There was an eerie silence in the garage as the boy slid his hand over the brown bike, his eyes closed and his face set in an expression that was happy, sad and something else the young red headed mechanic couldnÆt quite put her finger on.
The bike itself was old, a relic of years gone by that her uncleÆs had found buried in brush and vines out near the old forests and brought to the shop and repaired. Mal always wondered why they bothered polishing it and tuning it but never upgrading the systems or anything. Now, watching this blond haired boy turn to her and smile she knew, sort of.
ôIts pass locked, and sorry but we donÆt know what the code is or how to bypass it. Are you sure you want this one? We have faster bikes available.ö
The boy shook his head and flipped the key pad open. For the briefest of moments he could swear he heard the sound of a horse neighing, like it was greeting an old friend. Like all the times before he closed his eyes and just listened, not to the sounds of the cukooÆs crowing or the hum of the power generator as it lit up the small room but to that tiny voice, so familiar yet so distant that told him to just listen and he would know.
Like a maestro sitting at the piano his fingers began to play atop the key pad and a song long forgotten rose from the bike. A song that triggered not one but several memories; Riding across great fields always towards some great shadow, battling monsters that existed now only in myths and legends, and a face.
Yes a face, her face innocent and pure scared yet determined. A warrior in the body of a princess, his purpose and reason for being.
Zelda.
The bike hummed to life, itÆs engine starting up and lights flashing on. Yyou remember as well donÆt you?Æ the boy thought, æwill you come with me, one last time?Æ