disclaimer: The Legend of Zelda belongs to Nintendo.
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Link stumbled out of the cave's mouth and all but threw himself on Epona's back, digging his heels into her sides to urge her into a gallop. She bolted forward immediately, streaking through the trees with her ears back and eyes white around the edges; she could sense her master's panic as well as smell the monsters so close in pursuit. They were fast, but Epona was faster. Link had never been more grateful to have her on his side.
Where could he go? Not back to the Kokiri; that would only lead the monsters into the village and cause a massacre. He was in no shape to turn around and fight them all; his numerous wounds caused jolts of pain with every step Epona took. His only choice was to try to lose them. He turned Epona towards the edge of the forest, then pulled out his bow and turned around to look at his enemies.
Clearly, the entire army had not chased him out of the cave, but there were still several dozen coming after him. Link nocked an arrow and drew back the bowstring, the wrist he had hurt in his fall screaming in protest, and took out a Lizalfos—not that it did much good. Still, he continued shooting, missing more often than usual because of the tremor in his hands and the pain in his wrist. Once his quiver was empty, he turned back around.
Something struck Link's shoulder blade with what felt like the force of a Goron, tearing through chain mail and piercing his flesh, causing him to howl in pain. He collapsed forward against Epona's neck, grabbing her mane to keep himself from tumbling off her back. It was a sensation he was unfortunately familiar with. The monsters had bows of their own, apparently. Link didn't look back to see the arrow embedded in his skin—he didn't need to. He had to get out of here.
The borderline of the trees was visible now. The sun was setting behind him, giving the forest an eerie red-orange glow. Link threaded his fingers through Epona's mane, trying to sit up in the saddle, but the arrow was an agonizing weight on his back, pressing him down. His breath wheezed in his throat, and blood soaked his tunic. But the break in the trees was so close, so close—
Link heard the whistling of a second arrow too late; Epona screamed as it struck her flank, but by some miracle she hardly faltered. Red-hot rage filled him, boiling under his skin. He wanted to turn around and destroy the monsters that had hurt his horse; to tear them to pieces until there was nothing left but the blood soaking the ground, but he shoved the impulse down. The ugly desire to kill had always terrified him more than anything. Epona kept going, and suddenly they were out in the open field, the sky a tapestry of sunset colors above them.
Link twisted around to look at his hunters. Strangely enough, the monsters had stopped at the edge of the forest, and now they faded back into the shadows with no attempt of pursuing him. That was odd behavior, but relief swamped Link all the same—relief for himself, but also for the safety of Hyrule. He shuddered to think of what would happen if the entire army came to Hyrule Field.
Epona broke to a canter, then a trot, then a walk. Link knew he should remove the arrow from his back and her flank, but strength eluded him. He slumped in the saddle, his head spinning, barely able to support his own weight.
"Beautiful girl," he mumbled to Epona, stroking her neck partly to comfort her and partly to keep himself conscious. "Just hold on. We'll make it through this." Not for the first time, Link thanked the Goddesses for his incredible horse and her tenacity. He would not make it out of this mess alive if not for Epona.
Then his shoulder blade, where the arrow had struck, began to tingle oddly—then it began to burn. His hands gripped Epona's mane tightly, fingernails digging into his palms to keep himself from crying out and attracting the attention of any wild predators. The burning began to spread, sharp and biting; down his back, through his arms, filling his veins until he felt like his blood was boiling inside his skin. Poison—that was his last coherent thought. The arrow had been poisoned. Agony swamped him, carrying his mind away with the tide.
The sun sank below the horizon, bringing the warmth with it. Still soaked from his fall into the pool, Link trembled with cold, struggling to stay awake. He had a horrible dread that if he fell asleep, he might never wake up again. He did not know how much time passed after that. He rode in a dreamlike stupor, weak from blood loss and dizzy with pain.
When they passed through the ranch gates, Link's strength failed him. He heard shouts, frantic and panicked, but they sounded very far away. His stiff fingers released Epona's mane, his muscles went slack, and he tumbled out of the saddle.
He was unconscious the moment he hit the ground.
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"—infection isn't going to wait, Malon. That arrow has to come out now."
His eyes wouldn't open. His pulse was pounding too loudly in his ears. His body was impossibly heavy, laying on his stomach on something wooden and cool. It was difficult to draw in air; his lungs felt seared. Breathing hurt. Everything hurt.
There was a quiet sigh. "Fine. Ingo, get a wagon ready. Father, hold him."
Shuffling footsteps; the opening and closing of a door. Where was he? Why couldn't he move? Hands took hold of his shoulders, pressing him down.
And then, blinding, brilliant pain.
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The clip-clop of hooves against stone. The creaking of wagon wheels. His head on someone's lap. Fingers brushing against his forehead.
He still could not open his eyes.
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"—will do whatever we can, Princess. But there is no telling whether or not he will make it through."
Princess?
"I know he will." The voice was musical and gentle, but backed by iron—and more familiar than the back of his own hand. He had known it for a hundred lifetimes. "He always does."
Link's eyes flew open. He tried to say her name, but his tongue wasn't working. His vision blurred as her golden hair spilled over his eyes, and she pressed her lips to his forehead.
Then the darkness rose up, and pulled him under.
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