If there's one thing I love about fanfiction, it's that you can give anything a good backstory. And that's what I love to do best. I love taking the littlest things from books and games, and giving them a background, and that's what I'm about to do now. If you've ever played Ocarina of Time until the Forest Temple, you may or may not remember the first enemies you face there. If you don't, just for the record, it's two Wolfoses.
Well, as I said before, everything deserves a backstory.
Disclaimer: I do not own Zelda.
Setting: slightly before Ocarina of Time to right in the middle of it.
Warning: This chapter contains blood, and...er, childbirth. How else would you get Wolfos pups? Anyways, if blow-by-blow descriptions of new life entering the world gross you out, kindly scroll down to the bottom of the page. I'll recap in much less vivid detail.
Blood ran down the swollen sides of the she-Wolfos in bright, crimson streaks. Her yellow eyes narrowed as a low, threatening rumble built up within her deep chest. Dark lips pulled away to reveal the gleaming white teeth hidden underneath. The thick fur on her shoulders rose stiffly as she tried to makes herself appear bigger than she truly was to intimidate her foe. She snapped and snarled loudly.
The beast standing before her was a strange creature, like none she had ever seen in her life. Its scent was dark and somewhat akin to rotting vegetation; the Wolfos had caught traces of it occasionally in her runs through the Forest, but had never seen the beast that bore it. Its face was round and pudgy, almost cublike, but its red eyes glowed with malice. The armor on its shoulders was worn and breaking. The Wolfos growled fiercely and made a move to snap at its muscular arms.
As she snarled, it lashed out at her again with the sharpened stick that was the cause of her numerous wounds. The Wolfos dodged nimbly and leaped around to its side, swaying on her paws as she landed. She whirled around, letting loose a harsh, grating bark of anger to hide her fear. The beast answered her cry with a loud grunt of its own. It lunged again, and this time the sharp-stick buried itself between her shoulderblades. The Wolfos's tail dropped between her legs, and she could not clamp down on a yelp of fear and pain, nor could she turn it into a roar of aggression. The dark-smelling beast reached for its sharp-stick, and the Wolfos's eyes flew open wide. She knew that if she stayed in the grove with the beast, she would die there. A stirring sensation in her belly made the decision for her.
She turned around and ran as fast as she could.
Her massive, clawed paws drummed the earth as the she-Wolfos ran for her life, and for the life she sheltered within her swollen flanks. Blood showered out behind her as the sharp-stick in her back wobbled and bobbed. The crimson drops spattered across the leaves and ran down in eerie, bloody fingers. Her breath came in ragged, hoarse gasps, tearing across her dry throat like the breaking of bones. She ran with the speed of desperation, her ears pressed flat to her skull, her tail tucked up tightly along the curve of her belly. Her heart throbbed against her ribs in a rapid, frantic dance.
The setting sun painted the ground with vivid spots of orange and red light. Trees blurred together into meaningless shadows that arched and leaped over the wounded Wolfos. She ran in panic towards the bleeding, dying sunset, feeling lost, alone, and very afraid.
Rosy red light pooled in warm lakes across the ground in a small clearing. At one end, the glade opened back out into the woods through a narrow, tree-lined tunnel. At the other end, a broken staircase led up into the mysterious, dark depths of an ancient temple. The crumbling stone seemed to encourage curiosity with warm gray arms and deter exploration all at once. One of the fallen blocks of stone lay just to the side of the old stairway, an ancient stair that had landed on its end. Perched atop it was a small, barefoot girl.
She was small and lean, with dark green hair and a small spray of freckles across her rounded nose. She wore a long-sleeved, green turtleneck shirt, with a soft green tunic overtop. The sleeves of her shirt were pushed up to midway on her upper arms, revealing a small bandage on her left elbow. A matching bandage could be seen on her right knee, as well as several grass stains. The boots she normally wore lay in a heap beside the rock. They were made of smooth, soft leather, and were cut to go all the way up her calves. Her bare toes wiggled, then clung to the sun-warmed rock beneath them. Her eyes were closed, and she was swaying from side to side gently as her nimble fingers danced over her ocarina. A pink fair bobbed beside her, its flicking wings sending showers of magic down with each stroke.
Crickets hummed tunelessly in the soft, toe-tickling grass that covered the ground. The girl paused in her playing, removed the ocarina from her mouth, and opened her eyes. They were the color of the summer sky: a deep, clean blue. The child sighed contentedly and set the wooden instrument down on the rock beside her. Then, she gathered her knees up to her chest and held them tightly with her arms. She rocked back and forth slowly a few times, then glanced over her shoulder at the fairy beside her.
"Fael, look at the sunset," she murmured, marveling at the rainbow-hued western sky. The fairy, Fael, dipped her fluffy body to signal a nod, and settled down on the girl's shoulder, nestling up closer to her cheek.
"It's beautiful, Saria," she agreed. Saria smiled.
"The Forest is peaceful tonight," the child remarked. She breathed in deeply and snuggled her small chin down between her knees. Fael uttered a soft laugh like the chiming of a small handbell.
"Tell me when it isn't."
Saria giggled and reached up with a crooked finger to tickle the furry fairy. "You've got me there," she admitted. Her gaze shifted back to the glorious, colorful sky, and her eyes took on a dreamy cast. "I just don't know. Sometimes it feels like something dark is trying to take hold here, something that should be kept away." She shuddered and hunched her shoulders up around her neck. "Or maybe I'm just imagining things for fun. It's getting late, anyways. I think we should head home before it gets too dark, Fael."
Fael bobbed in the air to signal another nod. Saria uncurled herself from her fetal position, stretching up to stand on the cooling stone beneath her. She hopped down nimbly, stashing her precious ocarina in a small pouch hanging from her black belt, and started to pull on her boots one at a time. Fael settled back down on the rock to wait. As she leaned back against her stair-perch, Saria hummed snatches of the song she had been playing. A calm smile stretched across her face, and the sinking sun played with the shadows the grin created.
The pregnant Wolfos skidded to a halt, panting from her frenzied dash through the darkening woods. Her chest heaved up and down painfully. The sharp-stick was still buried in the middle of her back, although by some miracle the blood flow had been reduced to a mere trickle. Her legs felt weak and wobbly as a newborn pup's, and the action of standing seemed to put unbearable strain on them.
A ripping, tearing sensation raced along her flanks, bringing the Wolfos into a crouch of pain. She whimpered. That same spasm had been twitching along the length of her body the whole time she had been running, but now it was getting worse. It was that sensation that had forced her to stop. The stirrings of the cubs in her belly had been getting more frequently, too, she noted with some alarm. Her wide, golden eyes flicked from side to side as she stood panting. She needed to lie down. Now.
A stick cracked behind her.
The she-Wolfos leapt into the air in surprise, her pelt bristling. Her mind recalled the grunting roars of the beast she had so narrowly escaped from. It would be chasing after her, she was sure, coming to claim its sharp-stick and her life. The stick had probably been broken by something as harmless as a rabbit, or perhaps a deer. Prey. Prey was safe, she told herself. Prey would not hurt her, it would be repelled by her predator-smell.
The undergrowth shuffled ominously.
Her teeth flashed in the bloody light, gleaming sharp and dangerous. The beast might have been able to keep up with her...If it caught her now...She shook her head vigorously, then staggered slightly from the wave of dizziness the motion had brought on. Her breathing was starting to even out, and unfortunately so were the agonizing contractions. Her pups were coming. Now. With the beast chasing her.
The breeze in her face carried a phantom trace of that dark, rotting, dead stench.
The Wolfos snarled and let out a loud, aggressive bark to show the beast that she was not through yet. She whipped around and lunged, heavy-pawed, through the tangled undergrowth, only to stop short a few heartbeats later. The sharp-stick embedded in her back was stuck, snared in the crotch of a sapling tree. The Wolfos strained forwards, digging her claws into the soft earth to pull herself along. Saliva dragged in thick, sticky ropes from her muzzle to trail in the dirt. Her breathing was hard, and each exhalation brought a small whimper of pain from her mighty chest.
With a ripping noise, the sharp-stick tore loose, taking a chunk of flesh from her narrow back. The Wolfos tumbled forward, head over paws. She landed painfully on her injured back in a small clearing, a landing which elicited a short yelp from her mouth. She dragged herself to her feet slowly and eased herself up. Another crippling wave of pain sent her back down to the ground, where she lay, panting, bleeding, dying.
A small gasp caused her ears to prick forwards.
She opened one eye weakly and whined. A Man-pup stood before her, its tiny, pale paws pressed up against its round face. Almost at once, the Wolfos noticed the peaceful aura emanating from the Man-pup. The air in the glade was warm and easy to breathe. She relaxed for the first time since her encounter with the beast. The Man-pup uttered a tiny, quiet cry like the yip of a scared pup.
Another contraction caused the Wolfos to roll over onto her side. The grass below was soft and springy, perfect to line the nests of her newborn pups. Briefly, the Wolfos wondered if she would live long enough to make their nests. If not, she thought, then perhaps the peaceful Man-pup would be willing to do it for her. Spasm after spasm racked her tired, weak body. The Man-pup dropped down beside her and rested its paw on her flank lightly. The smell of fear radiated from its slender, two-legged body, and the she-Wolfos reached around to lick its trembling foreleg comfortingly. She was not dangerous, not now.
A gush of warm wetness at her tail told the Wolfos that the birth had begun for real now. She dropped her head to the ground and whined in anticipation of the pain to come. She felt too tired to bring the cubs into the world now, but she knew that there was no way to rest. Her fangs gritted together as she bore down, focusing all her strength into the rolling muscles in her lower body. Her breath snorted in and out through her dry nostrils, and she dug her claws into the soft dirt at her paws.
Through the worst of her pain, she felt a delicate ruffling in her fur, a stroking motion that seemed to soothe her shattered nerves. She realized that it was the Man-pup petting her, fondling her thick, coarse pelt lovingly. She sighed in relief, glad to know that at least someone in these woods wanted her to be comfortable.
When Saria saw the head of the first Wolfos pup emerge into the world, she thought she was going to be ill. It was sticky, slimy, and covered in blood and mucus. She watched in mixed horror and amazement as the shoulders that, when properly muscled, would give the beast its trademarked forward-slumped shape, followed. The rest of the pup all but slid out from the mother's body. Its small body was wrapped in a pale, filmy membrane that was partially translucent. Saria watched the Wolfos twist around to clean the pup off. When she was finished, the mighty mother grasped the pup by the scruff of its neck and set it at her side.
The pup wormed its way across the tickling grass to the Wolfos's exposed belly. It was small, probably about a foot in length—tiny, when compared to its mother, who stood five feet at the shoulder. Its gray fur was dark with wetness, plastered down over its small body. Its eyes were tightly shut, its ears pressed flat to the sides of its head. It had stubby claws that looked quite soft, almost malleable, and which poked out from its round, pudgy paws at odd angles. The little newborn reached its mother's side, poked around for a nipple,. Then latched on and started to nurse hungrily.
Saria couldn't help a small, awed gasp at the sight of the infant Wolfos. Tears blurred her vision at the simple beauty of the creature, and in a fit of pure love for the laboring mother, she twined her fingers in the big Wolfos's mane-like ruff and kissed her forehead. The yellow eyes snapped open at the light touch of the child's lips, softening with the same emotions. "Don't give up," Saria whispered, continuing to stroke the she-Wolfos's long face. Streaks of clean appeared down her play-dusty face. "You're doing so beautifully...You're doing great..."
Though she had no idea what the Man-pup was saying to her, her words were kind and gentle, and the sound of them calmed the Wolfos down even more. Though her flanks were cramped painfully, she seemed to be worlds away from the pain. She snuffled around at the Man-pup's waist, and found a small pouch with wood-scent on it. She nudged the pouch curiously. The Man-pup reached into the pouch and pulled forth a small wooden object. She asked something that the Wolfos did not understand, hesitated, then put the wood to her lips.
Beautiful music streamed out around the pair of them the moment she did. The she-Wolfos sighed contentedly, turning her eyes up to look at the Man-pup. A vague tug at her tail-end attracted her attention. The second pup had found its way into the sunset forest. Filled with powerful love for her new pup, she reached out with a gentle forepaw and brought the pup closer to her mouth. There, she proceeded to clean it off and dry it a bit, all while listening to the wonderful melodies swirling around her.
The birth of the third pup nearly escaped her notice. It was all coming along so easily now, she barely had time to feel the squeeze of the pup's shoulders. Turning around to study the newest addition to her litter, the Wolfos saw that she had delivered a runt.
Instinct filled her with dislike that the music could not blot out. Runt pups were a waste of milk. They were magnets for diseases and predators that would endanger the lives of the healthier cubs. Most Wolfos mothers chose to end the lives of any runts they brought into the world by neglecting to free the pup from its birth-sac, refusing to feed it, or simply by killing it themselves. She decided on the last option.
Teeth like white knives flashed in the light of the setting sun as the Wolfos growled with hatred for the runt pup squirming feebly in its birth-sac. She bent her body around until she was facing the runt, then took its wriggling body in her powerful jaws. At once, the music stopped, and the Man-pup let out a fearful cry.
Saria was horrified at what she was seeing. The gentle mother Wolfos was ready to take the life of one of her own children. The ocarina fell from her mouth, bounced off her knees, and rolled to a stop a few feet away. "No!" she cried, tears rolling down her face in terror. "No! Please, stop! Don't hurt it!!"
All of a sudden, she remembered the creature she was dealing with. This was not a harmless house-dog...This was a wild animal, a Wolfos at that! She may seem tame now, but that didn't make her any less powerful or dangerous. Saria heard her pulse, loud and like thunder, booming in her slender, pointed ears. Her breath came in quick, shallow pants. A cold sweat began to creep across her face, and she barely felt Fael's warm body when the fairy landed lightly on her shoulder. She clutched a hand to her chest fearfully, wondering what the confronted beast would do to her now.
The Wolfos hesitated, turning her massive head to face the child. She deposited the pup at her paws, licking her lips and fangs in confusion. Saria felt the urge to take advantage of the creature's confusion and save the cub's life. She shook her head and put her hands overtop the sticky membrane enclosing the newborn Wolfos. "No," she repeated in a quiet, disbelieving voice. "Please, don't hurt it...I know it's smaller than the others, but please give it a chance..." Her voice wavered as she spoke.
She locked eyes with the adult Wolfos, and was suddenly aware of just how big it truly was. The paw resting in the meadow's grass by her knees...It was bigger than her own face, with claws as long as her fingers. Muscles bulged and rippled along the length of those big forelegs. The teeth she had seen were as big as the knives she sometimes used to cut up vegetables. The Wolfos lying before her may be docile now, but when confronted, she could be the monster from the Kokiri girl's worst nightmares.
Silence, heavy and tense, weighed down the air like summer humidity. Saria withdrew her hands, and the Wolfos's head descended onto the pup. The child buried her face in her arms and started to sob and cry. Fael hummed down beside her head and flicked her wings rapidly around the girl's ears to block out any sounds. Saria was sickened and fearful. She didn't know if she would be able to raise her eyes, even if the mother Wolfos had finished slaughtering her child.
The rub of a dry nose brushed her knees, and against her better judgement, Saria looked up. Her eyes flew open wide as she realized that the Wolfos before her was nursing three pups. No blood covered the creature's muzzle, and her warm yellow eyes spoke volumes to the trembling child. Saria wiped her eyes with the back of her hands and smiled weakly. "Thank you," she whispered shakily. She bent to kiss the she-Wolfos's nose and received a warm, wet lick in reply. A giggle escaped her.
It was a moment of weakness, yes, but she was glad she had spared the life of the runt pup. Killing the pup would have distressed the Man-pup, and right now the Wolfos felt she could use the company. The blood from her back now seeped under her belly and matted the grass stickily there. As she laid her head down on the ground, the Wolfos realized something that struck with a kind of dim surprise. She was going to die here.
She wondered if the scavengers were already massing in the stretching shadows, waiting to be the first to taste her once-living flesh. She wondered what would come. Keatons, with their dandelion pelts and dainty paws? Takkuri vultures, with their hooked beaks and tearing claws? Or would the beast come for her at last, holding aloft its newly-reclaimed sharp-stick? The Wolfos grimaced slightly at the last thought.
The beast. The pig-nosed beast. The rusty-armored beast. The killing, stabbing beast. The beast. It was the beast's fault that she was dying here, the beast's fault she had been split off from her pack right as she was about to give birth. She hated the beast. She hated its sickly, rotting stench...She hoped one day it would rot and stink and be just as low and forgotten as the dead plants it smelled of. The beast. How she hated the beast.
Her breathing slowed, becoming deeper and easier. Motes of dust and Forest magic drifted in the darkening air. The face of the Man-pup leaning over her was full of shadows, with only a little light showing around the edges. The Wolfos reached up weakly and licked the side of that round, innocent face. She was glad that the Man-pup was here to be with her as she died. But she wanted the Man-pup to do one last thing for her. Her mighty head slowly fell back down to the ground, and she pawed something towards the Man-pup. It was the wooden object that made so much beautiful music.
She wanted to hear that music one last time with her pups before she died.
The Man-pup picked up the object and nodded. Small streams of water leaked from her dark blue eyes as she lifted it up to her mouth. The dying Wolfos curled her body around her cubs as the sweet sound wove around her. She gave each drying pelt a sniff and a lick. Two males, two healthy sons. The runt was a female. Her head fell down beside her paws, muzzle resting by the three nursing cubs. Her eyelids were growing heavier by the second, slowly drawing her yellow eyes shut. Her tired heart bounced around in her chest with a slow tiredness. She breathed in quiet, long pulls. Every muscle in her body relaxed as one. Dying wasn't as bad as she feared. It was just like falling asleep.
With the last of her strength, the dying mother looked up at the Man-pup. She tried to convey her thanks with the warmth in her closing eyes, but the Man-pup's eyes were closed. She was swaying back and forth with the tune of her music. The Wolfos sighed. Her eyes fell shut. The last of her breath escaped in a final, sighing breeze.
Saria continued to play, even though she knew the Wolfos had died. The tears coursed down her cheeks freely, and the song she was playing took on a wobbly sound as she sobbed for breath. But she did not stop playing. She barely knew the dead Wolfos lying at her feet, but she felt compelled to play her spirit off to the next life. It was the least she could do, she decided.
When Saria played the final note of her song for the Wolfos, she held it out for as long as her lungs allowed. Then, she took the ocarina from her lips and rested it in her lap. In the dim light of the stars, she could just make out the shape of the Wolfos's muzzle.
She could have sworn it was smiling peacefully up at her.
Shivering slightly, the Kokiri bent down to pick up the three sleeping pups. They whimpered as she lifted them into her arms, and she felt obligated to hold each one down by its mother's body for a few moments. Then, their goodbyes said, the pups snuggled as one up against her chest. Saria headed towards the less dense part of the woods she had made her home in, pausing at the edge of the meadow to gaze back at the mother Wolfos.
The light of the stars and moon bathed the shaggy body in a dim glow. From this distance, Saria thought, she looked like she was simply resting. And perhaps she was.
The runt pup started suckling at the girl's fingers, and Saria realized that she needed to find a warm place to keep the cubs. Her stomach growled hungrily. She barely stifled a yawn. All of these things sent her feet thudding across the ground, headed home. She was striding briskly, not quite running, but not exactly walking. Fael bobbed behind her, casting a warm, rosy pink glow on the path ahead.
A warm, summery breeze picked up, rustling the grass of the Sacred Forest Meadow and tousling the thick pelt of the dead Wolfos lying there. The spear that had condemned her to die that night lay a few feet away. It looked harmless in the soft, white light from the heavens above, like a child's toy tossed carelessly aside. The trees' branches, thick with leaves and flowers, whispered together under the stars. It was impossible to believe that so much blood had been spilled only hours before.
Then, from the darkness of the thick trees, a shadow appeared. The spear was lifted into its thick, bulky hands. The air became rich with the rotting smell of the Wolfos mother's hated beast. It glanced at the dead creature without any kind of pity or remorse, then tramped off, back into the darkness it had emerged from. The breeze stopped, and for a few minutes the thick stench of the beast hung over the sacred clearing.
The breeze picked up again, clearing the air of the odor. But it could not erase the beast's final mark. Though dead, when the monster had set foot in the glade, the Wolfos's teeth had bared and frozen into a final snarl of pure rage.
Okay, the run-down for the squeamish people. Basically, it's this pregnant Wolfos gets attacked by a Moblin that she calls "the beast." She's been fighting it for quite some time, when it buries its spear in the middle of her back. She takes off running and winds up in the Sacred Forest Meadow, where Saria is with her fairy (who, for simplicity's sake, will be name Fael—yes, I know it sounds like "fail." That doesn't mean anything). Saria helps her deliver three pups, the last of which is a runt. The mother Wolfos dies, and Saria takes the pups back with her into the Forest to raise them. Awww...
The story starts out a few years before Ocarina of Time actually takes place, so all the Kokiri are a little younger than they might appear in the game (this includes Link). So...yeah.