ok I pull up

I play with my new wind powers as Floofy and I walk down the river, going the long way back home.

An hour into the walk, I decide that this is too slow and hollow out a fallen tree using my old saber, finishing off the previously chipped iron edge.

The result of a couple of hours of chopping is a dugout canoe inspired by Native American shipbuilding. I load all my stuff into the makeshift boat, and Floofy takes his place at the bow.

The boat floats successfully as I push it into a mellow section of the river, and I guide it out, wading in the river until the water reaches my knees.

I paddle with sure stokes in the crystalline section of the river, creating a small, bubbly wake behind the boat.

With my manipulation of water mana, I'm able to skillfully maneuver the canoe over and past the white-water sections of the river.

In the roughest part of the cruise, a bag full of valuable shiekah tech from the guardian comes loose, and I'm forced to clumsily use wind mana to bring it back aboard.

The rest of the journey is smooth sailing. First mate Floofy and I spend our nights tucked in quiet coves and our days paddling downstream, taking in the view of the high canyon walls around us.

After a few days of travel, I spot the familiar forest that I remember surrounds the cabin on the hill, and we pull off to the side of the river.

I unpack my stuff onto the shore and prepare for the climb up the canyon wall, using the Throngler to secure my things to my back.

Once Floofy is securely in position, I start the climb up.

At this point, climbing a few hundred feet vertically is no big deal, and I crest the top of the canyon in just under an hour.

When we reach the top, it's late afternoon, an eagle soars in circles above the woods, and deer bound away in response to a little boy with a massive backpack coming up from the cliff.

My dog jumps off my back and starts sniffing around as I walk into the woods. As night is falling, we come across a familiar stream. With this landmark orienting me, I pick up the place, gliding across the treetops, set on getting home before night falls.

We reach the little hill at sunset, warm lights are glowing in the windows, and smoke is gently wafting out of the chimney. The meadow is as green as always, and wildflowers gently sway in the breeze.

Floofy bounds ahead of me as I walk up the hill. His nose has picked up the scent of another human.

I open the door, and there is Uncle Rhoam, sitting alone at the kitchen table, with a plate of Spicy Meat and Seafood Fry and a book in front of him.

When he hears the sound of the door, the old king shoots to his feet. Turning his attention to me, he grins broadly and greets me, "Knock next time. You trying ta give me a heart attack?"

After the playful comment, Rhoam rushes over to the door, enveloping me in a massive bear hug that lifts me off the ground.

"Come in and eat; you better have some good stories to excuse you from being gone so long!"

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"And then the lynel woke up, so I had to jump off the bridge, but it's chill because I awakened wind mana and snagged this cool horn."

It's already past midnight when I finish my story. Rhoam and I are on our fifth cup of tea, a beverage the old man has really taken a liking to since I started making it.

Floofy has betrayed me and is sitting comfortably in the king's lap, being hand-fed meat from a bowl in Rhoam's arms.

We sit in silence for a bit, enjoying the warmth of the fire and each other's company before Rhoam speaks up.

"Arjon, I've told you before that the body that you interact with is my spirit inhabiting a construct feeling the abundant triforce in the sealed canyon. Well, I estimate that I only have about six months left to live before my spirit cannot hold on any longer. It's been two and a half years since we met, young one."

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise, I guess I've been training so hard that I never really kept track of time, but the thought that Rhoam will basically die in six months is sobering.

"Lighten up, my boy. I've still got a bit left to teach ya! Besides, I've been dead for a long time, I'm looking forward to passing on peacefully."

After a few more minutes and a game of chess, Uncle Rhoam retires to his bed, and I take the short walk to my lab.

I need to get some work done before I go to sleep tonight.

I dust off my workstations, then get the forge heated up. I need to get a lot of things done before the inevitable spar with Rhoam tomorrow.

First, I take off my gear, sewing up any tears in my clothing. Once the forge is rippling with heat, I melt down some ingots and pour the liquid metal into bullet molds, replenishing my empty bandolier.

Next, I unwind the threads that make up the Trongler, and replace any broken wires before resealing the mana-made water core that allows me to control the whip. I also sharpen the barbed spearhead that adorns the end of the weapon.

I disassemble and oil my revolver forging and replaceing any worn-down parts.

Taking the measurements of the black lynel's horn, I realize that it is much heavier than iron, but my strength has also grown, so the new weight is usable.

After much thought, I decide on a mahogony handle for the new saber and a plain metal hilt.

To finish my new weapon, I decide on a bear-leather grip and some simple engravings that I copied from my tattoos.

My new blade is leagues above my last, and when I test out an aqua slash, I realize that the monster part seems to boost the power of attack, another thing worth investigating once I'm out of this canyon.

This fine new blade needs a fitting name, and I have the perfect one: "SAMANTHA!" I shout, raising the saber above my head.

Now that I'm ready for tomorrow's training, I retire to my bed, and Floofy curls up at the end. I finally feel safe for the first time since the start of my journey.