#threaded

Within two minutes, Kinov asks: "do you think Mommy will like it? I tried to make it look like our house!"

It looks nothing like it—if anything, it only looks like mounds of sand piled on top of one another.

Link gave him two big thumbs up and a toothy smile. "It looks exactly like it. She'll love it!" He brings two buckets to the waves to fill them up—one for him and the other for Kinov to wet the dry sand—but as he nears the water, Link furrows his eyebrows together.

He glances at Kinov, who's still busily patting at the mound of sand he's created.

There's something about the water…

Link crouches down near the waves, watching the methodic rhythm of it lapping up and down the shores for a couple of seconds before he cups his hands and brings the water to his face. He observes himself in its reflection; an endless sea leers back at him, calm and unwavering. Crystal clear, as all water from Lurelin is. It leaks between his fingers, streaming back down into the warm ocean. He watches it trickle out of his hands until the pool of water has dribbled back down onto the sandy shores.

Tentatively, Link reaches out toward the water lapping up the shore, expecting another pair of hands to emerge from the waves to hold his, to cradle it, to share its warmth with him.

But all that appears in his hands is the salt that clings to the glassy sheen dripping from his eyes.

"Silly," she said with a bright smile and rosy cheeks. Even under the shade of a palm tree, they couldn't escape the heat. "I thought you were silly and weird, sometimes a little awkward, but it was endearing, frustratingly enough." She scrunched her eyebrows as she pondered about how many more tiny adjectives she can affectionately throw at him. He had asked her about first impressions, but he mostly just wanted to see her thinking face. "Silly, weird, awkward…" She counted off on her fingers, one by one.

Without thinking, he hooked his index finger around hers.

Zelda, without a second thought, returned his strange gesture and enclosed her finger around his. She wrapped her other arm loosely around her knees. "Summer always makes me a little sad. It reminds me of hummingbirds," she muttered, her previous train of thought leaving. She slightly swung their fingers back and forth as Link dwelled hard on her statement.

Summer was… hot. Warm. It reminded him of ripe hydromelons and buzzing cicadas. On rare occasions, he preferred it over the cold.

"Hm." Zelda buried her feet into the sand as she hummed. It was only on quiet afternoons like these where Zelda would be able to relax her shoulders; to drop the poised, careful image of the Goddess that usually dragged behind her. "You know, the beach always reminds me of you."

Link glanced at the cerulean sea, watching it lap up and down the shore for a brief moment.

"I mean, of course the color of the ocean is part of the reason, but you remind me more of this." She let go of his finger to pat the space between them—the sand.

"Sand?"

She held up a finger. "No, not just any sand. Beach sand," she whispered, almost secretively.

The air around them stilled as Link gathered his thoughts. "No one likes sand. No one goes to the beach for sand," he stated matter-of-factly. If there was anything he was sure on, it was this.

Zelda's eyes sparked—something that usually happened when she saw an opportunity for a tasty challenge. "Sand is the best part of the beach. Do you know how interesting sand is?"

Link stared at her blankly.

"Don't look at me like that!" Zelda swiftly rubbed at the crease between his brows.

"No one goes to the beach for the sand," he reiterated, pressing against the spot that she had touched.

"Well I do!" Zelda placed a hand over her heart as if he had insulted her to the highest degree. "Sand is the best thing about a beach! If I wanted to swim in plain, regular water, I can just go to a lake. It's far more time-efficient than traveling to a beach."

Link quietly laughed to himself. "When I first met you, I thought you were weird too. You're still pretty weird."