie zips past him as he staggers, and Wild takes off behind him only a few moments later.
The wind bites at his ears, clawing a sharp cold into his bones. Still, he darts through the frozen greenery, sliding under branches and sidestepping greenery in his efforts to get to the sounds of clashing metal. An odd, cold sense of vertigo washes over Wild as he bursts into the fight, and he nearly biffs it as he slides to a stop.
It takes a moment for his head to catch up with his body. He takes a few sharp, cold breaths, trying to steady himself before he jumps into the battle. Alright, assess, take note, whats the issue— ah. The bastards back.
The Lizard throws its head back with a roar, calling a battle cry from the rest of the monsters, Time and Warriors are holding its attention well. Legend and Hyrule are back to back in the middle of the swarm, while Four and Sky are chipping away at the Hinox on the other side of the field. Twilight hasn't bothered to slow down and transform, throwing himself in and doing work as Wolfie. Sky is— admittedly, Sky is looking a bit cornered.
Focus picked, Wild's grip tightens on the bow he's carrying, notching two arrows. HE closes an eye, tracks a Bokoblin as it prepares to take a swing at Sky. A glance at the bows ribbon, flicking in the wind, adjust his aim slightly, the Boko raises its club—
SNAP
A shot through the eye, and one a bit lower. The monster staggers, spinning to lock onto him. It screeches, bubbling black blood pouring over its teeth—
SNAP
It falls to the floor melting into a black nothing. Wild pops another arrow onto his bow, picks a target, adjusts—
SNAP
The arrow sinks through another bokoblin, pinning it to a tree. The perfect opportunity for Sky to finish it off
SNAP
Arrow to the back of the knee, the Lizalfos stumbles. It drops its guard so Sky can swing down and finish it.
Wild draws the arrow, takes a breath— A blur of Red and Pink stumbles into his line of sight.
Wild's breath catches, string already slipping between his fingers. He tries to pull his shot, but he feels too slow. Its like ice, crawling through his veins instead of blood. He jerks, too slow as the arrow slips off—
SNAP
The arrow puts a whole through the end of Legends tunic, making the other hero startle. Wild breaths again, relief washing over him as his lungs burn. Legend throws a sharp look his way, "Watch it!"
Wild turns, biting his tongue as he reassess the battle, because that would have totally been Legends fault, but whatever. Sky effectively uncornered, Wild re-scans. Four stumbles under the swing of the Hinox, and its already raising arm for another swing. He nocks three arrows—
SNAP
Three arrows embed in the Hinox's arm, throwing the monsters swing. Four rolls out of the way just in time. There's a snapping to his right, and wild hand blushes his slate, drawing a shield to his hands.
"Champ, Six and Eight!"
Wild blocks the first Lizalfos swing, but the second one catches him by surprise. He jerks back, spearhead slicing across his forehead as he overbalances.
He his the ground with a thud, winding himself as his head cracks against the cold soil. Wild squints against the stars in his eyes, trying to peer through the blurry snow swirling in the growing storm. He barely manages to catch sight of the Lizalfos raising its club, so Wild raises his shield—
A hand closes around the back of his tunic, and he's hauled out of the way. Wilds dropped on his feet, stumbling as Time slips in to play defense for him, slicing at his attackers.
Monsters too close, Wilds hand slips down to draw a sword from his slate. A lizalfos hisses at him from somewhere in the sleet of snow, just as his fingers brush his slate. He turns to the sound, the Lizalfos lunges, and he swings his— fuck, where is his sword?!
Wild's swing turns into a pathetic scramble of a dodge. Cool, his slate didn't give him anything even though he's sure he summoned something— cool cool cool, that's fine. Time to improvise
Wild slips the shield off of his arm, gripping the sides with his hands. The Lizalfos rights itself, spinning to lunge again almost immediately. Wild swings against its momentum, shield-turned-bat cracking against the monsters skull.
A sick crunch rolls over the battle field, impact rattling Wilds bones. The Lizalfos drops the the ground, and before Wild can move to finish it, Times sword swings in to finish the monster off.
Wild takes a breath, lungs burning, shaking as he turns back to the battle field, raising his improvised weapon— ah, its over.
Wars is looking at him and his shield like he's gone crazy, but Legend and Wind are cackling so it evens out, "Dude, nice shot!"
Wild smiles sheepishly, mostly because it would be embarrassing to admit that his arms are still shaking from the impact. Actually, all of him is shaking. With the adrenaline of the fight starting to ween, he can feel each trembling breath in his tight lungs.
His hands hurt, curled around the edges of his shield. He's so cold, the sharp bite of wind and snow clawing deep enough it hurts. He feels weak, dizzy and of kilter as his body feels like its about to tremble apart beneath him. He pulls the shield a little closer to his chest, trying to tamp down that sick, anxious feeling that something is wrong.
Wild jumps as time appears at the edge of his vision, flinching away from the hand suddenly at his face. Undeterred, rime reaches up, brushing back Wilds hair. Time frowns, and Wild winces as the old mans fingers brush the slash along his forehead. Time stares for a bit too long, making Wild bristle a bit, "What?"
The old mans frown deepens, "Head wounds normally bleed a lot."
"And?"
"And this one isn't."
"Shouldn't that be a good thing then?" Wild questions, pulling away from Times hand. The old man is staring him down like he's a puzzle to be put together. Wilds not sure the bristling feeling is from the cold, or from Time. The old man opens his mouth—
"Hate to interrupt—" Sky's voice draws the attention of the pair, "but we need to get going."
"Where too?" Asks Time, investigation set aside as they walk over to join the group. Wild pauses to take stock of everyone. Admittedly, they're all looking a bit worse for wear; Fours got a gash down his side, Hyrule's looking off balance as blood leaks out of his hairline, and Legend is leaning on Wars, gingerly holding his left foot off the ground.
"Follow our lizards trail," Answers Warriors, slinging Legends arm over his shoulder, "See if we can find shelter. If not, hope there's a portal to somewhere warmer.
"That's a shit plan," Wind grumbles through chattering teeth. One of them really needs to buy the kid a winter coat next time they're in town, he looks miserable.
"Look, you got something better?"
Nothing but the hiss of snow and wind answer answer the captain. Its still for a moment, everyone shifting and looking between each other. The wind pick up into a sharp howl, finally prompting the group to stumble into the forest.
The storm is only growing with time, snow flakes getting heavier as they whip through the trees. Wild can barely see Sky in front of him, leading the way.
Group moral is less than stellar. Wild can hear Legend and Wars bitching at each other from the back of the group. Winds teeth are still chattering beside him, but Twilight's hand appears on his shoulder. Wild just leans into the feeling and closes his eyes.
He's not sure when they find the cliff wall to follow. He's not sure he cares. All of his focus goes into putting one foot in front of the other. He can't feel anymore, hands and face gone numb. The storm keeps raging around them, ruthless in its assault on the chain.
Wild… Wild is so tired. Maybe that's why his foot catches on a stray patch of ice. He tilts, tumbling into the snow. It muffles the sound around him, and for a long moment, Wild considers staying. He's not sure he could get up if he tried.
A pair of hands scoop under his arms, hauling him back up. That's happened a lot today, he wonders why. He struggles to keep his feet beneath him, cold and numb as the are. The body behind him slings his arm over its shoulder, helping him stumble forward.
"Wild?"
Twilight's voice is full of worry, so he does his best to turn and look at the other. The ranchers eyes are knit with concern, "You feeling alright?"
"Cold," is the only vaguely coherent thing Wild can bring himself to mumble.
Twilight purses his lips in thought, looking Wild up and down. A hand brushes over his forehead, "I can tell…"
Twilight's staring, and Wild can't quite figure out why, "What?"
The wind whips around them, almost stealing away Twilight's quite, nervous mumble of, "You look pale. Deathly pale. And Cold."
Wild wants to make a walking corpse or back from the dead joke. He doesn't think Twilight would appreciate it at the moment (Accurate as it might be). Wild fumbles for something reassuring to stay instead, but keeps drawing blanks. He opens his mouth, unsure of what stupid thing is about to tumble out of his mouth, but chatter ahead interrupts him.
Twilight breaths a sigh of relief, then drags Wild forward. The champion blinks, and then its darker. The wind and snow have stopped, and his footsteps echo slightly— ah, they've found a cave.
There's a slight commotion, and twilight peels away from his side. Wild blinks— there's something being pressed into his hands, and it draws him back down to reality. Its a round, bright ready vial. He doesn't quite process it, but instinct kicks in and he downs the potion like a shot.
He can feel the effect starting to ebb at his aches almost immediately. A bit of that fuzzy head fog starts to clear, and he doesn't quite hurt as much. That biting, bone deep cold stays, and his hands aren't quite following his movement as well as they should. That's fine, he can work with that.
The chain crams themselves into the cave, dropping backs and bedrolls as they hide from the snowstorm raging outside. Separate to the others, Wild sets up shop at the mouth of the cave, clearing out a decent sized section of snow. Complaints of the cold spill out from the back of the cavern, and he keeps carving. The bigger the fire the better, right? Everyone is so cold. Its just-
He's so tired.
Wilds hands still in front of him, dropping down to his sides as he kneels limply. Little bites of cold pepper his face, and he takes a deep breath of freezing air. Its cold enough that it burns his lungs, wakes him up a little. Just a little bit longer.
The fire pit is smaller than what he planned, but it will work just fine. He's already sitting, limbs heavy enough he isn't quite sure he could get back up if he tried. Wild brushes a bit more snow to the side, before settling down into the snow. There's a pins and needles feeling settling between his shoulder blades (Right under all that Sheikah tech). He chooses to ignore it.
Cold brushes at his sides, but Wild is barely feeling it anymore, instead a steady numbness peppers his limbs. He stopped shivering a while ago— And that's bad, isn't it? He should be more worried than he is. Still, it keeps his hands from shaking as he unclips his slate from his belt. (He drops it in the snow twice anyways.)
Fire, that's the goal, right? But the world is white, damp and wet, none of the logs out here will do them any good for flammability. He keeps logs in his slate just for this—
The slate flashes blue at his request. Thinks for a moment. Then does absolutely nothing.
Huh.
Wild blinks at the thing, a shiver separate to the outside cold crawling down his spine. He tries again, the slate slow, unresponsive as it ignores Wilds commands. He almost growls at the thing, hits it against his hand as if that will jump-start—
A high pitched buzz fills the air, and the world whites out as his slate sparks. It crawls up his arms, blue sparks flitting down his back-
Snowflakes dance in front of his face as Wild breaths out, gasping for air. His visions gone funny, with bits of odd color spotting across his sight. There's a buzzing in the back of his skull, and more clearly than ever, he can hear that subtle, quiet click of machinery that makes up his heartbeat.
The world is sideways— actually, that one might be him. Wild takes a breath, trying to push himself up despite gravity and vertigo insisting he doesn't. He looses that fight, obviously, tumbling face first into the snow, like a marionette under an amateurs control. Not what he was trying to do. Damn, why is he so light headed, why is that clicking so loud?
He can feel the beat of his heart against his chest, the only sound not muffled by layers of water. He's too hot, his heart feels too heavy. Wild swears he can feel the movement of blood under his skin like water—
"Wild?"
Ah— That's his name. He blinks up at the blurry figure standing above him. He trying to get his eyes to focus on the other hero. The world still spins slightly, colors blurring together, blotting out their face. Its… Time? He thinks it might be Time?
The old man crouches down next to him, "Everything alright Champion?"
Its too hot— He's too hot. Wild can feel beads of sweat forming down his back, and he shivers for no discernible reason. Its fine, that's fine, isn't it? What was he— Right! Time. Wild pushes himself up again, unfolding his limbs and nodding, perhaps to aggressively because woops! There goes his balance.
The world lists to the side with the motion of his head, and Wild feels gravity doing its best to tug him over. He stumbles, trying to subtle put his hands down to steady himself. He hopes Time didn't notice.
The old man narrows an eye at him. Okay, he absolutely noticed.
Something presses against his forehead, and Wild blinks, startled at the sudden presence. He pulls away from Times hand slightly, and the old man frowns at him, "Temperature feels fine."
Really, cause Wild feels like he got dunked in one of Tabantha's rivers, then spit out onto the burning sand of the Gerudo desert. How can someone be that hot and cold at the same time? Of course, he says none of this out loud. Instead, he opts to scrabble around to nab the water flask also attached to his belt.
Time moves to help him, but Wild bats the old mans hand away. Time just sighs, expression tight and worried, "Wild—"
"I'm fine, old man." Wilds better than fine, actually. He feels great! Well, maybe not great, especially temperature wise, but he's feeling better by the minute. Its as if someone cleared out the cobwebs in his system, he can feel his head clearing with each moment. His temperature feels like its slowly evening out, and his limbs feel looser than they have all day.
The old man, however, clearly does not believe him, though, he does back out of Wild personal space, "Are you sure you feel fine?"
"Yes Time, I feel fine." Wild reply's, exasperated. Seriously, does no one believe him capable of reading his own body? Really, it just feels like his body got reset— Too hot, Too cold, his own heartbeat wrong in his chest, water, taking his first breath for the second time—
Oh.
A snowflake drifts down, landing on his bare hands. Wild shivers, attributes it to the cold he's beginning to feel again. He pushes the memory out of his mind, what happened with the slate is nothing like that. He's perfectly fine. (The metal lining his spine shutters, creaking as it keeps him alive. It clicks in time with a heartbeat he doesn't really have, red tubes woven in and out of the machinery. Something is wrong.)
"Wild—"
"Time"
The old man shuts his jaw with a click, mouth forming a tight line. He looks more irritated that worried at this point. Wild sighs.
"Look, the slate did something weird, ifs fine now— I'm fine now. So what's the problem?"
The old man stares him down. Wild stares right back. He is perfectly fine, and will not break to someone a hundred years younger than him. Time doesn't brake his stare, narrowing his eye a little. Okay, he might break to someone a hundred years younger.
Times eye feels like its burning into him, like he's some petulant child, supposed to feel guilty over doing nothing wrong. He's felt like that a lot today. Wild chooses not to think about that too hard.
Time breaks first. He doesn't stop staring, but something in his gaze softens. He looks almost… sad? "Alright Wild, its not a problem."
Time pats him on the shoulder, hand lingering for just a moment. Time sighs, before turning and retreading back into the cave. Wild watches him go, then turns his gaze to the rest of the heroes. Everyone quickly busies themselves, trying and failing to pretend they weren't just eavesdropping (Well, everyone save Legend and Wind pretend, those two don't bother. At least Legend has the decency to look away.)
Wild grumbles to himself, turning his attention back to the task at hand. Not a single ounce of manners from any one here. (A little voice in the back of his head calls him a hypocrite. Wild tells it to shut up.)
Turning back to the impromptu fire pit, it seems his slate has finally gotten the memo. He drags the fresh, (Mostly) dry logs into the pit, and starts stripping the bark off of them for kindling. Its not long before the pile is alight, followed by a chorus of cheering echoing from the cave behind him.
Dancing, bright and warm, the campfire is the perfect draw for the rest of the chain. Twilight and Time are noticeably absent from the rotation of heroes trying to get warm, but Wild pays it no mind. Really, he's two focused trying to get a damned cook pot out of his slate.
"Everything good over there champ?" Legend asks, light, teasing. Wild tries not— doesn't, let it irritate him. Still, he's cold, tired, and none of his equipment is working right. The jab digs deep into that gut feeling that something is wrong. He worries his lip between his teeth, barely listening as the conversation derails into something else.
"Wild?"
The champion flicks his eyes over to Sky, crouching down next to him. The tiny motion makes him dizzy, and he puts a hand on the ground to steady himself. Sky takes notice, placing a hand on his shoulder to help him get steady, "You doing alright."
Wild tries to nod around the tightness crawling up his throat, but it sends the world spinning again. He feels sluggish, cold, he can't bring his arms up like he wants to. Compared to his high a handful of moments ago, he feels like he's crashing.
(Adrenaline crash, a voice in his mind that sounds suspiciously like Zelda says, or at least something similar. Somethings wrong Wild, do something about it.
Something is wrong. He feels wrong. He rolls his shoulders ever so slightly, and the mechanisms trailing down his spine don't reply. His slate buzzes with missed information. Something is wrong. Do something about it.)
He thinks he mutters the words aloud, because Sky's face twists in worry. Sky yells over his shoulder, but the words slip away from Wild before the register. There's a blackness creeping into the edge of his vision, despite his best attempts to stay in the present.
A buzzing in his ears picks up, and the rest of the world drops away like its under water. Vaguely, he's aware of a hurried conversation happening around him, but he can't quite latch onto it.
Someone picks him up, he thinks, cause suddenly he's got a weightless feeling to him and the world spins.
They're moving, maybe. He can't tell if the ground blurs past him because he can't focus, or because they're running. The storms picked up again, he thinks, because that biting wind is back. He curls deeper into the arms that hold him.
Hours slip by, or maybe seconds, he can't quite be sure of which. He only really checks back in when the person holding him, Time? Least, that's what the voice sounds like when it answers someone else. There's yelling about finding something, he's not sure what.
Times direction changes sharply, and Wild feels a wave of black wash over him as he feels sick. That buzzing gets louder. The chatter grows from its place underwater.
"—We don't know what's on the other side—"
"—if we stay here—"
"—Guys, just—"
The world does something funny then, and he feels like he's being dropped. That weightless, vertigo feeling hits him, and he only hangs on long enough to think Portal before that darkness takes him.
— — —
Wild wakes, and for the third first time, feels like he's drowning.
He's too hot— An odd change of pace. He jerks his eyes open, scrambling to sit upright and he breathes— truly breaths, because he's not trapped under water this time. He stumbles onto his hands and knees, gasping a little at the shock of cold air as he surfaces.
Water rolls off him, dripping back down into the— where is he? Wild blinks, trying to bring his eyes into focus. Its grey and white, the edges of the water lapping at stone, steam slowly curing into the air— Hebra, he thinks. One of the hot springs. Wild takes a deep breath, and for the first time in a while, properly breaths.
He can feel his ribs moving easier, that tight grip on his chest has loosened. His limbs actually move at his command— imagine that— and don't feel quite as heavy. His temperature seems to have actually regulated itself. There's a slight thudding in his ears, and that's…
Wild brings a hand to his chest, breathing deeply and feeling the pseudo heartbeat in his chest. It runs smooth, beating in perfect time. He rolls his shoulders slightly, feels the metal plating down his back shift in perfect time with his movements. He feels good, he feels—
"Wild?"
Wild does not jump out of his skin when he realizes that there are other people around. He whips his head around to stare down twilight, almost slipping on the wet rock and eating it in the process. He looks up at the rancher, and— oh.
Twilight looks pissed.
Or maybe not pissed. Its more somewhere between irritation and worry. In return, wild offers up his best I've done nothing wrong and don't know what you're upset about don't be mad smile.
The ranches just sighs and looks more irritated. Ah, he's really fucked it this time. He's not quire sure what it is, really, he only half formed memories of whatever happened. Though, he's sure Twilight is about to fill him in on what went wrong.
Wild sits there and waits for the lecture. Twilight sits there and weights for… something. Wilds not really sure, his head is still catching up with his body. Did he concuss himself, it sure feels like it.
Twilight shifts, and Wild snaps his attention back to their staring contest. Twilight breaks away, shuffling around in his bag to pull out—
Huh. His slate. That's a new one.
Twilight holds the device out to him, but doesn't let go when Wild moves to take it from him. Instead, he takes it as another chance to pin down Wild with his stare.
"Y'know, you really scared us all with that stunt."
Wild doesn't know, because he has no idea what Twilight's talking about, but he shifts uncomfortably under the attention anyways, "Sorry?"
"No your not."
No he's not. Mostly because he doesn't know what he's supposed to be sorry for. Twilight somehow looks more tired as he lets out a light laugh. He finally relinquishes the slate to Wild as well.
"Purah swung by to fix your slate."
Ah, that's probably why it looks so polished— Hold up, "Why?"
Twilight looks unimpressed, raising an eyebrow, "Why d'ya think?"
Truly, Wild has no idea. It probably has something to do with his vague memory of face planting into the snow. He thinks that's it anyway.
Wild clicks the slate on, startles a little when he realizes its auto opened to the page displaying his vitals. On the screen, numbers flick up and down, stats counting his— well, his everything. Ever set of data it needs to keep his heart pumping, his blood flowing, his body alive. A vague memory stirs somewhere in his head, of the clicking of his back slowing to a stop, and the puzzle pieces start to fall together.
Wild winces without meaning too, hooking his slate to his belt. Twilight looks lightly vindicated by his expression, but the emotion fades quickly. Twilight reaches out, placing a hand gently on the champions shoulder. His voice is strained this time, almost pained, "Wild."
"I know." Wild mutters, looking off to the side, "I'll…" He doesn't really know what he'll do. He can't really fix something that himself, but he doesn't know what else to do.
The hand on his shoulder tightens, "Tell us next time."
Okay, he can do that. If nothing else than for Twilight's sake, because the rancher looks like he's been torn apart an put back together. Twilight opens his arms a little, and Wild clambers over to give him a hug. For only for Twilight's sake (Liar, Wild hugs back twice as hard as Twilight did).
They stay like that for a moment, lost in their own little world, before Wild mutters in his ear, "Why dump me in the water? Seems like an odd choice."
"You told us about how some of the hot springs had healing properties last time we were here," A small glint sparks in Twilight's eye, and he adds "Worked the first time didn't it?"
Wild throws his head back and cackles. Twilight just snickers and pulls him in tighter.