Disclaimer: The Legend of Zelda, its characters and locations are all property of Nintendo. Any and all OCs and original locations belong to me unless specifically stated to belong to someone else.
The Hunt
Chapter 1
Link barely avoided stepping into an ankle-deep puddle as he followed his little guide deeper into the streets of Castle Town. Where the little boy expertly dodged and weaved his way through the heavy traffic and around tight corners, avoiding carriages and carts with barely any effort, Link felt like a bumbling buffoon, trampling on people's toes and knocking into the thousands of little stalls that seemed to line every single street. The pouring rain and approaching darkness did little to improve visibility, and he found himself wondering what kind of people felt the need to be outside on such a night.
Of course, he also had to ask that of himself.
His answer was easy, though: Money. The all-mighty rupee was a necessity he could no longer ignore, and, as he had been told on multiple occasions, the big city was the place to earn it. The stories made it sound like the streets were paved with the gems, though so far he had seen very little of it. None, to be exact. His pitiful pouch containing travelling funds was practically empty at this point, and he was getting desperate.
It had been an innocuous, seemingly random encounter on the street earlier that day. The little boy must have seen Link's crestfallen expression at being denied yet another position, despite there being a "Help wanted"-sign in the shop's window. Granted, he didn't have a lot of skills, and very of few of those he did have weren't somehow related to farming. He was fine with not being accepted as a clerk in a high-fashion store. After all, what did he know of fashion? The last straw, however, had been the various warehouses of the city refusing to take him on because he wouldn't be used to the "high precision" needed to move stock around. As if picking up and moving a crate from one spot to another was a complicated physics problem! After that, he had strongly considered returning home in shame.
But then the boy had approached him, given him a cheeky smile, and said: "Looking for work, mister?"
The conversation that followed was quick and not particularly detailed. The boy had simply asked him if he could lift heavy things, was not afraid of getting his hands dirty and, above all, had a strong stomach. Link had answered yes to all these questions, and that had been it. The boy had then told Link to meet him in the same square three hours before midnight, which he'd done. And then the chase had begun.
"Excuse me," Link said, feeling very much like a fish out of water, especially in the more tired, well-worn part of the city the boy was leading him through. Here, the citizens of Castle Town seemed rougher around the edges, less pleasant in demeanour, and most of all, mean. Already, someone had taken swipes at him twice for even daring to look at them. "How much further?"
"Almost there now, mister!" the boy replied, grinning at him. He looked to be about eight or nine years old, and was dressed in what could only be described as rags, covered in dirt and filth. He did, however, look quite well fed for someone Link assumed to live on the street. "Just a few more blocks!"
Four blocks, it turned out, and they had taken a turn into what was clearly one of the seedier parts of an already seedy part of town. Here, Link was propositioned every few steps by a variety of merchants of the night, offering him just about everything a person could ask for in terms of...pleasure and ways to achieve said pleasure. For a moment, Link thought the boy was taking the piss, and that he would be luring the newcomer into some sort of ambush. It would certainly have served Link right, for trusting a complete stranger.
But then the boy paused outside a dilapidated building, most of its windows broken and shattered. Only one window on the third floor had its glass intact, and from within shone a bright light. The boy gave Link a triumphant grin. "In here, mister," he said, opening the door with a flourish, as if he was opening the doors to some sort of palace as opposed to the ruined brick mess that looked ready to collapse at any minute. "The boss is waiting upstairs."
The entrance hall was covered in dust, cobwebs and filth, all dark wood and brass. It looked to have been some sort of bank, with barred counters and a large metal door behind them. A central staircase would lead them upstairs, it seemed.
"Who's your boss?" Link asked as he pulled off his hood, relieved to be out of the rain. It was a pity his boots had already filled with water—he would have appreciated having dry feet when meeting someone who, as the boy claimed, would be paying him an exorbitant amount of money by the end of the night.
"Can't say," the boy replied, shaking his head, spraying filthy water in every direction.
"He's not...a criminal, is he?" Link said, suddenly worried that he'd accepted an invitation to some sort of illegal activity. He was desperate for money, but not that desperate. His parents would kill him if they found out he earned the funds through less-than-honest means.
The boy looked offended at that, frowning. "'Course he isn't!" he exclaimed. "Do I look like someone who'd work for someone like that?!"
Link wanted to say yes, but shook his head instead. He'd at least hear this boss out before he decided to leave or not. This was his only lead, after all, and he'd be a fool to walk away from the sum involved before even finding out what he'd be doing for them.
"Good," the boy said with a huff. "Now come on, he hates waiting."
The boy lit an oil lamp that stood on a small table by the stairs, and began leading Link upwards. The wooden steps creaked loudly and threateningly, as if they were going to break beneath his feet. It was dark as pitch inside the building, and Link could practically feel the shadows creeping in from all directions. He'd never been afraid of the dark out in the country, but there was something oppressive about the darkness of this place—it was almost sinister...though he had a feeling it was simply his anxiety and worry seeping in and colouring his perception. It was just an old bank. What could possibly haunt such a mundane place?
"Password," another child's voice said from above as they reached the second landing and began ascending to the third floor.
"May the lens of truth show you the path to righteousness," the boy replied, not breaking his stride.
"You found someone then?"
The second child was a girl, about the same age as the boy. Her hair was a tangled mess of dark (or simply dirty) blonde tresses, and her clothing fared no better than the boy's. She, too, seemed unusually healthy for a street rat. Link had a feeling they were simply playing characters in some sort of bizarre play, presumably of this boss of theirs authorship.
"I did," the boy replied. "He looks strong, just like the boss wanted."
The girl nodded and turned to knock on the door she was evidently guarding. For a split-second, Link could see the handle of a dagger sticking out of her belt, but the dirty remains of her tunic quickly covered it. It was a complicated rhythm she rapped out on the ageing wood, but it was evidently correct seeing as someone on the inside said "Enter."
"The boss will see you now, mister," the girl said sweetly, opening the door and stepping aside. "Do hurry, he doesn't like being kept waiting."
Unnerved by the two children, Link did as he was told, quickly going through the open doorway. The door slammed shut behind him, and he could hear the fake street rats chattering excitedly on the other side.
Unlike the rest of the building, this room was comfortably warm and well lit. Oil-lamps aided the roaring fire in both heating and lighting up the office-like chamber. A wall-to-wall carpet of a clearly foreign, yet familiar-looking design covered the floor. He felt guilty for trampling on it with his muddy boots. Paintings lined the wall, most of them portraits of people Link had no idea who was, or historical events he'd never heard of.
"Come in," said the room's sole occupant. He was standing with his back to Link, fiddling with something on the low, wide table in front of the fire. "You're the one Eren told me about?"
Eren was presumably the boy. "I suppose I am," Link replied as he came a little closer, wishing to be as near the fire as possible. He was soaked to the bone and starting to shiver now that he wasn't forced to chase Eren.
"Name?" the man (or was he?) he assumed to be the boss asked.
"Link."
"No last name?"
"I'm not a noble or a bastard," Link replied.
"Where are you from, Link?"
"Ordon, a small—"
"Farming village south of here, close to the Lost Woods," the boss said, nodding to himself. "Yes, I've heard of it. What are you doing in Castle Town, Link?"
"That...is not really any of your business, begging your pardon," Link replied.
"Fair enough," the boss said. His hands never stopped moving, and Link could hear the sound of greased metal sliding against metal. He'd heard sounds like that before. It still made the bad memories appear to his mind's eye, no matter how much he tried to fight them down. "Though based on your readiness to follow Eren here despite how little information he provided on the job apart from the fee you would be paid for it...well, that's just it, isn't it? Money. You came to Castle Town to acquire as much of it as possible. Presumably because of the poor harvest this year?"
"Who are you?" Link said, narrowing his eyes.
The boss paused, wiping his hands on a soiled cloth before turning to face him. The lower half of his face was obscured by a cowl that crept up from his waistcoat, his head covered by an elegant tricorne hat. His eyes gave him away immediately, however, and suddenly the design of the carpet became instantly clear to Link.
"You're...a nomad," he breathed, surprised.
The boss nodded slowly. "Ye-es," he said, drawing out the word as he crossed his arms and leaned against the table. He was wearing dark dress pants, a white shirt and a black waistcoat. A long overcoat hung from a nearby chair; it looked quite well worn, unlike the rest of his outfit. He was slender, perhaps a little shorter than Link. His voice seemed young, and there were no wrinkles on what little skin Link could see. "It's funny how we're called nomads when, in fact, my people roamed these lands long before yours even arrived here...and we never even left in the first place, despite how much you've tried to make us." He narrowed his eyes, just like Link. "If we are to work together, I'd prefer it if you called me what I am: Sheikah."
Link blinked, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. He bowed his head, feeling like an idiot. "I didn't mean any offence, master Sheikah," he said. "I was simply surprised, and—"
"I take it I am the first Sheikah you've ever met," the boss finished. "Yes, I suppose few of my people have ever ventured near Ordon, much less visited the village itself." He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. If all goes well, we will never meet again after tonight, and you will return to your village a rich man. Does that sound agreeable?"
"It does, sir," Link replied, nodding.
"Good. Then, Eren has asked you...?"
"If I could lift heavy objects, if I had a strong stomach, and if I wasn't afraid of getting my hands dirty," Link recited. "Yes, yes, and no."
"Good," the Sheikah said, his red eyes flashing in the firelight. "Though it would appear my little assistant forgot to ask you the most important question of them all: Can you keep a secret?"
"A secret?" Link said. "What secret?"
The boss rolled his eyes. "I don't think I have to point out the clandestinity of your arrival here for you to understand that the job I am hiring you for requires secrecy...or do I?" Sighing, he looked Link up and down, taking in every detail. It made Link feel oddly vulnerable. "I cannot stress the importance of this: Whatever I tell you, whatever you see on this night...you must never tell another soul."
"If it's so secret," Link said, "why are you hiring random people off the street?"
"Because I am desperate," the boss willingly admitted. "This is a rather unexpected and, therefore, rushed job. I made sure to have Eren and Nikal keep a lookout for someone from out of town. Someone who, when finished, would have no need to stay, would immediately go home with their pockets full of rupees. Someone who felt no need to...flap their lips. Are you someone like that, Link? Will you be able to keep the details of this job under tight wraps?"
"If it's not illegal," Link answered. "I won't help you commit any crimes."
The Sheikah chuckled at that. "I can assure you, this job is far from illegal. On the contrary, it has been sanctioned by...the highest of authorities. So, can I count on your silence?"
Link hesitated. This was his last chance to back out. He had a feeling that, once the Sheikah had given him the details, he would not be allowed to leave before the job was done. "The money?" he asked.
"Do you require an advance?"
"Think of it as...proof that you're not trying to trick me."
The Sheikah nodded. "Of course. Here." He opened a drawer in the desk and withdrew a heavy pouch, throwing it to Link in a practiced, graceful move. "Half now, half upon completion. Should be more than enough to keep your village going for two or three years of consecutively poor harvests."
Link tipped a few of the precious gems into the palm of his hand, surprised at the clarity and weight of the gems. These weren't the sort of rupees that were used for trade in Ordon and the surrounding areas. True professionals had cut them, and that spoke volumes of whom this Sheikah was working for.
"These are..." Link trailed off.
"Cut by the finest jeweller in the city," the boss finished. "You will not find more precious stones in all of Hyrule. Of that I assure you. You will be given the rest when the job is done."
There was no question about it, and Link could already tell that, added up, the money for this job would keep Ordon fed and happy for quite longer than three years. He had no choice—he had to accept. "I'm in," he said.
"Good," the Sheikah said, turning back to his table, resuming his work. "Please, come closer. Have you any fighting experience?"
"I have."
"That isn't pub brawls."
"Plenty. I've been fighting off bandit attacks since I was fourteen."
"Ever killed someone?"
"Once. I had no choice, though, he was going to hurt—"
"I do not judge," the Sheikah said. "And, frankly, it is preferable that you have some experience with killing. The happy news is that we won't be fighting people on this job. Tell me, can you wield a sword?"
"I—"
"Or perhaps you prefer firearms? I have a few extra pistols I can lend you—"
"I don't like...powder," Link interrupted him.
The Sheikah must have sensed his tone, because he simply pointed to a chest in the corner of the room, close to the fire. "There is a pair of blades in that chest. Try swinging them for a bit. Also, there are clothes. I suggest you change."
"What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?" Link asked as he withdrew the first blade from the chest. Its design was simple, but the weapon was well made. The balance was quite good, but the blade itself was far heavier than it should have been for something of its size. The metal gleamed in the firelight. "And why is this sword so heavy?"
"You're soaked from the rain," the Sheikah said matter-of-factly. "I imagine you want to get warm and dry before we head out again. Not to mention they'll provide you with more protection than that tunic, and as for the sword...well, it's heavy because it's made of silver. Makes the blade soft, so you'll have to make sure your aim is true, and your strikes count."
Link studied the sword, watching the Sheikah out of the corner of his eye. A silver sword? What in the world would he need that for? "I thought you said we weren't fighting anyone?"
"I said we weren't fighting people," the Sheikah said as he finished loading the last pistol on the table. "We are, however, going to do a little hunting."
"Hunting? Hunting what?"
"You'll see."
That was all the Sheikah was going to say about the matter, it seemed, so Link busied himself with changing into the outfit left for him in the chest. The underclothes seemed rather run-of-the-mill, a simple white shirt and black trousers with braces. The overclothes, however, was not something that would pass unnoticed on the street. A thick, leather overcoat that stopped just above his boots, with small metal plates stitched onto it in strategic places. The collar went so high as to cover his nose, much like the Sheikah's cowl. There was also a hat that, when worn, only left a narrow strip through which he could see. Leather gloves completed the outfit.
"It fits you?" the Sheikah asked, looking him up and down once more. Despite the multiple, thick layers of clothing, Link still felt vulnerable under that gaze. It was no wonder the stories always said that a Sheikah could see one's very soul...and judge it.
"It does," Link said, moving around for a bit to get a feel for the outfit. It was lighter than expected, and he maintained a full range of motion, which was a surprise considering the material. "Why the collar, though?"
"Things might get a bit...messy," the Sheikah said, inclining his head slightly. "Let's leave it at that."
"Hm." Link grunted, and picked up the second blade, which was a normal steel one. Slightly shorter and thinner than the silver sword, he found himself more comfortable with its weight and feel. "This is a good sword," he said.
"It will probably not be necessary, but it never hurts to carry proper steel on these streets."
"So what are we hunting?"
"Do you know what a lycanthrope is, Link?"
He'd heard that word before, but he was unsure of its definition. The older men and women in the tavern at Ordon tended to go quiet whenever they heard it, however, so he assumed it could only be something bad. "Not as such," he admitted. "I know they're bad, though."
The Sheikah paused. He'd put his pistols into various holsters on his person, and was in the process of adding several small knives and daggers to hidden pockets. Link wondered just how many weapons he would be carrying. "They're only as bad as they choose to be," he said, picking up a long, curved blade, which he sheathed on his back. "Though sometimes they cannot help it."
"And we're hunting a bad one tonight?"
"Indeed." The Sheikah turned to him, regarding him closely. "You seem rather unconcerned with how little information I am giving you...and the fact that I am arming you."
"You're not paying me to ask questions," Link said with a shrug. "As long as we're not murdering someone..."
"I see...well, that is a reasonable position."
"Did you want me to be suspicious?"
"No, it is just very rare that someone would readily agree to work with a Sheikah without taking...precautions."
Link knew exactly what he was talking about. There were signs that could be made, symbols to carve into doorways and such, which supposedly kept the Sheikah away, warding you against their "evil" influence. Link had never met a Sheikah before, and while he felt unnerved by the very intense looks he kept receiving from the other man, he did not feel the need to ward himself either. Besides, as always, he needed the money. He couldn't take the chance on insulting his employer.
"What good is a gesture against a pistol?" Link answered, gesturing towards the one hanging on the Sheikah's right hip.
"Hmph, good point. This certainly bodes well for our cooperation."
They spent the next few minutes checking their equipment for the last time. The Sheikah managed to convince Link to take at least one pistol, though Link had a feeling it would remain in its holster behind his back. Just knowing it was back there was enough to make him feel on edge. However, it was apparently just meant as a backup, something to fall back on in case the two swords on his back weren't enough. Then they checked each other's outfits, which felt a bit odd...
"It is best to expose as little skin as possible, just in case," the Sheikah informed Link as he tugged on the straps and buckles of his overcoat, ensuring the metal plates were fastened properly. "That, and hide our identities. It is a thankless job we will be performing tonight."
"People know about it?"
"Some do, and while most of the citizens of this city will be in their beds about now, there will always be vagrants. They tend to have loose lips. If my sources are correct, this particular incident has so far remained hidden from the public eye, but it is only a matter of time before it makes its presence known. I would prefer to get ahead of it."
They left the office a minute later, and the children immediately stood to attention.
"Boss," Nikal said, studying them both. "Clothes suit him."
"That will be all for tonight," the Sheikah said. "Go home and get some sleep."
"Got it, boss," Eren said. They left together, shoving and laughing at each other. Link gave the Sheikah a questioning glance (which was mostly hidden by his collar and hat), to which he simply shrugged.
"In my position, I need eyes at every level of society," he said as they descended the stairs. "I pay them well. The clothes and such was their idea, and I have to admit it's working. No one pays attention to filthy street children."
"I see..."
"And I forbid them from putting themselves at unnecessary risk."
"If you say so."
The Sheikah looked at him. "You do not approve?"
"I do of the paying them well bit," Link said. "The rest, not so much. What if I weren't...who I am? What if I'd tried to hurt Eren when he led me to you?"
To Link's surprise, the Sheikah chuckled at that. "Believe me when I say that Eren would never have tried to hire someone like that. And if you'd tried something, he'd leave you for dead in the nearest alley, your gut opened and displayed for all the world to see. The boy is wicked fast with that knife of his. Nikal is much the same, though her patience is quite shorter than his."
They stepped out into the rain, and Link was instantly glad of the coat, which the water simply slid off of.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"Not far. Further into the slums."
"Hey?"
"Yes?"
"What's your name?"
"...Sheik."
"Sheik the Sheikah?"
"Is there a problem?"
"Not at all."
"...good."
Link had been to Castle Town several times before. He'd accompany his father into the city to purchase things that could not be found in Ordon or the surrounding villages, as well as sell some of their wares. However, their visits had always been confined to the mercantile part of Castle Town, where the buildings were well maintained, the streets cobbled and orderly. People were mostly polite there, cheerful and happy.
This was not true for the old part of the city, the part that had never truly been brought into the current times. Here, the buildings were dilapidated and falling apart, the streets little more than muddy fields, and the people...well, the few they ran into had very little to say (save for a few choice words about Sheik's ancestry, which he seemingly took in stride), nor were they particularly helpful. One even took a swing at them, but he was far too drunk to remain standing and plopped facedown into the mud. Link rolled him over to ensure he could breathe, and quickly caught back up with Sheik.
"They don't seem to like us very much," Link muttered.
"They hate me on pure principle," Sheik said with a shrug. "You, they hate because of the outfit. They know what you are."
"And that is? A country bumpkin?"
"A hunter."
"Hunter?"
"It is a long and complicated story. I might tell you later, if you're still alive."
Suddenly, the idea to work for Sheik didn't seem like such a good one. He was in too deep now, though, and he'd given his word. Link was many things, but he never went back on his words. So he simply steeled himself and followed the Sheikah further into the crumbling labyrinth of ancient stone and wood buildings. They walked for at least an hour, and the further they went the worse the surroundings became. They were getting close to the outer walls, the parts that were beginning to crumble into the marshland to the east of the city. There were no more people to be seen—they were either taking shelter in their homes, or this part of the city was simply abandoned.
He was so caught up in watching the surroundings that he nearly ran into Sheik when he simply stopped.
"There," the Sheikah said, pointing at a partially collapsed wooden building. Judging by the size and layout, it might have once housed a large stable. The west wing was a pile of rubble, but the rest of the building seemed intact save for the warped and worm-eaten wood. "Our quarry is in there."
"How do you know?"
"The smell."
How Sheik could smell anything through his cowl, Link didn't know, but he did not ask either. There was no telling how strong a Sheikah's senses were. All Link could smell was piss, shit, and rot.
"Final check," Sheik continued, patting his weapons and ensuring the powder in his pistols hadn't gotten wet. "And your final chance to leave."
Link glared at him. "I've taken your money. I'm staying."
"Good to hear."
They stood just beneath an awning, and Sheik lit a small, spherical oil lamp and hung it on his belt.
"I would rather not trip and split my skull on the floor," he explained. "Stay close to me for now."
"So this...lycanthrope," Link said as they slowly stepped inside the main chamber of the stable—a cavernous room filled with dozens of dozens of booths made to hold at least two horses each. The driving rain rattled on the roof, turning into a deafening racket. "Is it dangerous?"
"Very," Sheik said. "It has already killed five people. I've been able to contain the news so far, but sooner or later it will move into a more populated part of the city, and there is no telling how many will die before we can put it down. Had I more time, I would have hired a larger, more experienced group, but..."
"You didn't, so I'm it."
"Yes, but you seem capable of swinging a sword, at least, and that is all I need, really."
"So I'm bait?"
"A distraction," Sheik said, shaking his head. "Something to draw the creature's attention while I do most of the work."
"That...is not comforting."
"Wasn't meant to be."
Link made to reply, but then there was a sound. The sound of something scraping against the stone floor, like nails on a chalkboard, and a low, rumbling growl that set Link felt in the pit of his stomach, filled the stable, drowning out the sound of the rain against the roof. Something moved in the darkness...and then it was gone. Sheik drew the first pistol, and Link followed suit with the silver sword.
"What exactly is a lycanthrope?" Link hissed.
"It depends on your perspective," Sheik whispered back. "Some say they are wolves, others that they are men...but in reality, they are both. An unholy mix of the two, cursed and deformed, and filled with an all-consuming need to kill."
"You said they are only as bad as they choose to be."
"Some are able to control themselves, others aren't," the Sheikah said, as if that explained anything. "It all depends on their strength of will."
"Where are they from?"
"They can be found in most parts of the world—it is a sickness, a disease. No one knows whence it came, but it has plagued the world for centuries, or even millennia."
Link paused, hearing movement to his left. "Then how come this is the first I've ever heard of it outside of rumours in a tavern?"
Sheik moved so that they were standing side-by-side, his gun aimed into the darkness. "We've tried to keep the condition's existence hidden. The world is scary enough as it is—what good will adding yet another thing to fear do? Luckily, they rarely venture into heavily populated areas, so they are relatively easy to contain."
"Except this one," Link muttered.
"Except this one," Sheik agreed.
As if on cue, the creature leapt from the darkness. To Link, it appeared as nothing but a grey blur and a whirlwind of teeth and claws. Its eyes glowed a pale blue, meeting Link's for a moment in which he saw nothing but malignant hatred and bestial savagery. And then the world turned upside down as he was flung through the air. Something raked at his back, but the tough leather of his coat held firm. The breath was knocked out of him when he came to an abrupt, yet oddly soft stop. He'd landed in a pile of old hay.
"Urgh..."
His vision swam a little, but he could see the vague outline of the creature in the light of Sheik's lantern, which was moving quickly and gracefully as the Sheikah dodged the lycanthrope's swipes and bites. There was a flash, and a deafening roar, and the creature roared, jumping backwards. The smell of gunpowder filled the room, overpowering the smell of decaying flesh that surely came from the creature.
"Get up and fight!" Sheik shouted, tossing his gun aside and drawing his sword with his right hand.
He climbed to his feet and adjusted his grip on the silver sword, which he'd never let go of. For the first time, he got a good look at the beast.
He understood why people thought it was a wolf—the head certainly looked like that of a wolf...but the fur was all mangy and patchy, the skin beneath covered in welts and scars and bloody cuts. But that was where the resemblance also ended. Its arms and legs were human-like, but far too long and gangly, covered in leaking sores. Each arm terminated in large hands with fingers longer than Link's forearm, and razor-sharp claws easily capable of disembowelling a man dotted the end of each. It moved nothing like a wolf either—it almost seemed clumsy, as if the human-like limbs confused it...but it was more than willing to ignore that in favour of pouncing on the closest target...which was Link at the moment.
He was barely able to move out of the creature's way and aimed a clumsy swing at it with the heavy silver sword, which it easily dodged, breathing out in a staccato pattern that reminded him of laughter, as if the creature was mocking him for his bad aim. Gritting his teeth, Link attacked again, able to control where his weapon ended up now that he'd gotten more used to the weight.
Another shot rang out in the dark stable, and the creature howled as its side erupted with blood. It turned its misshapen to regard Sheik, and made to pounce, but then Link's blade cut into its back.
The creature recoiled with a hiss, a small wisp of smoke rising from the cut made by the sword. Link's eyes widened. Was that what silver did? Burn the unholy creature?
Sheik joined the fray then, throwing one of the small daggers into the creature's shin and swiping at it with his sword. "Keep it on its toes, don't let it recover!"
Link did so, going on the offensive and attacking in tandem with Sheik. They quickly found a rhythm, and the beast was forced backwards into a corner. It growled and roared, but was unable to avoid the weaving, pointy swords that kept raking over its skin, opening wound after wound...until it tried to leap high, hoping to attack from above. Desperation, or fear perhaps, drove it now...and that was why the jump was so badly calculated (if it was even capable of calculating anything at all)...and why it suddenly found itself impaled through its distended gut on a silver blade, which burned like a white-hot brand, its entire shape desperately trying to get itself off, claws raking wildly through the air in every direction.
Link gasped when he felt those very claws catching on his coat...and cutting through. Fire erupted in his side, and he threw himself backwards, trying to get out the whirlwind's way.
"Enough!" Sheik shouted, bringing his curved blade down on the creature's neck. It twisted aside, so it only opened a vein...but it was not enough to immediately calm the wolf-beast down. It sank to its knees, clutching at the gushing wound in an oddly human-like pose. And now Link saw why some would believe it to be a man...
"Link, are you all right?"
"Yeah, I think so," Link answered, touching his side and paling when his hand came away slick with blood.
"Good." Sheik wasted no time in bringing his sword down once more, and this time the creature's head came off, neck sheared clean through. The beast's roar was cut off immediately, its body collapsing in a pathetic heap, twitching. "We were lucky," Sheik said, panting. "It was sick...weak with hunger. How on earth it managed to kill so many people without getting caught is..."
"Sheik!"
It happened in the space of two heartbeats. There was movement in the darkness behind Sheik, and it was only thanks to the lantern, which had come off his belt and was lying on the ground in a pile of hay, that Link spotted it. A second pair of glowing eyes, and a mouth filled with jagged teeth opening, a hiss escaping as the second beast made its move. Link couldn't move fast enough, lying on the floor as he was, to draw his steel sword and attack...but his hand didn't go for the sword handle. It went for the pistol in his belt. He drew, aimed, and fired. The ball slammed into the creature's head mid-air, and it crumpled, crashing to the floor with nary a sound. Sheik jumped, for a moment believing the shot was meant for him, but then the wolf landed at his feet, which had him stumbling backwards and nearly tripping over the limbs of the first one.
"Goddesses!" he exclaimed.
Their panting breaths, along with the driving rain outside, was all that could be heard for several minutes as both hunters tried to make sense of what had just happened. Sheik was the first to recover, crouching down by Link's side. Link's fingers were gripping the pistol so tightly he wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to let it go, but Sheik gently pried it from him, setting it down on the floor.
"For someone who's clearly not fond of firearms," Sheik said, "you've got one hell of an aim." He glanced back at the second beast, which looked healthier and stronger than the first one. "Right through the eye and into the brain. Difficult shot to make with a stationary target. With one flying through the air...nearly impossible. I owe you my life—thank you."
"Wasn't...really thinking," Link admitted hesitatingly. "I just...did it."
"Good reflexes, then, and I am still alive because of them." He pulled his hat off, revealing his blonde, shoulder-length tresses, and yanked down his cowl, revealing a clean-shaven, youthful face. Link was surprised to see that the Sheikah was so young, probably near his own age. And...utterly handsome. Sheik grinned widely, which made his face practically glow. "Thank you, Link. Really." He then glanced down, hissing at the blood that coated Link's side. "We'll have to treat that as soon as possible. Where are you staying?"
"At an inn near the water gate," Link said, groaning when he tried to move. Sheik helped him up, and he was surprised at how unsteady he was on his feet. "The Drum, or something like that."
"I'm familiar with it. Let's go." Link was surprised at how easily the other boy managed to steady him as they walked, lithe as he was. They only paused so Sheik could use his broken lantern to light a pile of hay close to the dead beasts' on fire. "We always burn our prey, as a precaution. Removes evidence."
"And limits the spread?"
"Hopefully."
"Here, let me—"
"I can do it myself, you know."
"True, but you saved my life, and this is easier."
Link tried his best to relax as Sheik helped him undress, mindful of the wounds in his side. The beast's claws hadn't gone as deep as he feared, but the scratches still bled freely. Sheik dabbed at them with clean cloth he'd procured from the innkeeper, trying to get a good look at the damage. Link couldn't help but once again feel vulnerable as Sheik examined him, his gaze no less intense than before. It didn't help that, upon pulling down his cowl, Sheik had revealed himself to be one of the most attractive men Link had ever had the good fortune to meet. He just hoped it wouldn't cause a...situation.
It was going to be the festival all over again, and he wasn't sure if he'd try as hard to stop himself this time.
"Well, it doesn't look too bad, actually," Sheik said, throwing the bloody cloth aside and fetching the small bottle of alcohol he'd, once again, gotten from the innkeeper. "We'll have to disinfect, though. Goddesses know what kind of filth those things are carrying around. Plus, we don't know exactly what causes lycanthropy in the first place, so...better safe than sorry, right?"
Link gave him a look, shivering slightly in his half-naked state. The room was cold, and the fire Sheik had lit upon their arrival had yet to start heating the stone. "You're not exactly filling me with confidence, you know."
Sheik grinned slightly, wetting another piece of clean cloth with the alcohol. "You're handling things quite well, actually. Country bumpkin one moment, hunter of beasts the next. A Sheikah's saviour...I think a minor plague scare is well within your limits at this point. If it helps, I am...ninety-nine per cent certain the plague isn't transmitted this way."
"What makes you so certain?"
Sheik paused, and carefully put the cloth and alcohol down. He unbuttoned his waistcoat and lifted his shirt slightly, revealing a jagged scar that could only have been left behind by claws. "I've been on the receiving end of such things before," he told Link, smiling. "I'm still quite healthy, and my hair grows at its usual rate. No, I'm fairly certain it's transmitted in some other way. Perhaps in water?" He shrugged. "Research is still being done on it."
"By who?"
Sheik clicked his tongue. "Ah, ah, ah, I have to keep some secrets. You're not one of us, after all."
Link was almost disappointed by that statement, which surprised even him. Even though he was no lover of violence or killing, fighting those wolf-men had filled him with more excitement than he'd ever felt in his entire life. He wasn't sure if it was because of the sheer insanity of what he'd been doing that night, or if it was because of the...the rather unique camaraderie he felt with Sheik. Or perhaps it was all because of hindsight, now that he'd seen Sheik's face, and gotten to know him a little better, and...wanting to be near him.
Fuck, this really was the festival all over again.
"How does one join the hunters, then?"
Sheik blinked, clearly not expecting that question. "Well, by being born into a Sheikah clan."
"...oh..." That was definitely disappointing.
"Though..."
His mood rose a little.
"...from time to time, we employ certain...contractors. Proven men and women who have shown themselves more than capable of handling the job." He started cleaning the wound, which had Link's side burning from the strong disinfectant. "In this part of the world, it's rather rare, but...well, I suppose tonight was an exception." He looked up at Link with a calculating expression. "But it would mean having to leave your old life behind. It's a commitment...and, as you saw earlier tonight, dangerous. Lycanthropes are the most common beasts we hunt. There are far more dangerous ones out there. You might have had beginner's luck, and the next hunt might be your last. Is that a risk you're willing to take?"
When explained to him like that, the life did not seem particularly glamorous...but one look at Sheik was enough to convince him it was worth it. That probably wasn't a good thing, being willing to risk his life just to be near someone he fancied, someone he'd met just a few hours ago, someone who might not fancy him back...and yet...
His parents would be outraged, but the good thing about having so many cousins was that they wouldn't be missing his hands at the farm, and given the money he'd earned tonight, maybe they wouldn't be too outraged at losing him to the Sheikah...
Eugh, his mind was reeling.
"But that is not a decision to make lightly, or hastily," Sheik said, not at all aware of the thoughts zooming around in Link's head. "I suggest sleeping on it, perhaps even going home and giving it a few weeks, or months... If you're still interested, you know where to find me." He inspected his handiwork. "No stitches will be necessary, but you'll have to clean and re-bandage the wound at least twice a day."
He gently bandaged Link's wound and helped him re-dress, discarding the filthy shirt for a clean one from Link's pack by the bed. He then put his bloodstained coat back on, replacing his cowl (much to Link's disappointment) and weapons. Link looked at the silver and steel swords leaning against the wall. Sheik followed his gaze.
"Keep them," he said. "Even if you do not decide to join us, I'm certain they will come in handy for bandit attacks. Well, perhaps not the silver one, but at least you'll know what situation it might be useful in." He shook his head when Link tried to hand him back the spent pistol. "Keep that as well. Regardless of your feelings about gunpowder, it is a powerful tool of intimidation. You don't even have to load it for it to be frightening."
Link tossed the spent gun onto the bed, giving it a glare. True, it had definitely been a lifesaver that night, but...he still hated the damn thing.
"You're leaving?" he asked.
"I have to report in about our success," Sheik said, nodding. "There are strict procedures to follow. Even this," he said, gesturing to Link's side and the room in general, "is a deviation from the schedule I usually follow."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"Don't apologise." The corners of Sheik's eyes crinkled as he smiled under his cowl. "You saved my life. Sheikah honour supersedes procedure."
"So you only did this out of obligation to your honour?" Link grinned. "I'm disappointed."
"My honour," Sheik said, nodding. "And...well..." He looked like he was about to say something, but seemed to change his mind halfway through. "Gratitude. To a new friend."
Link held out his hand, and Sheik shook it tentatively. "Friends, then. I'm sure the world has seen stranger things."
"True."
And then Sheik was gone, leaving Link with a great deal to think about. He went to the window, which overlooked the street by the inn's entrance. He watched Sheik emerge from the inn, pause, look up at the window (because of course he'd be observant enough to note which window belonged to Link's room), and give him a friendly wave. Two small shadows detached themselves from the closest alley and joined the Sheikah as he walked away in the rain, presumably being assaulted by questions from Eren and Nikal.
"Friends," he murmured. "And...maybe something more?"
Assuming he'd be allowed to join, of course.
He hoped so. Farming just...wasn't for him anymore.
Inspired by Bloodborne, which is a great game, people. You should play it.
I might expand on this, and I might not.