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One minute, Four was talking to him. Nothing of any import, just chatter to pass the time and fill the silence. But then, those words became muddled. They were far away strings of gibberish, floating on the air as they wavered between soft and loud, clear and blurry. Sky’s face was hot suddenly, a heat that made his skin wet with sweat as it spread down his shoulders, into his chest. He felt trapped in his own body, as if he’d become an oven, and he was baking his own insides. And worse than the heat, there was a strange pain. Just behind his eyes, something like a sear before it turned into nothing at all . And that feeling worsened, drawing Sky further into it.
His toe caught the ground, his weight lurched one way. Sky fell to the dirt road in a sickly heap, silent save the audible thud of all of his weight coming down at once.
Four glanced over his shoulder, wondering if Sky had simply tripped again. Sky wasn’t clumsy, but he was terrible at paying attention to where he walked. Often, he found roots with his feet, spilling from one side of the road to the other. But now, he was a pile of white fabric.
“Sky!” Four cried. “Are you okay?”
Sky dragged his eyes open, stunned. Four had been talking to him— then what?
“Aw Hylia,” Four said, “did you trip? Are you hurt?”
The little smith rolled Sky onto his back. Sky grimaced, faced with the endless cerulean void over himself. His stomach turned. The sweat on his skin chilled him. Whatever lightheadedness had overtaken him was gone now.
“Sorry,” Sky managed.
Four shook his head, clearly worried. “What happened?”
“I think I fainted,” Sky admitted.
Four paused, startled. “ What?! ”
Sky nodded, pushing himself up. He slouched forward, bowing his head with a miserable groan. It wasn’t a question, he knew. He had simply passed out.
“Are you sick?” Four pressed. “Hurt?”
Sky shook his head, offering a meek smile. “I’m fine, really.”
“Well clearly not,” the smith snapped.
“I think I just need some water,” Sky sighed.
Four nodded, frowning tightly. Sky was usually good about drinking his water—better than Wind or Hyrule anyway. The smith grabbed Sky by the arm, dragging him to his feet. Sky burped, queasy as he staggered forward a step. He refused to puke, however. That would only send him into a panic.
He let out a long breath through puckered lips, moving slowly as Four guided him to the thick trunk of an old tree. Sky slid down against it, basking in the cool shade. It took the edge off his misery, bringing much needed clarity with it. Before Sky had a chance to really feel the warmth of the sun ebb from his face, the smith was forcing a waterskin into his hands.
Sky had no place to argue, so he uncapped it, taking gentle sips so as not to twist his stomach further. Four peered at him, scolding him with a look. It was out of worry, Sky knew, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was being babysat by a boy so much younger than himself.
“I’m fine,” Sky eased.
“You fainted,” Four replied crisply.
Sky grimaced. He only nodded in return.
“We’re not far from camp,” the smith said, eying the road. “We can rest until you’re ready, or I’m sure Twilight will come looking for us before long.”
Sky sighed, laying his head against the tree. “He’ll only worry.”
“I don’t care. We’re not moving until you’re ready to.”
Sky knew there was no room for argument. He only nodded again. Four was not the bossy type, but he was remarkably stubborn given his aptitude for teamwork. When Four took charge, it was best to just do as he wanted. He usually had a plan, anyway, one better thought through than Legend’s or Wild’s.
Satisfied that Sky wouldn’t try getting up, Four sat down across from him. He folded his arms, a strict look compelling Sky to drink more water. The chosen hero unclasped his cape, hoping to cool down a little more without the fabric over his shoulders. He was rewarded with a gentle breeze over the back of his neck.
Despite the circumstances, Sky decided to simply enjoy the day. It was peaceful, comfortable in the shade, and as he regained his senses, he was surrounded by birdsong. There were worse places to faint, he figured, and far worse places to recover from it.