She knew she'd been looking forward to seeing the world. Just on the way here, she'd seen the wide open fields and the winding Zora river. She had barely met anyone on the way, not until she approached the town and struck up a conversation with one other festival-goer. It had been pleasant enough – a Kokori who ended up hanging behind to await a friend who was running late with hand-carved figurines to sell.

However, as Ekra tilted her head back to look at the walls of the Kakariko Village, where the supposed Hero of Time festival was being held, she began wondering if it was too late to feign ignorance and slip back to the Lost Woods. She could see all the adults – her first thought was her shortage of Deku nuts which would make tricking all these people nearly impossible. Then was the realization of the sheer volume of people – probably more people, Hylians and Gorons and others, than there were trees in the forest. The moment she actually passed through the gates, she'd be hemmed in by them all. Singular persons or small groups, she had some idea of what to do. Entire crowds were new. She tugged her cloak a bit tighter around her body, hoping no one would take a closer look at her bark-like fingers. The cloak was long enough to conceal her legs, and the Keaton mask proved capable of allowing her to pass as a Hylian child, but she never had thought to grab gloves and by the time the whispers started, it was too late. Just, as she finally decided, it was too late to leave. She'd just have to suck it up.

The security was expected, but the cloak hid her satchel just as well as the rest of her, and she barely spent a minute at the gates before entering. The festival proved to be just as chaotic on the inside of the city gates – the people missed the small skull kid, pushing her around in their hurry to reach a stall before it sold out, to get food, to reunite with friends and family. One particularly quick Goron knocked her to the ground and left before she registered what happened; and, as always, she picked herself back up and dusted herself off. Ok, she had shown up and nothing was happening, so surely, the earlier doubt told her, it was safe to go back home. Nothing would happen at all. But why bring her in the first place? No, just needed to stick it out and, in the meantime, try to get a taste of things.

It took what felt like forever but soon the skull kid was navigating the crowds with significantly more ease, keeping collisions to a minimum. Some sellers had actually put their wares on top of the counters of their stalls. Those were easy to pick up and question.

“Is this what the Hero of Time looked like?”
“This is a Gah-roo-doh?”
“Why is everyone selling ocarinas?”

Some were polite, albeit condescending, answering her questions as though she were a very young child. Some snatched their merchandise back and either spat rude responses or told her to leave. One shot back with an implied insult as to the reason she needed the mask. None of it was surprising, she supposed. All sorts passed through the Lost Woods. The most shocking thing she saw was a stall collapse itself, vines pulling away before she could reach it, and either a Hylian or a Kokori fleeing. Ekra guessed they had an extremely successful day and had no further wares to sell. Not too far, though, was a blacksmith. The front of his store was bustling with people, and Ekra watched, unsure if she wanted to approach. Mostly, the problem would be getting close enough to ask questions and poke around, and the fact that in such close quarters, any tricks would be easily uncovered.

She made sure the Keaton mask was on straight and the cloak secure before approaching the back of the crowd. Maybe she could pull a different trick. She tugged on the back of one man's shirt, hiding her hand before the man turned around.

“Oh! Are you lost?”

“I'd like to get a look at one of the throwing knives. Could you get one back here, please?”

“You're a little young, aren't you?”

“Kokori. Please?”

“Oh, alright.” He had begun to turn when he stopped. “And how do I know that's true?”

“I'm 96. Please?” This was beginning to get frustrating.