Classes were over, had been over for some time. Nabooru had been somewhere between sleep and nonchalance, and the line between the two was becoming blurred, which left her in some odd position where she walked at a remarkably slow pace. Arms loosely at her sides, and a strange irritation that was resting in the back of her head, most likely to do with Robotnik, who seemed to be the never-ending plague of her existence.

As she looked around from the exit of the class hall, she found herself pausing, momentarily missing the desert, and remembering that it was important to keep an eye on Ganondorf. He needed it, after all, that push in the right direction. Well, shove, more or less.