Hopeful.

It’s something that he can’t explain, but which whispers to him in every breeze and every shadow. With the slow dragging of time, as the sands in the hourglass melt into one another and everything changes and remains the same, Sheik knows how the day will be, simply by standing still a full hour before the sun appears beyond horizon.

The wordless message might be about fights or friends, about his lover or mistakes, but Sheik is always grateful, in that silent, pensive way of his, to be able to read the signs each day. It doesn’t matter if he’ll read about Link falling pray to injury, or about another town being captured by Ganondorf’s forces. It’s not about what he reads, but the fact he can read it.

For he understands that, despite the hardships that will come their way, despite the trails they will have to face, each new day is the promise of a new chance to stop the reign of terror. There’s a constant in everything the sun and the sands and the sky tell Sheik every day, in that silent hour before dawn: hope.