-Majora-

While she ate the bread provided, Ganondorf took a good look at her. Her clothing was burnt but reminiscent of the middle-class. It naturally wasn't anything good like silk or of the high class, but it also wasn't simple rags expected of a slave.

He considered what to do with her. Was there someone in Majora he could bring her to? Who provided housing to a Dragmire? Likely he could bring her to the alpha and she would be taken care of, but he had an impulse to see to the matter personally. Was she a slave who heard of the Dragmire freedom offered and left of her own volition? Was she sent? From where did she come?

Ganondorf sighed and ran his hands over his face in aggravation. He had so many questions and didn't know which were important and pertinent.

"Something the matter?" The woman asked, suddenly twitchy at his movement.

"Yes and no," He answered. "I have so many questions, both for you and the chief. Questions pertaining to your situation. Questions pertaining to our clan and how the movement will be resolved. Where you came from, where are you going, and who is to house you if you are to stay. Things that are important matters but not dangerous matters, if you follow."

"I do, I am sorry, it seems I have burdened you somehow." The woman whispered sadly.

He clenched his fist. Her quietness and submission aggravated him, but he put the emotion away and decided it was a result of slavery. Nothing that was her fault. Ganondorf shrugged. "No burden that cannot be lifted. It just means I have to meet with some people and do something I hate being involved."

When she was done eating, Ganondorf inquired further. She didn't remember where she came from nor remembered where she was going nor remembered her name. All she remembered was pain, a pain and burning that seemed endless wherever it was. Her skittish nature angered him and her answers troubled him. When he had his questions answered so unsatisfactorily, he took her to the chief of Majora. Nabooru had taken on his home, as it was the house of the chief.

"Ganon!" Nabooru greeted him as he approached. Her wolf raised his head and bared his teeth as the Dragmire approached, and a couple of the Majora around eyed him. "Hush!" Nabooru snapped. "Ganon, neleed khugatsaa ng rs n baina. Sh tleg kherkhen irdeg ve?"

("Ganon, it has been a while. How comes the worship?")

Ganondorf grunted. "Etses t gsg lg i! Odoo khaana ch baikhg i! Gekhdee bi ireeg i yum baina. Bi t nees bolj irsen. Ter z vkh n Q-iin kheleer yaridag tul zaaval yariarai." Ganondorf stepped aside for Nabooru to see the other Dragmire.

("Endlessly! Nowhere! But that is not why I have come. I have come because of her. She speaks only the tongue of Qin, so please speak accordingly.")

"Bi Dragmire." Nabooru observed. She changed language. "This is earlier than I expected."

"I think she is separate from the caravan."

"Why would you say that?" Nabooru questioned. Ganondorf explained the Dragmire's situation as he knew it, and Nabooru nodded thoughtfully when he was done. "She has been through a lot." Nabooru put a hand on the Dragmire woman's head and pushed her down enough to look at her. She rummaged through her hair and patted her when she was done and assured the woman. "I don't see any recent wounds, bumps, or scars. A few old ones speaking of abuse, but you haven't suffered any head injuries."

"Then why does she not remember anything?" Ganondorf questioned.

"It sounds like what she has experienced is too much, simply." Nabooru replied. "You remember how you were, or rather, you don't."

Ganondorf nodded. Seeing the Dragmire woman questioning look, he explained, "I don't remember my past. Dragmire have an earned reputation for muteness in trauma or intense emotion. The problem is I don't remember my childhood because I was in the thralls of possession."

"Perhaps, but it could be a connection."

"You mean to say she was possessed?"

"No, but it could be there are multiple reasons why you don't remember your childhood. Both the possession and the intensity of emotion as being too much. It could just be that muteness is the first step and failing memory is a later step."

"Who is to say," Ganondorf figured. He turned to the Dragmire woman. "But it is at the very least an idea. Provided you were not possessed, we can have hope the memory will return." He returned to Nabooru. "As for housing "

Nabooru flinched. "Yeah "

"You mean that as if to say there is no housing for her." Ganondorf narrowed his brows. "What of the rest of my clan?"

"Ganon..."

"How much have I missed? What is happening?" Ganondorf stressed.

"There will be room enough when the Dragmire arrive."

"As if to say there isn't yet. What have we been doing? I know I have been away in worship but I expected the matter to be handled competitantly."

Nabooru sighed and looked on him with a hint of... pity. "Okay, okay. The outreach for families to take a Dragmire in as a guest has been... difficult. The construction of housing has been slow as the men... refuse."

Ganondorf narrowed his eyes angrily. He had an idea of why she would say this, but he needed to hear it. He clenched his jaw tightly. "And why would they refuse?"

"Among the workforce there are those who work, and those that don't. Those that don't refuse to because they reject your clan. Those that refuse say 'Why should we bring demon-worshippers here? Did they not cause us all to flee the plains? Did they not cause the deaths of many cla-'"

Ganondorf shot his fist to the side and impaled it firmly into the wooden wall. His breathes came out slow, heavy, controlled, almost steaming with rage. His red eyes burned as fire and his fiery hair glowed in the shadows. He did not say a word. His anger was undescribable. The woman watched him fearfully, warily, incase he snapped. Nabooru knew the degree of control he held over himself, but she also knew the bottomless rage he kept a lid on.

After a long moment, he said, "The Majora know to fear me, and to respect me! The Majora, having been given mercy by the Fae, have grown to share mercy as well when seen fit alongside the rage of war. It is not Majora who whispers this evil, is it?"

Nabooru answered, "A few Majora have been brought to agree with the whispering, but mostly it is the conquered who whisper it." Ganondorf closed his eyes and sighed. Nabooru continued, "The Majora have grown in your conquest, but this growth has its implications. The clans we have forced to cede to us have voices, and those voices do not speak to the same tune as the rest of us."

"Make them submit!"

Nabooru snapped, "You no longer lead! And even if I were to force the issue, to what degree shall force be rendered? Are we to be slave owners who force our own to work towards the freedom of other slaves? If you must know, I have already set in motion for the whispers to be resolved. Those that refuse to work will not be paid, and we are finding more to do the work. It will take a little longer than you and I would like, but there will be room for the Dragmire. What worries me is not the housing, but the people. That is the problem I forsee. They grumble now, but what of when the Dragmire arrive? Then who will lead the Dragmire? Who will inspire them? Who will speak for them as the other clans? When the Dragmire arrive we will have to sort through them and select one who will speak for them, but their clan leader will need to be one who can keep them safe."

The thoughts troubled Ganondorf. He shook his head weerily. "I detest this."

"The feeling is mutual." Nabooru smiled. "If you wish to have a voice in this, I will listen. But the best thing you can do is return to your home, give this woman-" Nabooru nodded towards the Dragmire woman, "an abode for a time, and we will sort this out."

Ganondorf breathed in and out slowly. His anger disipated and left him empty. There was nothing to be done for now. There was nothing he could do for now. "Fine. One final question. What of the hunting party to go to the north? I have not seen hunting parties so large since I was in the ring fighting monsters."

"That is a proper comparison." Nabooru nodded. "There was reports from our border that a monster was sighted in Qin near Tetsu. The hunting party is to scout the area and bring it down if there is one."

Ganondorf raised an eyebrow. He nodded and said, "Good luck. Do me a favor, let me know how it goes? I have not heard of monsters entering the plains."

"I will."

Ganondorf departed with the Dragmire woman and started the trek home. As he walked, he silently contemplated things. The appearance of a monster in Qin was unusual. Monsters had always been hunted and found in the mountains, as they hid from the large walls and speared armies of Qin. A monster can handle many men, but no monster could fight a thousand, ten thousand, and much less a hundred thousand and Qin had several hundred thousands. What would bring a monster from the mountains? AS territortial as they are, were they forced out and cast out to seek new territory?

He shook the thoughts away. There was no telling.

Ganondorf's new home was a small log cabin on the other side of the mountain just outside of Majora. It was isolated and distant from others. A clearing down the hill showed a large number of miniature stone piles, something that piqued the woman's curiosity, and in sight was a stream. Dead animals hung from the trees to be skinned and a pile of skins stacked high against the side of it. Smoke billowed out of the side and a good smell passed in the air.

"Looks like Malon is back from her hunting trip with her friends," Ganondorf commented as they neared. "We have already eaten a bit, but she will be ticked if we don't eat some of what she is preparing." He rolled his eyes but smiled in good nature. He looked to the woman who followed him. She was still infuriatingly timid. She was also dirty and bloody. "Before we enter, lets get you cleaned up. There is a stream there. Go and do what you can to clean yourself up. I will send Malon out with something you can wear."

The woman nodded and watched as he entered the hut with her head down. A small smile crossed her lips. The woods were quiet and peaceful and still. That was... nice. The man also short-tempered and had a powerful presence, but he was controlled and despite the aggression seemed to have a bit of a heart. He was concerned for the Dragmire clearly and was angered on behalf of others, not just himself.

She made her way to the stream. Amazingly, the water was warm. At first she stripped, but thought better of it. She didn't have other clothes, didn't know if Ganondorf did for her, and didn't want for him to stumble on her otherwise indecent. So she bathed as best she could, rubbing the dirt and blood out, and scrubbed her rags as best she could as well. She rubbed enough dirt out of her face and hair to darken the water around her, and she moved her Dragmire hair back behind her head. She sighed contently.

A crash drew her attention. She looked up to see a young woman standing before her on dry land, a pile of clothes fallen to her feet. The intruder's hair was as red as her own, but her skin was whiter than any of the Majora and wasn't dark skinned like Ganondorf and herself. Most of all, she was drawn to the intruder's eyes. They were wide, surprised, and most of all, familiar somehow.

"Mother?"

-Nearby-

Ganondorf Dragmire sniffed the air. Malon had learned to cook well, and his mouth salivated in expectation. A fresh kill with herbs was tasty. It wasn't as good as what he found in Qin, with its exotic spices from far and wide placed in markets, but it was an old favorite. Looking around, he momentarily thought to be greedy and taste it before it was done, but thought better of it and contented himself to waiting. Just as much as receiving it was an exploration of the senses, so also was the anticipation. Hunting is not about the kill, but the hunt and tracking and anticipation. He knew well what it was to wait.

He poured some hot water into a wooden cup with chopped leaves, sat down, and sighed contently. He was away from the hustle and bustle and noise of cities. Politics didn't enter his hut. War was not waged on his front door. It was quiet. It was still. The flame of the fireplace danced erotically before his eyes and its crackling and popping loosened his pent-up nerves. The fiery core in his heart fell to embers and its smoke blew out his nostrils. For a moment, a solitary moment, he found peace. He closed his eyes and raised the cup to-

A loud piercing scream punctured his ears like icepicks. The boiling water splashed up into his face. He stomped his feet, yelling in surprise and pain, broke a chair leg, and knocked the chair out from under him so that he fell on his face under the table.

He breathed in aggravation and blew out anger. In a single breath the burning core of his heart lit into flame. The yelling continued again briefly.

"MALON!" Ganondorf barked. He rose quickly, knocking chairs and the table off from ontop of him. He stomped towards the door, threw the door open, and marched out. "DIN DAMNIT GIRL! What the ****!?"

Nothing. No response. Instantly that set his nerves on edge. He was expecting to get a 'thats not me you dolt!' back, or something equally insulting. All he got was empty yelling and screaming. Had she been kidnapped? Was she hurt? He had sent her out to the creek to give some of her clothes to the Dragmire woman, so he headed that way.

"MALON!" Ganondorf barked. "Where are you!"

"Over here, you dunce!" Malon yelled back from nearby.

That was more like it. He exited the tree line and stopped. On one hand was Malon in the creek up to her waist looking at once angry and upset for a whole other reason at once. The clothes were left forgotten on the ground at Ganondorf's feet. On the other hand was the Dragmire woman on the other side of the creek staring at Malon like she was a living nightmare. On the other-other hand was Ganon, having no idea what the actual hell was going on. Malon wasn't being kidnapped so...

"Okay, what's happening?!" Ganondorf demanded. He looked squarely at Malon. "What's with all the yelling!?"

"You're the one yelling!"

"So are you!"

"Because of you!"

"Then who was screaming before us?!" Ganondorf asked, expasperated. Malon pointed at the frightened woman. Ganondorf looked between the two, still confused. He addressed the woman. "What the ****? Why you yelling?! Something bite you!?"

The woman didn't respond, but just stared at them like a frightened rabbit.

Malon yelled, "She took one look at me and started yelling!"

"What? You- Then why are you in the river?!"

"Because she looks like my mother!" Malon yelled. Ganondorf blinked in surprise. "So I approached her to get a better look at her and she fled!"

"Malon..." Ganondorf lowered his voice to normal. He descended the hill towards the creek. "You're mother was taken by a mask..."

"I know that. Doesn't mean I don't recognize her." Malon argued. "I know what you're thinking. She isn't just any Dragmire."

Ganondorf raised an eyebrow and look at the Dragmire woman. To a degree... he could see it. He didn't remember Malon's mother that well. He had only met her a few times. Yet the woman did look familiar now that she was cleaner. He entered the creek. It only reached up to his thighs. "Get out of the blasted creek, girl. You are going to get wet."

Slowly he made his way towards the Dragmire woman. Malon rebutted, "I'm already wet!"

"Well you will make yourself more wet! ("Thats not how it works!") Get out of the creek!" Ganon barked over his shoulder. He slowly approached the Dragmire woman. She flinched and cowered as his hand reached out, but he didn't do anything. He brushed her hair out of the way and got a good look at her.

"Well, I'll be damned..." Ganondorf murmured. "It's her..."

"You said it, not me!" Malon yelled.

"Get out of the damn creek!" Ganondorf barked over his shoulder.

Without warning he grabbed the woman and threw her over his shoulder. The woman started thrashing about and yelling without words. He turned and started to walk back through the creek.

Malon yelled, "Stop handling the woman that looks like my mother!"

"I'll do what I damn-well please!" Ganondorf replied. He pushed Malon forward with his free hand as he walked. "And get out of the creek!"

Malon stuck her tongue out at him and bolted away before he could flick her ear. Ganondorf rolled his eyes. The girl was exasperatingly stubborn. He had to lower himself to get into the doorway with the woman on his shoulder, but once he was inside, he dropped the woman onto Malon's bedding, grabbed the broken chair he had fallen with, and threw it out the door hard enough to shatter it, before slamming the door shut hard enough to splinter said door.

He breathed in, aggravated. Of course, the door had to splinter and crack.

"Okay..." He breathed out. "Now. Can we stop with the yelling and panicking and being loud?" He eyed the woman and Malon. Malon returned to the cooking pot as if nothing had happened and the Dragmire woman curled up in the corner staring at them. "Good. Now. Malon. What the ****?!"

"What?!"

"What is your mother doing outside of her mask?!"

"How am I supposed to know!? I lost that mask long time ago!"

Kuroko Dragmire stared and watched as the two bickered all through dinner.