Link almost goes for his sword when he catches fast movement at the corner of his vision, but stays his hand when he realized that's most definitely an unarmed person, not a monster. Then the figure gets closer, and... he...

This is the voice that was speaking to him. He knows it for sure. His breath catches in his throat. He feels drawn to her like gravity. Protocol calls for him to kneel—where did that thought come from?—but another part of him banishes the thought as silly, like a well-worn debate inside of him he's hearing again for the first time. He knows this person, but...

But he's also forgotten who she is.

When Zelda reaches him, he's standing there staring at her dumbly.

She slows gradually as she approaches, from her initial arrowlike flight to a mere mortal sprint to a run to a jog and finally to a brisk walking pace. When she thinks about stopping completely, she feels exhaustion well up in her bones at the thought and sharpens her will to the task, which is not over yet.

"Um. Hello," she says, stumbling to a halt in a way that somehow manages to imbue exhausted wobbling with beauty and grace. "You—won't remember me. I'm Zelda. Princess of Hyrule. Things have gotten complicated in a number of respects but the important things are simple. Open the shrines, recover your strength, free the Divine Beasts, reclaim your sword, defeat Ganon. Optionally try to get your memories back. I can help with that too."

Her rambling staggers to a stop in much the same way that she did, and she stands there looking at him, hopeful and wistful and lost and relieved and as firm of purpose as a compass pointing north.

There are now at least six new things pushed onto Link's task queue, which he is only now realizing exists as a specific thing in his head. He has too many questions about what all of those words mean and who the girl is because "Zelda, Princess of Hyrule" rings a bell but doesn't actually tell him anything.

But he opens his mouth, and his heart feels like it's going to lurch out of his throat for some reason, and what comes out is,

"Are you okay."

She—

—opens her mouth, closes it again—

Smiles, very warmly, all of a sudden. Smiles at him like he's all she's ever needed.

"Yes."

A moment's further hesitation.

"...are you?"

He isn't sure what that means, the way he is.

"I'm weaker," is what he finally says. "I don't remember anything. But I'm ready."

She nods.

"I... need somewhere safe to rest. It's been a journey, getting here from the castle. We can talk more once I've slept."

...the next words escape without her permission, unplanned, unconsidered. "It's good to see you again."

He cannot say the same, not remembering a separation. He doesn't know what he is to her. So he says nothing to it instead of saying the wrong thing.

The first part, however, he is ready to answer.

"There's an old shack a few miles south east."

She nods crisply.

"All right. Thank you."

A slight hesitation—she should ask him to guard her rest, according to logic tactics, habit, and protocol. But she finds that when it comes to it, she... doesn't know how. Can't bring herself to presume.

"...I'll find you again when I wake up."

What?

"I should accompany you." Something about the dismissal is vaguely upsetting, and something about his needing to object moreso. He's caught flat-footed: he thought it went without saying. He can't trust his intuition as much as he thought.

"There are monsters," he adds in an attempt to justify.

Oh, no, now she's caused this to happen. This is what comes of making moves you didn't plan days in advance.

"—sorry," she says. "I've... been on my own for a long time. I wasn't sure anymore. But you're right."

So he hadn't misjudged, and she was just...?

One step at a time.

He'll leave the food for the wildlife. It's nothing he can't make again and better. He nods and jerks a thumb shackwards.

"I'll lead."

And he sets off, watching to make sure she follows closely.

"...do you not want your food—?" If he doesn't want his food can she have his food? She does not need food anymore. It's fine. She follows.

He does not currently have the discernment to infer her food avarice and assumed that rest was higher on her priority list.

"Hard to carry. I can make more."

He picks his way down the slope, instinctively making a path a less agile person can safely descend on, but then remembers the inhuman grace with which she found her way to him and speeds up to a good jogging pace.

"All right."

She keeps up easily, her boots almost soundless on the grass. It occurs to her only belatedly that something feels strange about this arrangement, and then why, and what, and then she doesn't know if or how to explain. It just seems like a lot. She can explain after she sleeps off the journey. (She won't sleep for a whole day, right? It can't have been that long, coming here? It would be so embarrassing and also inconvenient if she upset Link by sleeping for a whole day without explanation. But if she tries to explain she isn't sure she will be able to stop explaining and then where will she be? She almost wishes she didn't remember her other life, or where these powers came from—except that if she didn't she wouldn't be here, she wouldn't have trusted this insanity enough to try it, and she cannot possibly regret being here.)

Oblivious to Zelda's internal turmoil, Link makes his way for the shack, wondering if he'll have to haggle with the old man about using his "house". He runs ahead to clear out a Bokoblin camp ahead at some point, but otherwise the journey is uninterrupted. When they approach, it occurs to Link that the log cabin is really run down, not really fit for royal habitation, but they don't have better options, so the Princess will have to get over it.

The man is there when they emerge from the trees, hood pulled down and lurking around the corner of the cabin. His head raises at the sound of crunching leaves, and his dark eyes find the pair, and he stops—

And he steps out of sight.

He's gone by the time they get there.

"—Who was that?"

"I don't know. Haven't seen anyone else on this plateau. He said I'm welcome to sleep here."

"He... didn't seem happy to see me. I suppose his reasons are his own."

She ventures into the cabin. Does it have: four walls, a roof, and at least one soft surface?

It has four walls, a roof, and... straw and cloth covers on an elevated piece of hard wood, if you call that a bed.

It's been a century since last she slept. She'll take it.

"I might sleep for... a long while," she says. "I've been—I'm not sure how to explain. I'll," she stifles a yawn, "try, to answer questions, when I wake up. It shouldn't be longer than a day, I don't think." That questionable bed is getting more tempting the longer she looks at it, but she's not going to just douse herself like a lantern without waiting for Link's acknowledgment. It matters to her very much whether or not she has succeeded in reassuring him about the possibility that she might sleep an abnormal amount.

Nod. "I'll stand guard."