I didn't realize there was a wagon trail around here! But, wait.. There isn't-and I should know-so how in the world did a wagon get here? The terrain here is anything but wagon-friendly, what with all of the fern-ridden cliffs and ledges that blot the forest. Sure enough though, across the moss-ridden trees and foliage, a dapple and a freight wagon rocks back and forth across the brush, toddling just at the edge of my range of vision. I secure my mask, tuck the stray locks of my russet hair under my burlap hood, and slink through the undergrowth. At this point, I can't afford to pass up any opportunities, even if it is a rickety thing.
I get close enough to tail the wagon, but I know won't be able to keep up my current case. For a second though, my uneasiness turns into admiration. The wheels of the wagon have been shaped and serrated to help traverse the rugged terrain; this driver knows what he's doing. I break into as silent a sprint as I can manage and leap for the tail board. I slip my fingers into the tarp opening and worm my way into the cargo hold, making sure seal the tarp behind me.
Inside, I find enough basic provisions to last a grown man weeks, months if rationed well enough. I figure this can't be a trading cart; while the provisions are generous, there aren't enough of each item to sell to any sizeable market, even if the intended destination is a small village. Whoever the driver is, he intends to make his journey alone; I can't afford to be seen. Keeping as silent as possible, I snuggle myself into a corner towards the front of the cart and doze off to the murmurs of outside clatter.
The wagon comes to a full stop within a few hours. I hear the driver step down from his perch and I burrow under the pile of blankets to my side. He throws the tarp open so sharply, I almost throw my hiding spot across the cart. I'm thoroughly muffled and restrained by the woolen pile, so much so that it becomes difficult to breathe before very long. To my relief, the driver finishes his rummaging at breakneck speed and shuts the tarp. I wait for no more than a few seconds before beginning my frantic scramble from claustrophobia.
"Ya' know," the throaty voice tears through the tarp and straight to my astonished ears, "if ya' needed a lift that badly, ya' could've just asked." I feel my stomach hit the floor and my chest scrunch up. Oh for the love of Hylia…
I try calling bluff and shrink back into my corner like a roach. I huddle bunched up and wide eyed, nerves completely shot. Unfortunately, I fail to notice the long-nosed silhouette nuzzling the tarp and from behind, and a huge, breath-filled chuff sends me off the rails and flailing across the wagon, right into one of the food crates. My spinning head does nothing to quell my adrenaline and the throaty voice startles me for the second time as its laugh tears through the wagon again. "Aww, ya' don't need to be afraid of my boy here! Why don't ya' come out and meet him?" I pick up my mask from the wagon floor, position my knife in a backhanded grip, and shoot myself straight through the tarp in hopes of scaring the man into submission.
The next half-second goes by in a blur and I find myself face-first on the forest floor, blood pounding in my ears. I'm fairly certain a hand had a hold of my tunic at one point. A calloused hand gingerly peels my knife from my fingers. Now I'm afraid to turn myself over. Who will I meet when I do? If I do? The decision is made for me and my shoulder is swiftly flipped to the other side of my body. My assailant… target?... kneels over me, piercing my mask and setting my cheeks on fire with amber eyes. Only his lower lip is visible through the curtain of black wiry hair draped on the lower half of this face. His enormous fingers work their way across my knife, but they move with such nimble grace, I can't help but watch. His flaming irises soon dart back towards me, sending a sharp jolt through my back.
"This isn't a half-bad little piece of handiwork ya' got here, kiddo!" The man's eyes are on fire, but smile is gentle and sincere. Even still, I clamber out from under his hulking silhouette as fast as I can and flatten myself against a tree. He doesn't bat an eye. "Ya' make this yerself?" I don't move. He tosses the knife to my feet and makes his way over to tie his dapple to a nearby outcropping. "I'd think that mask would be pretty un-comfy to wear, but ya' look like ya' got yer act together. Been out here long?"
I decide I don't like him. I know it's in my best interest at this point to think otherwise, but I remain rigid against my tree-trunk, undeterred. He seems to sense my tension with psychic powers… or I'm just that awful at composing myself. "Don't worry now, ya' got enough beasties to worry 'bout without me on yer case. See I know better than that, y'aren't a bad-guy. Yer just as desperate as the rest of us aren't ya'?" I loosen up a bit. "Heh-heh! Thought so." I tense again.
"Ya' got good instincts, kiddo. Those'll do ya' good later on. Heck, in yer little shoes, I wouldn't trust me either. At the very least, trust me when I say that if I really wanted ya' hurt, I'd 've steered Bo here over a good rock and broken yer jaw on the wagon tail." By this point, my legs may as well be made of water. I give up on my "composure" and crumple to the ground. The man immediately leaves his horse and gently takes my shoulders in his nimble root-like hands.
"Heh-heh-heh. Goin' limp-noodle on me are ya'?" He stands me up and begins brushing off my tunic. I realize he still doesn't have a clue what I look like; between my baggy tunic, musty pants, and headgear, there isn't a visible inch of skin showing on my body. I draw back again, fearful that he might go for my mask.
His feet are still like rocks and he drops his hands. After giving me another gentle smile, the driver continues tending to his horse, treating it just as gingerly if not even more so than he did me. "Got a name? Mine's Luloh, by the way." I open my mouth and my voices catches, sending me into a violent coughing fit and setting my cheeks ablaze again. Luloh chuckles.
After regaining the ability to breathe properly, I lift a trembling hand and lower the deku mask off my burning face. "I-Inasa. I'm… s-sorry for stowing away… on… th-the wagon… sir." Luloh reminds me all too much of my father. He scares me, like how you know you're about to be told off because you know you messed up and you know there's no getting out of it. Luloh carries himself the same way my dad did. Whenever he walks, he somewhat shuffles with his boulder-feet, but his chin is held high and shoulders are pushed back like a soldier's. His hands dangle casually by his side when idle, but every movement those hands make are intentional and carried out with clear purpose.
Watching Luloh feed Bo is somewhat comforting. He seems content, even pleased with my less-than-confident introduction, and the more I compare him to my father, the less threatened I feel by his amber eyes. Eventually the burn leaves entirely and I find myself sitting like a small child with one of his blankets over my shoulders, treating myself to smoked mutton and chicken broth. As I'm sipping at my meal, I realize it's the closest thing I had eaten to a home-cooked meal in… years.
…Instead of having me ride in the back of the wagon, Luloh promotes me to his perch at the head of the cart. The wagon itself is a modest and battered little thing. It actually reminds me of Luloh himself, save for the "little" part. Yer just as desperate as the rest of us, aren't ya'? I promise myself I'd remember those words. Not everyone can admit to that level of vulnerability, but even after proving he can easily get himself out from under a knife, he does nothing to make himself look invincible. And now that the embers in his irises have died down, I see the same hurt in his eyes as the hurt I see nowadays whenever I find my reflection.
He keeps to his own, though; and I keep to mine. The closest thing to personal life he gives me is the route that his journey is taking. After further inquiry, he shows his plans to me on the grandest, most intricate set of maps and charts and atlases that I'd ever seen in my chart is like its own painting, detailed and textured, with labels and keys done in calligraphy suitable for the royal family.
Luloh wants to stay tucked away under the trees for the most part. Further to the east, the woodlands stretch and curve north towards Hyrule Castle through the Ordon and Faron Provinces. When Luloh unfurls his map, I notice for the first time all of scratched-in "x"s scattered across the worn parchment. I catch one of the "x"s marking the exact location of my village.
After staring at the little "x" with wet eyes and having completely forgotten about the world around me, Luloh rolls the map up and gives me a pitying glance before tying the pieces of parchment. "I came across the shambles of that poor place not one year ago. I knew the raids stretched far, but that lil' town was right at the border…" I tucked my chin to my chest as a salt drop rolled down my cheek. I bit my lip to keep it from quivering. "Poor thing," Luloh sighs and tucks his charts behind the wagon tarp. "We'll have to be more careful as we get closer the castle. Credit where credit is due, not every castle can hold up to nearly a decade-and-a-half of attacks from these beasties, but that just puts a bigger target on their heads. Heck, I heard the monsters stopped attacking some of the major cities entirely to focus their efforts on the Princess. I'm not really one for large-scale combat, but I know strategy when I see it."
I rub my eyes and clamber up to my perch, settle myself behind Bo, and somewhat begrudgingly mumble, "You make these things sound like soldiers. They're not soldiers, they're demons."
"Hmph. Call 'em what ya' like, kiddo," Luloh settles next to me and the wagon lurches forward. "However, these 'demons' aren't the kind of force that just goes around poppin' off whichever lil' town they find along their merry lil' way. They're organized. See, the first cities to go were the major hubs and Hyrule Castle went under siege right away." Bo handed me the reins, reached back into the cart, and pulled out the map with all of the "x"s. "See the ones in red? Now I don't know a whole lotta people personally, but I do know how to keep up with the world. I've been tracking which towns and stations have been leveled and when. Every red "x" on this here chart is a town or city that was essential to the functioning of Hyrule. Wanna know how I know these beasties are smart? I was using almost nothing but red until three years into the Assaults, and I haven't used red since. Ya' see what I'm gettin' at?"
Luloh trades me the chart for the reigns. "Fortunately, the Princess is smart, too." I look up from the map and ask, "Is that how the castle has been able to hold out for so long?"
"Aw yeah. But even as well as it's been doing given the situation, we don't wanna go all the way over there."
"Why not?"
"Well it's like I said before, they're a bigger target now. But also like I said, lil' Zelda's a smart thing. And I got a feeling that she's the one putting up barriers of light around some of the growing cities and circulating trade again. That's where we wanna be."
I begin imagining thriving villages encased in golden domes of sunlight. With magic like that, even the giant armored argoroks can't hope to touch the people living there. Luluoh continues.
"Rumor has it among the soldiers that Zelda's also prying at the Gorons to the west for help. Their elders are supportive for the most part in terms of resources, which is why Hyrule's still going, but they aren't so keen to risk their tails and provoke a force that's left them alone thus far."
My eyes widen. I heard that the Gorons are an extremely tough people, but are the monsters actually afraid of them? Luloh quickly answers my question. "The new monsters can handle the Goron Tribe no problem, but there have been exactly zero raids on ol' Death Mountain. Guess the enemy really is smart, huh?" My brow furrows as I try to find the rationale for staying away from Eldin.
Of course. By leaving the Gorons alone, the monsters can pick off the humans and deal with Death Mountain later. The war stays one-versus-one. "Someone's leading them." I blurt. Luloh turns, smiles, and scrubs the top of my head. "I was right about those instincts of yers. Someone probably is leading them - someone who knows what he or she's doing."
…The journey is smooth for about the first week or so. We keep to the brush where the big monsters can't easily navigate and I practice hurtling my "spore-seeds" at the ever-persistent deku scrubs, who in turn provide me with more seeds for later. One day, Luloh stops Bo and slaps a hand over my mouth. I look up at him and watch as his burning eyes sear the woods around us. What is it? I grip my seat and then I feel it: the earth is shaking.