It was the day after the blood moon. It had risen in the middle of the night with no warning, and Link saw it. He was caught in the open plains, surrounded by his fears and thoughts, things he had defeated and suppressed. The sky was a clear dark indigo and it was a pleasant looking indigo. Indigo was pleasant, Link reflected, and he made it a mission to catch fish that made him think of the color. His favorite fish were those. He ate them to become what he needed to become.

A groan sounded off to his left, off beyond the fields. He made sure his sword was ready. He had it in his hand and looked at its sharp, destructive edge. It was not an indigo sword and Link lamented it. But he could not have everything. He took out the tablet he had on his belt. It whirred and clicked and beeped. Strange lights came out of it. He did not understand this technology, but he knew the old Sheikah clan was advanced beyond reckoning. More groaning. He waited for the device in his hand to stop clicking. Sometimes he banged it on the ground just for the sheer thrill of it. He broke it once and nobody could repair it except old Repair Man, down deep in the Hills.

"Where you headed, boy?" a cultivated voice said. It came from the opposite direction of the groans.

Link paused and sized up the owner of the voice. He said nothing.

"Didn't nobody never tell you not to wander these there fields here at night? Have to pay up for that one, son. Pay it up now. Pay up to me."

Link still said nothing. He was not going to talk his way out of this one. Not when he didn't need to. Swords talked too, he knew. They talked fast. They were born with it. Born with the power to talk. 

"That sure is somethin' now," remarked the stranger, clothed as he was. "Sure is somethin'. Come on out of there now and talk to me like a gentleman."

Link would do no such thing. He had seen such apparitions before, off in the other days when he was back in them. But these sorts had a history of being where they weren't wanted. He pulled his sword out and with three quick swipes, ended the encounter.

Link moved on, ignoring the groaning that persisted. It was not his problem. He had to figure out where his next meal would be. He could not eat his sword. He sat down and sighed. This situation was a boring one. He knew it. But adventuring was not all about fun or excitement. Sometimes it was about nights like tonight. Red moons and red runs and red eyes glinting out of the dark. They were all harmless. Link looked at the redness. He was becoming red himself. He did not know how to deal with this. He could not imagine what this night would turn into. He had had too much of the potion back in Brackernor's house. He was not supposed to be here. He was on the verge of a crushing defeat. Tomorrow he would be back to normal. But he did not know this.