Hello my lovely readers! Here is another story based on my backstory for Breath Of The Wild Link. Please feel free to Read, Favorite, and Enjoy! If you have any suggestions, don't refrain from suggesting.

-WingedIceWolf

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN BREATH OF THE WILD! IT BELONGS TO SHIGERU MIYAMOTO!

The rain poured upon him as he ran, not having much strength to do so. His hands were bound tightly in front of him and crimson was mingling with cold rain from multiple gashes in his sides, legs, and chest. His amber-gold hair was matted with his own blood, him quickly being drained of strength as his body continued to lose much blood.

I'm going to die…he thought to himself, shivering violently from the cold and coughing up flecks of blood into his sleeve. He didn't know where he was going or if he would make it in time, his whole world flashing in and out from his vision, only able to hear the roar of thunder along with the howl of the wind.

He was forced to rest, thankfully finding a cave to keep himself shielded from the desert storm, but the freezing wind didn't help. He had sand inside his wounds, causing stinging along with the icy rain that drenched him in what clothing he had on.

The hero lied on the hard surface of the cave, curled up and trying to keep warm. He shivered uncontrollably, wanting and praying for some form of warmth, wanting to remain alive. He couldn't die now, he had to save Zelda from Ganon's clutches…But he was only an eighteen-year-old boy, how was he to save an entire kingdom from a ten-thousand-year-old evil?

He continued to shiver and watched the sand kick up in the storm, listening to the wind that blew through the caverns. Several hours ago, he was going to be slain by the Yiga, a group who swore allegiance to Calamity. The Yiga once were Sheikah, a race dedicated to protecting the royal family, banished from the kingdom due to precautions and swearing their revenge.

Yet, he somehow managed to escape and recover his things…

His back stung from the whipping they did and the many stabs they delivered into his spine; it was a miracle that he could still stand at all. He didn't scream, barely flinched, tried his best to not show them any weakness, and all the time, he prayed to the Gods that he would find a way to get out of this torture. He did not want to fail his kingdom, but most of all, he didn't wish to fail his princess.

Before he even knew it, his world went dark around him and he fell unconscious to the cries of the storm and tears of the rain…

The bandit tribe was returning from a recent raid when one of their horses stopped in its tracks, neighing and tossing its large head in the air, its dark mane dancing. That usually signaled someone was nearby, so the lead bandit snapped his fingers and motioned around the area. It didn't seem like there was much to find, considering they were taking a winding route through a deep ravine during the night, but it still was necessary to take precautions.

Two men from behind the leader dismounted, unsheathing their scythes that were dripping with rain from the storm, gazing into the distance. All seemed clear for several minutes until one bandit spoke up.

"Found a boy, sir. Bleeding badly and cut up," came the man's voice, kneeling inside the cave and tilting the Hero's cold chin, fingers feeling for a pulse, his fingers pulling away with blood. "Still alive too."

The leader paused and then shook his head in amusement. "Bring him here."

And so, the bandit dragged the Hero by his wet and torn shirt to his feet, getting a stifled cry of pain from the younger boy as he slung him over his back and carried him to the leader. "Still holding on sir."

"Seems he's strong," the leader began, looking over the small form of the collapsed Hero. He took notice of the belts around his waist and from his side to his shoulder, also taking note of the now crimson stained battle trained arms of the boy, a trait of a warrior. His hair blew in the breeze, ears lowered while his scarlet stained body glistened in the moonlight. "Probably not much worth to us, but we would get some good rupees off him. Probably would cause more trouble than good for us."

"Pointed ears too," commented another man, leaning forward in his saddle to peer at the boy as his horse pawed at the ground with one hoof. "I've heard of a chosen hero with pointed ears and golden hair, eyes like sapphires. Fought like a champion, that one, died protecting his princess. But he's long dead. Can't be this one. If anything, a descendant."

"So, you say," the leader commented, looking at the Hero. "Well, if he lives. the price will stay at 500 rupees for start. Then we will go from there. Would make a good slave, don't you think?"

The bandits all nodded in agreement, tying the already bound, limp and barely breathing Hero to a saddle and then taking off into the desert plateau, their horses kicking up sand as they went along. Within a flash, the bandits had claimed their prize and the wind had swept up any signs of their arrival.

Muahaha...I love leaving off on cliffies. I unfortunately have schooling in my way so this story process may be a slow one, but just bear with me here. Thanks for reading and reviewing! Love yah all!
-WingedIceWolf