Lakes are slimy. D:

Double entry to-day. Double, not really delayed, because yesterday we went to Aunt J.'s cabin at the lake (they all say the lake despite the fact that there are proverbially ten thousand of them) and did not return home 'till 'round (I don't know. I really don't know. Feeling random) ten. So there was no entry yesterday.
On the way to the lake, I drew Jindal and started to write something starring Mel. At the lake, I went innertubing (intertubing? it was a big round thing) and I believe I stayed in the tube only through sheer force of will. At one point Uncle D. intentionally made a very sharp turn to throw Z. and me off, and he only succeeded with Z. Ha! But I nearly fell out. Goodness the water was deep though. The thought of falling into water in the center of the lake, even with a life jacket on, terrified me. Hence the force of will.

To-day... what did I do in the morning? Comics, shower, Piece of Heart search, cleaned room, decided to deal with the unfortunate fact that that un-wise hero put the Master Sword back by bringing that obnoxious Skull Kid back into it, drew a card for my grandfather whose birthday party it was today, tried to avoid dealing with relatives (I'm sorry, but I'm not big with outer-family), etc. When they had gone, I took a walk and came back to find the final two Pieces of Heart, but then something really alarming happened. Fanadi is telling me that I can't reach the last P.o.H. Ridiculous! I have all items! I obtained it in Anachron! Where on earth... -mumbles-

So which do you want, the Mel thing or the revised opening to the TP fanfiction? Not that it matters asking you, since by the time you read this I have decided. In fact, by the time I wrote that I had decided. It was a very simple decision to make. You see, the new intro is already on the computer.
Spoilers, naturally.
--
Her hands trembling with eagerness, Midna delicately took the Sol and gazed into it, just as she had in the dreams she’d been having all week. Normally she didn’t really believe in dreams; however, normally she didn’t remember them either, and she remembered every last detail of these dreams, and they felt so real. Solid, almost.
And—she wanted them to be true.
Would it work? Midna held her breath in anticipation.
Just as she was about to turn away—while not as potent as the sunlight, Sol light still could be damaging if one spent too much time staring into it—when an image began to form inside the orb. Midna found herself gazing at the ruins of a once-graceful building, arches and columns and worn-away stone.
But where was…? Midna turned her head back and forth slightly, and obediently the scene shifted accordingly, allowing her to look around. He wasn’t there? But that didn’t make sense—this was his—
And then suddenly Midna recognized the place she was seeing. She groaned.
“He... he put it back!”
~
Anachron’s pleasant sleep was shattered by a scream.
Alarmed, he leapt out of bed, grabbed his sword and shield, and dashed outside. He gasped as he saw the source of the scream. It was Ilia—and she was surrounded by four of the Skull Kid’s puppets!
No time to wonder why they were here. “Ilia, duck!” Anachron shouted, and he flew at the puppets with a hasty jump strike. They halted, as if surprised, and then collapsed to the ground. Anachron sighed with relief, but he kept his sword out in case more should materialize. “Are you all right, Ilia?”
Ilia nodded, looking shaking. “Anachron, what were those things?” she asked in a small voice.
“Puppets,” Anachron replied, looking grimly at them. “They’re controlled by a Skull Kid from afar, and generally they come back until the Skull Kid is defeated. Maybe you should—”
Ilia gave a shuddering gasp. One of the puppets had gotten back up!
“Ilia, get inside my house!” Anachron commanded, leaping between her and the puppet. “I’ll take care of these!” He crouched, ready to strike the puppet if it tried to attack Ilia as she scrambled up his ladder. But it didn’t try to go after her—nor did it advance towards him. It just floated there, twitching-creaking-clicking at him expectantly.
There was something very strange going on. Usually the puppets came in groups of four, but this one’s companions had not risen… And it shouldn’t have risen in the first place… And why wasn’t it attacking him?
Experimentally, Anachron thrust his sword at the puppet—and it calmly floated backwards, away from the attack. He tried again with the same result. This didn’t make any sense. The puppets had never been intelligent enough to avoid his attacks, nor had he ever seen one retreat. Now it was cocking its head at him again, hovering near the path to the Ordon Woods as if waiting for him. Holding his sword at the ready, Anachron cautiously walked towards the puppet; it floated away from him at a pace that matched his own.
It wanted him to follow it.
He could ignore it, of course, but there was a chance that the Skull Kid would send more puppets after Ilia or someone else in the village. And it had never caused him real harm before, only irritation. So with a feeling of resignation, Anachron followed the puppet.