Link looked up from his fried meat and glimpsed the sun through the gray, ominous clouds. Another sunless day, he thought sunlessly. The fire in front of him was a warm orb of warm fire. He liked lighting fires and then sitting by them. Something about it gave him a sense of satisfaction, like he was able to stay alive in the wilderness if necessary. 

His sword lay on the ground next to him, glinting like a gleaming sheen of silver. Truth is, it had always looked like that. Something was special about this sword: it never seemed to tarnish or rust and instead maintained its burnished shine as new as the day it came out of the forges gleaming like a new sword out of the forges like new. He liked that. He liked swords. He liked swords all the time. Sometimes he bought a sword just so he could look at it and then slam it down on the store counter just to see the reaction of the shopkeeper.

He laughed to himself. Sometimes those days just couldn't come soon enough. He needed to head to Benelock Village to replenish his potions. Once there, he could find a weapons store and impress the shopkeeper's daughter with the new sword that looked like new but in fact wasn't. "I'm afraid it will come to that," he said to the fire as he doused it with its own tears. He laughed and laughed. "This is the way it is." The fire hissed and sang like an angry snake.

Link pulled his boot off and tossed it on the smoldering embers. He liked doing that. He pulled off one of his leather gloves and flung it into the bushes just because he could. He poured all his potions out on the ground. He would be getting more soon so it was fine. The Magical Potion in particular was blue. It was blue and bluer than blue than the blue blue than the sky blue that was the blue of the sky when it was clear and not full of clouds like it was now such as today for example when it was gray and black and white but blue is what the color of this potion was when he poured it out on the ground which took it.