"Mater-pardon!"

And then the Baba's head goes flying in Caleb's direction while the stalk shrinks back into the earth. Zelda looks back at it and sighs.

"Farore's wind, I hope whatever growth spurt touched the garden dissipates soon," she muses, before brushing off her skirt and turning back to him. And to Frumpkin, as evidenced by the thoughtful frown she turns on the cat.

"Ah. Is this a spirit or a construct, if I may ask?"