Chapter Seven

The Storm

Alone in the goat paddock, Dark waited atop the fence, watching the goats mill about in agitation at the far end of the field. Though the summer air was hot, a chill breeze began to blow, stirring his hair and whistling mournfully through the scattered clumps of horse grass. Slowly, the shadows of clouds passed across the sun, sending large islands of darkness racing over the grass and making the shrinking shafts of golden sunlight glitter eerily as they vanished, one by one. And then, in a matter of minutes, the sky was bruise-colored, and the air was cool.

Dark stared upward curiously. He'd seen clouds before; towering white and pillowy in the distance above the trees of Ordon, but this was new, this low, dark blanket covering the sky and making the air seem heavy and every sound strangely muffled. It looked so heavy and hanging that Dark wondered, suddenly, if he could reach out and touch it, wondered what it would feel like against his fingers. He reached up a hand and strained his fingers toward the sky, and when they closed on nothing but air he stood up and balanced precariously atop the fence, wavering dangerously as he stood on tiptoe and stretched his arms upward until his shoulders and elbows ached.

A few more inches, he reasoned, and he seized the blade shears that had been hanging loosely at his belt and stabbed them towards the clouds.

A booming CRACK shattered the sky. Fire seared against the inside of Dark's eyelids, and he screamed in panic as the sound ripped through him, deep and rolling and terrifyingly unknown, burying his voice in its reverberating echoes.

He fell from the fence, and in a shining silver arc the blade shears flew from his fingers and flipped through the air. Dark hit the ground hard. The shears landed with a thunk, blade down in the grass next to his head, leaving a line of sharp pain from cheekbone to ear that quickly turned hot and wet. Dark turned his head slowly, stunned, and watched the red inside of him drip against the dirt.

I wasn't supposed to cut myself up... Ilia will be so unhappy...

Something icy splashed against his burning face.

Sprawled out on the grass just inside the goat field, Dark hastily looked back toward the sky. With a tiny plip, another drop of water landed against his skin, and then another, and then a thousand of them, gushing down from the iron clouds. They soaked into his clothes and pooled blurrily in the hollows of his face, turning pinkish where they streamed past his cheek.

He scrambled to his feet as the rain poured around him, now icy cold and plastered with mud. Water from the sky. Was it supposed to do that? Was it meant to pour from the clouds or had something broken, far up in the sky, when he'd heard that crash?

Another CRACK, another flash of scalding light that threw the goat field into sharp lines of shadow. Panicking, heart pounding hard and fast against his ribs, Dark threw himself against a fence-post and gripped it, taking gasping breaths as he tried to blink away the purple afterimages left against his eyes. His face stung, and there was a familiar aching forming behind his eyes, a swirling red something rising like fog in the back of his skull.

He swallowed painfully and closed his eyes tight, pressed his hands to his ears, forcing it back. It was only a sound and a light. It only hurt for a second, like hot tea. Holler if you need help, he remembered, but...

You have to watch the goats. You're no monster, you can do it by yourself. You promised you'd watch them; you said you'd do a good job. Can't you hear them?

Trembling, he opened his eyes and pulled his hands away, and he could hear the goats bleating in blind, animalistic panic all around him, driven into a frenzy by the storm. He wasn't sure what to do; he knew nothing about animals, but it occurred to him that they were just as frightened and cold as he was.

They had stalls in the barn on the edge of the paddock, didn't they? Warm, dry, and full of sweet smelling hay, and with a roof overhead to keep out the rain and the thunder. With sudden determination, Dark picked up the blade shears (can't lose them, they're Fado's) and sprinted across the goatfield, headed toward the dark silhouette of the barn looming faintly through the downpour. He winced as the thunder rumbled again overhead. His numb, waterslick fingers found the edge of the great wooden doors, and he pulled as hard as he could and felt the grating resistance of it as it swung open, dragging through the mud.

The animals didn't run inside like he'd expected them to; they weren't smart enough. Dark darted off into the rain again, and the goats shied away at his approach. This close to them, he could see how big they were; their massive circular horns reaching as high as his shoulders and their muscular shoulderblades thick and strong beneath the bulk of their wool. Their wide black eyes rolled back in terror. Here was the evil thing, the monster, the thing that smelled of predator, and they danced away skittishly as Dark chased them, slipping and sliding across the slick, muddy grass.

"Come on, you have to go inside!" He chased one into a corner of the field, and tentatively he reached out to to it, cringing as it bared square white teeth at him. Pat them on the head. They like that. Just pat them on the head. "Don't be afraid..."

His fingertips shook, inching toward the creature's head, and then-

Something hard and solid and heavy pounded into him from the side, and Dark went flying and landed with a wet smack on his back in the grass. Pain shot up his spine, and he got his first harsh, metallic taste of blood. The red mist swirled in the corners of his vision.

Breathing hard and fast, he rolled over onto his side and saw one of the goats, a massive male with huge, rock-solid horns, glaring at him from a few feet away. It lowered its head for another charge, grunting with protective determination, challenging him, daring him to come near the rest of the herd. A flash of lighting made a million drops of water burn white against Dark's eyes as it leapt towards him.

He barely registered sitting up before the thing struck him and he was thrown to the ground again. His ribs burned where its horns had collided with his side, and his face stung and his head hurt; oh how it hurt, more than anything else in the world. His hand tightened on the handles of the blade shears, burning cold against his skin. He couldn't even feel the rain anymore, and the red mist was filling his vision and his head was pounding and the world flickered silver he had to make it stop, it had to stop hurting, please make it stop, had to stop it had to stop the pain had to kill...

{oOo}

It was Ilia who spotted the search party first, emerging at last from the trees on the edge of the village. She'd been sitting on Rusl and Uli's porch, sheltered from the rain by the overhanging roof and with her back to the door, as if a young girl's presence might somehow keep the blue-eyed wolf away from the room where Link was sleeping. They were sopping wet; Bo, Rusl, Fado, Hance, and Jaggle, each clutching a sword or sturdy branch or slingshot, but with slightly relaxed grips that told her they hadn't needed to use them.

She darted out into the rain as soon as she saw them, and wrapped her arms around Bo in a quick hug. The icy deluge showered around them. "Did you find anything?"

Bo shook his head and wrapped one thick arm around her shoulders to shield her from the weather as they walked back into town. "No wolves in the woods today."

"I was sure those goats were smelling something," Fado murmured, scratching his chin and looking slightly puzzled.

"Storm might've scared it off, whatever it was," suggested Jaggle. "Good for the pumpkins, anyway."

Hanch rubbed his forearms nervously, working some warmth back into them. "We haven't seen that big wolf in a while... right? It probably decided to leave us alone. It's not coming back. I'm sure it's not coming back." He shot a quick, questioning glance at Bo.

"At least the goats-" Rusl began, and Fado made a small startled noise.

"Oh, Farore's Wind, the goats! I left Derek to watch 'em and I didn't tell him a thing about roundin' 'em up in the barn! He's probably been sittin' out in the rain with 'em this whole time!" He slapped his forehead. "You can all go get dried off, I'll be right back, soon as I take care of that."

Ilia twisted nimbly out from under Mayor Bo's arm as Fado began setting off toward the goat field. "I'll come with you!"

"Ilia, come inside and get dried off! Don't go running off after De-" a crack of thunder drowned him out, and Ilia pretended she hadn't heard, glancing back to smile and wave at the bedraggled men before she and Fado were lost from sight in the downpour.

{oOo}

She caught up with Fado at the edge of the goat paddock, just as he was dragging the heavy wooden gate open. He gave her a look as she passed, as if he knew she wasn't really supposed to be there, but didn't stop her. Ilia and Derek were all too well known to be inseparable by now.

Ilia walked out into the open paddock. Gradually, the rain was letting up, turning from a shower to a spatter, and the fine mist of cold rain on warm soil drifted around her. Her feet squelched wetly against mud and flattened grass.

"Derek? You haven't been out here in the rain all this time, have you?" she called out, turing her head this way and that and trying to spot him through the mist and drizzle. The goats milled around her with limp hanging fur, dripping and giving little snorts of indignity. "Did you... did you go inside?"

The barn door was ajar, but peeking inside she saw only warm darkness and empty stalls. "Fado, you should have told him he didn't have to stay outside if it rained!"

"Hey now, I didn't know it was goin' to rain!" Fado called out defensively from farther out across the field. "Did you know it would rain? I didn't know it would rain. I feel bad about just leavin' him out in it, though..."

With a small shrug, Ilia shut and latched the barn door. "He didn't go back to the village. I would have seen."

She began walking out across the field again to join Fado, and saw him make a strangled, retching noise, hunching over slightly, hands clasped to his face.

"Fado?"

"Don't-" He turned around, eyes wide and voice shaking. "Ilia, get back, don't come over here-"

But she'd already started running, arriving at his side before he could even finish the sentence. "Oh," she whispered.

The sprinkling rain pattered around them, and made little ripples in the fresh red slick of watered down blood soaking slowly into the grass at their feet. There was quite a lot of it.

A few feet away, a large, still bulk of blue fur was lying on its side in the mud. Something had very carefully and cleanly sliced most of it into ribbons.

Ilia gagged and backed hurriedly away.

Fado made another choked noise, sounding as if he might be sick. "It... the wolf is back, it killed... It killed my goat! That thing killed one of my goats!" He gave Ilia a look of panic. "It's never actually killed anything, it just... it's always just wandered around before!"

Ilia's heart was hammering in her chest. Her mouth working soundlessly, trying to find words, her eyes following the trail of blood that led away towards the edge of the field, briefly staining the fence in blotches before disappearing into the woods beyond.

"What do I do?" Fado was stammering. "Wolves aren't supposed to do that, they're not that bold, right? It just-"

"Derek!" she managed, the word sounding shrill and hysterical in her ears. "He was watching the goats! We just left him here to watch the goats!"

And before Fado could stop her, she was racing off, vaulting the bloodied fence and vanishing into the darkness beneath the dripping trees.