The cold morning air is stagnant, especially at this height, provoking and tempting the lungs. A small rattle is felt, a damp cough pounds its way up the throat and forces itself violently out via his tiny mouth. The disheveled appearance would have fooled any and all of his former comrades, as he portrayed no more the Greatest Mercenary in Hyrule, a title he was determined to prove he could reclaim. His tattered robes and shoeless feet were met with a bent sword. Surprisingly, the only thing more damaged than his appearance was his inner soul. A long trek is always a grueling affair, pushing the legs to the point of oblivion, where each step feels like a milestone. The mountains seem to grow taller with each passing second, taunting the mind and body with spontaneous rushes of powerful laughter that eat the mind and dissect it to reveal its every weakened nerve. Exposed, the pilgrimage continues. Generally these are made by those of strong will and heart, but every so often one can be so disillusioned that the entire journey can be spent without a conscious thought. The small mercenary was somewhere in between, with every thought poking and prodding his will and hope. The last 36 hours repeat in his mind, the play button of his memories stuck down; a village, a warrior, and death. The only thing that breaks the dreaded silence is the laughter of the wind, and he despises the sound with a passion.

From the other point of view, preparation for the inevitable, a beautiful sunrise, a new day, a new beginning. As the first ray bends over the top of the mountain, it beats down on the land in an unforgiving manner that states today will be a hot day, a day of success, though that was widely known, the day after triumph is always the greatest, victory is sweet and the following meal was sweeter. A masked face, a sword with spilled blood and a new minion, the keys to success were his.

The sun soon appeared in full force, it's devious rays propelled as if angrily and honed in on the mercenary. Grenada's journey was one wrought with pain, both physical and mental. The uphill battle and the long journey were finally at the climax and as he put his foot on the highest point on the mountain, questions flood his mind and his newfound happiness is crushed by the same longing that he so dearly has hoped wouldn't have the strength to follow him. The sun shone blindingly into his eyes, a tear falls free, the vista before him a joyous sight. The Deku Woods that had become so familiar, now so different, so meaningless; a passing traveler on the road below, meaningless. And with the step down, the beginning of the descent, a lost opportunity. The voyage down easier on the body, yet no more so on the soul.