They arrive at Kakariko on the coattails of winter, just as the plum blossoms have started to bloom.

Paya has spent the last two days cleaning the house in a panic. Dusted the rafters, washed the floors and polished the balustrades, scrubbed down the wooden decking and stairs until her fingers began to prune. Her robes are freshly pressed, hair combed and neatly styled, perfume daubed on her wrists and neck and just behind her ears. Impa arches an eyebrow when Paya kneels at her feet, requesting that her face be painted.

“You normally do this yourself,” she says, even as she obligingly dips her fingers in the small wooden bowl Paya presented her. “Are our visitors really worth the extra fuss?”

Paya flushes almost as red as the paint, but resolutely keeps her chin tilted to receive her grandmother’s attentions. “I want it perfect,” she murmurs, her eyes slipping closed as the tip of one digit glides expertly across her forehead; despite her age, Grandmother’s hands have never lost their steadiness. “It’s been nearly a year.”

🌸chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four