Rusl rose quietly in the early-dawn gloom. Uli shifted unconsciously on her back, made clumsy by slumber and pregnancy, trying to find the missing warmth. The blacksmith softly kissed her head, before he took up his sword and shield, headed for the smithy. He had work to do. The sun had begun to rise, and Rusl stretched, in the early morning light. Hanch waved at Rusl from where he sat over the gate, keeping watch (at Mayor Bo's insistence). Next watch would belong to Jaggle. Then Rusl.

Until then, he had work in the forge to do. He would keep it light, incase of attack, so that weariness did not let an enemy blade find his flesh, nor fowl the aim of his own strokes. Something delicate and fiddly then. Latches perhaps.

((()))

Zelda shivered, as she stood at the mouth of the sanctuary. Terrible battle had been waged here, enough to impress the violence into the very walls. The Great Faerie of Power had not gone quietly into the long dark. Nor alone.

The Bearer of Courage did not look at her, as he brushed past, Midna was giggling, and making strange noises, as she darted through the psychic carnage of the mangled faerie fountain, like a child in a sweets shop.

"Why are we here?" the man asked, without looking at her, as if to deny acknowledging her presence.

"If the Spirit of Light can be found and freed, it may be possible to revert this area back into the world of Light, along with everything in it," Zelda explained.

"What does this have to do with that?" the man asked. He had not given his name.

Zelda did not believe he would any time soon either.

The girl, Ilia, had not left his sight. He did not trust any of the sheikah, and bore special animosity for Veran.

"So many pieces," Midna laughed, her voice like flawed glass chimes.

"Can you track the great faerie's location?" Impaz demanded.

"That one. That one. Him. Him, it, her… hmmm… maybe him too…" Midna was pointing seemingly at random. She also didn't seem to be answering the question.

"But where did they take the faerie?" Veran interrupted impatiently.

Midna blinked slowly, and then began to point randomly again.

The man was the first to understand.

"They didn't take her any one place," he growled, glaring at Veran, "They ate her—"

Ilia trembled at the harsh words, and the angry young man wrapped an arm around the girl, letting her hide her face in his shirt. She didn't know him, but he acted like he knew her, and knew her well, as his hand automatically rose and cupped the back of her neck.

"—and went in different directions," the hero finished.

"Was there a different plan to find Eldin?" Veran asked, referring to the spirit tasked with protecting the province of Eldin. The province had been named after the spirit of that land, and not the reverse. "Since a dead faerie clearly can tell no tales," the daughter of Impaz grimaced.

"If this Great Faerie has been killed, how do you know the Light spirit isn't also dead?" the man challenged.

"The Great Faeries are personifications of the Gods, separate from the land, and the Gods do not live here. The Spirits of Light are manifestations of the land, and cannot be truly destroyed unless that land is similarly destroyed," Impaz answered curtly, irritated with the man's disrespectful bearing.

"Dead?" Midna asked, studying Veran intently.

"Yes. Dead. Ceasing to live," Veran replied sharply.

"The light-creature isn't dead. It hurts," Midna licked her lips hungrily.

"So much pain… and life—"

"The great faerie, it was torn apart, but did not die?" Zelda asked, clarifying.

"Some things can't be eaten. Just broken," Midna shrugged.

"Can you track the pieces? If they were gathered, could we unbreak the faerie?" Zelda asked.

"Maybe," Midna yawned, stretching like a seven-year old (monster) child.

"Tracking or unbreaking? Which is uncertain?" Impaz growled.

"We can find the pieces," Midna said confidently, before placing a hand on the man's bicep. He glanced down at the touch, a moment before his face was washed in pain too terrible to scream from, and he changed, absorbing the Interloper into his flesh. A man began the fall to the chamber floor, but it was a giant wolf that landed on all four paws. He shook himself, like a wet dog, before he snorted at Ilia, and crouched, to let the girl climb onto his back.

Then the game began.

((()))

Hanch rubbed at his eyes. His watch was almost finished. Exhaustion tugged at him, trying to lull him into sweet, sweet slumber. But he didn't. He kept watch. He wasn't brave like Rusl, or strong like Fado, but he was dependable. If he said he would do something, then he did, damn it. His wife would be quick to point out that he rarely spoke though—

Something moved in the far distance, leaving the edge of the distant northern forest, breaking Hanch's internal monologue.

"Something on the road!" he called from atop the wall.

It looked like a horse.

((()))

Link slowed to a trot, and then a full stop. A loose wedge of killers fanned out on either flank. He barely glanced at them, as they edged forward past him.

The scent trail had begun to criss-cross and interrupt itself, in the recession of the shallow valley. A hill rose at the far end, and trees lined the slopes of the valley. Many of those trees had been snapped midway as if from carelessness, the tops scattered and trampled like chaff across the floor of the valley. The quarry routinely moved about this area.

Or at least, it had recently.

As a shepherd, Link distrusted the place. It was a dangerous location to risk bringing livestock. Too many hiding places for predators to use in advancing on the herd. Even if Link was one of those predators now, he was still a shepherd at heart.

The princess spoke with her shadow-bitch, their foreheads only inches apart. With a nod, the one Link wished to sink his teeth into strutted past him, confident in her own safety, due to her power.

Link was not so certain she was beyond attack.

"It's ahead," Midna said, still merged with Link.

"Veran, you know what to do," The princess whispered.

The old shadow-woman remained near the princess, Link noted casually.

Ilia twisted her handfuls of fur nervously, which hurt a little. Link ignored the discomfort. Midna had not mentioned one thing.

The monster was big.

They would figure that out fairly quickly.

He owed them no favors.

The ground shook, and Link realized how big.

There was no hill at the end of the valley.

That was its back.

Link lay down, ready to run at a moment's notice, ears pricked, as he watched the battle unfolding.

It was not going well for the shadow-bitch.

That was really too bad, Link thought calmly.

"I'm hungry again…" Midna reminded him.

They could eat later. This was more entertaining.

Reluctantly, Midna decided that it was almost as fun as eating.

A black figure was thrown bodily through the air nearly eighty paces, when a massive back-hand connected.

It looked like it had hurt. Link yawned, and rested his muzzle on his paws. An ache was developing behind his eyes. And his limbs had begun to feel like lead.

((()))

Princess Zelda watched her vassals fight the monster.

She could end this battle in a few minutes.

If she did, every Interloper would feel her magic within several miles, and fall upon them. She swallowed her frustration, and projected confidence. She trusted her sheikah. They could do this.

But the sheikah were not above injury.

Zelda glared at where the shadow wolf lounged, affecting boredom with the current proceedings. His power would not be sensed, and he was as strong, or stronger than Zelda.

He could finish this battle almost by himself, if he chose.

But he didn't. He was neither friend nor foe to her.

He was most certainly not a friend of the sheikah.

The great Interloper they fought resembled a tortoise, with a multitude of powerful limbs that could randomly erupt from the surface of the shell, to smite or snatch at the darting sheikah.

So far there had been no fatalities, but many of her warriors were fighting with broken limbs, or cracked ribs.

They were winning, though slowly.

Some would have died, if not for Ilia.

"Help them. Please," Ilia whispered into the wolf's fur, trying to cover her ears.

The wolf flicked an ear back at her, but did not move.

"Please. They're getting hurt," Ilia pleaded.

It took a few more minutes before the wolf reluctantly rose to his feet, and Ilia slipped off his back. The wolf turned, to stare long into the girl's eyes, clearly frustrated by his lack of speech.

Ilia hugged the shaggy head before letting go. The wolf seemed to roll his eyes, before licking Ilia's cheek.

Then he darted off towards the battle.

((()))

"It is coming," Saria said, loosely holding the green medallion beneath her tunic. She stood within the crown of the dead Deku tree, staring off at the approaching clouds.

"Aye. They will make for Faron's spring," Mido agreed, testing the keenness of his stone dagger.

Saria smiled, her face full of childish innocence, her voice like a gentle breeze: "Yes. And we will kill them all."

Mido smiled as well.

The Hylians had once called them demons.

They were not wholly wrong.

Nor wholly right.

The Kokiri were. They cared little for the labels of outsiders. They were the forest.

The Twilight was coming. It had laid low much of the surrounding lands, destroyed their faeries, and shackled their spirits of light.

The enemy was reckless. Hungry. Impatient.

"Faron will not hide within his spring," Mido chuckled.

"No. He will not," Saria agreed coyly.

The Outsiders moved with reckless abandon, against victims unprepared for their savagery, and attacks.

The Lost Woods stood ready for attack. It had stood ready for generations.

Kokiri and skull kids had played and trained for this day, or at least, a day like it.

The spirits of light drew power from the lights of those that lived within their lands. It colored, and changed those guardian spirits. As those lights were extinguished, the spirits grew weaker.

As long as those lights burned however…

Faron might not be the most powerful of spirits… (for the Kokiri were not a plentiful race) but his power also could not be so easily stolen. He would face the Interlopers in all his glory; not in desperate defense on his knees as had befallen the other spirits of light…

((()))

This was proving difficult, Veran allowed. She thrust a palm forward, slapping a questing limb aside, then pointed her index finger at what she guessed was something sensitive. A lance of shadow stabbed forth, piercing deeply, but doing nothing more than enraging the strange enemy. Several of the younger sheikah had already suffered debilitating injury. If this continued, then—

A blur of fur flashed past only inches from Veran, making her curse in surprise.

And fear.

She hadn't sensed the wolf's proximity.

He was making a point. She would have no warning if he chose to attack her.

No. Not if. When.

Veran shakily watched the wolf simply crash through several of the turtle's attacks, and sink his jaws deeply into the forehead of the turtle, before ripping the mouthful free.

The turtle erupted into a frenzy of flailing strikes, but the wolf trotted away, with a writhing bit of Interloper still in his jaws, unconcerned.

Light weakly spilled from the mass of shadow flesh in the wolf's jaws. A fragment of the great faerie.

"Fall back!" Veran snarled.

They had no need to kill this creature. They had what they'd come for.

Besides, the creature was too slow to catch them in a chase.

The wolf spat the lump of meat at Princess Zelda's feet, as the hylian girl rushed to the wolf, and curled her fists in his fur.

Zelda crouched, and slipped her hand into the gore, gently teasing the fragment of the Great Faerie free. The essence of Light gratefully slipped into Zelda, whose natural affinity for Light magic would act as a buffer between the fragment, and the acidic nature of the Twilight realm. She would serve as a vessel, until the faerie could be remade.

In that singular moment, Zelda felt something stir within her. Beneath the contemplation, the anger, and the sense of powerlessness that had been imposed upon her with the fall of her lands.

Hope.

She held the damaged, injured creature that clung so desperately to her psyche like an infant to a mother, terrified and frightened by a world without reason save one: here was safety.

She looked up into the blue eyes that watched her so dispassionately. The shadow wolf did not show expressions as a human could, but in his eyes, she saw that he had felt it as well, when carrying the fragment to her.

When he opened his mouth to pant though, Zelda saw the burns that coated his tongue and jaws.

His power could not endure light.

Or rather, Midna's power, wielded through him, could not endure light.

((()))

The village stood in readiness, as the thick wooden gates within the palisade wall opened. The battered and injured creature that limped inside was almost unrecognizable. Shallow cuts and burns had marred the chestnut fur with black and red. Nettles and burs had also become tangled with the fur and the mane.

That being said however, Rusl had seen few horses built as solidly as Epona.

What drew Rusl's gaze however, was the broken arrow in the horse's leg.

Clearly something had gone very wrong with Ilia and Link's journey.

"Rusl. It's bad, isn't it?" Bo asked calmly, his face locked into a mask of blankness. He was mayor for good reason. He could panic and rage later. There was a crisis at hand to deal with first.

"We need to tend to Epona's injuries, and keep a careful watch on the walls. We may be attacked at any moment," Rusl said darkly.

"Those who stay will die," a child whispered weakly.

Rusl spun, drawing steel upon the trembling creature that clung to the palisade wall for support. A kokiri. It wasn't the one that had spoken with him earlier, Saria. This one was dressed differently, with a chest wrap and loincloth, instead of a single piece dress/tunic. Her mask was also different.

Bo had not seen a kokiri before, but he knew that they could not leave the forest. To do so would mean death.

"And where should we go that is safer than here?" Bo asked levelly, gesturing to the walls around the ranch.

"The forest. Hide," the demon whispered unsteadily.

Bo studied the creature thoughtfully.

"Very well," he turned to the assembled villagers, "Make ready to leave, gather supplies, and anything of immediate use, we leave—"

"—Now. They are almost here," the flagging kokiri wheezed with renewed intensity.

"Who?" Bo asked.

"Moblins," the demon spat, loathing dripping from her lips.

At that moment, Hanch succeeded in pulling the arrow from Epona's leg, before he began to clumsily poultice and bandage the wound. Rusl crouched, and picked up the discarded section of arrow, studying the head. It was made from iron, the shape crude, as if with improper tools and unsteady heat. Rusl had seen similar arrows during his service as a soldier.

"This arrow is probably of moblin or bulblin make," Rusl said, looking to Bo.

"Save Talo," the demon whimpered, before crumpling to the dirt.

Bo came to a decision.

"We make for the forest. Now."

((()))

Ilia hid from her fear of the blankness in her mind, clinging to the physical comfort of the wolf she rode. The wolf that was really a man she did not know.

She knew his eyes, but not his heart.

He moved as if he knew her.

And her body moved as if it knew him too, familiar things that were not familiar. His fingers would touch her cheek, and her body would automatically respond without conscious decision, pressing against his palm. She felt as if she was watching a pair of dancers, that knew their dance, but she could only watch, and try to learn. Touches she did not know, but were casual instructions her body understood: turn here, come closer, go that way, look that way, face me, or I have something of note to say.

It confused her.

And that confusion frightened Ilia, which made her uncomfortable around the man, even if her body was not.

The man made no overt demands, and seemed cautious of taking any liberties, when he thought about it, but he too seemed victim to unconscious commands, or blind to the implications of some motions he seemed to think acceptable.

The wolf though brought no confusion with him. He was safe, in more ways than one. His touch was unknown. He did not illicit reactions without reason. He could not make demands. She had a say, a voice with him.

The wolf stumbled beneath her.

Ilia pulled her face from the jolting fur, and noticed how his flanks were heaving. He was growing weary. Something was wrong.

((()))

Link could barely see through the headache that had been growing behind his eyes, and every loping stride had slowly become harder.

Even in this state, Link still retained his wits. It was not physical weakness, for Ilia's weight did not hinder him. It almost seemed as if his will to move his limbs was lessening. Like running in a nightmare. The harder one fought to run with greater speed, the slower those limbs seemed to become.

They had been running for a long time, and fighting too. Many strange creatures. Some that had mimicked trees, lizards, spiders… even a fish (all of unnatural shape or size, however).

This was the last direction. The echoing sense of agony unending that laced this scent… it was the last. The other echoes had fallen silent within their scent trails after their consumers had been relieved of their prizes. Physically such a thing made no sense, the scents should have remained the same, all new scents should have lacked the echo… but this was the Twilight. It only resembled the world Link knew.

He had also avoided touching the fragments directly, after the first.

It had filled him with a sense of… like cradling a life in his arms. He had felt powerful.

Only when he surrendered the shard to the princess had Link felt the pain of the burns. A dangerous thing, for his other wounds healed quickly (those inflicted by shadowy claws and teeth), but the simple burns and blisters of the faerie lingered on. They were trivial compared to what he had endured so far… but they would not go away.

Link tripped and fell, yelping as he felt his body begin to roll. He wasn't as large as a horse, but he was still heavy, he would hurt Ilia if he rolled over her—

Her weight disappeared from his back, a moment before the shadow-scent filled his nose.

Link snarled and shakily wriggled back to his feet from the twilight ash.

Ilia stood nearby, she looked breathless and shaken, but unharmed.

Beside her stood another.

"I did not touch her," the female shadow said. Her injured arm was bound to her chest, where it would not become a liability. The one with knives.

The one he had thrown against the cliff wall with such force.

"I only touched her tunic," the girl said. She stood calmly, but her weight was balanced, and the twilight around her rippled slightly, as if for some spell. It had rippled in such a manner before her sudden appearance within the trap, when she made as if to stab Ilia with her knives. A magic that let her travel distances quickly without movement.

Link could feel the coiling rage in his belly next to the hunger, the aspects of himself that were magnified by the Interloper within him.

But it was not all that he was.

This one had prevented Ilia from being harmed.

Link would remember that.

Just as he would remember her earlier trickery. This was not some petty debt, to be settled by exchanging tokens between sides of a scale. This was more complicated by far.

Link nodded slowly, and the girl relaxed slightly. She still did not touch Ilia, instead she merely took two measured (but fluid) steps back, and waited. She took his oath to kill should any of her kind touch Ilia very seriously it seemed. Then again, she had felt his bite once already.

Wearily, Link turned, scenting the scent that was not a scent in this world, simply a trail of psychic aura. It felt different from the others. Fainter. Weaker.

They were close.

"Can we play a game yet?" Midna asked, bored. She had already traipsed through his memories several times, Link knew.

The novelty of playing wolf had also worn off. Remaining in one consistent shape for so long seemed to also have worsened her mercurial moods.

At the moment, she was bored, but that could turn to casually murderous in the bat of an eye. The others didn't realize that, as most of the emotional changes were hidden behind Midna's alien façade… they did not know how frequently thoughts of killing for her own inexplicable reasons darted through her mind.

But Link knew.

((()))

The villagers, goats, and a very weary horse reached the eastern pasture which lay roughly a mile from the ranch, before the sound of distant thunder reached them, from a cloudless sky. Rusl looked back, hand on his sword. Uli rode in the hand cart that Fado was pulling with his typical tireless energy (injured shoulder largely ignored), next to the dying kokiri.

The faint sounds of squealing and shouts reached them next.

"They smashed down the gates," Rusl guessed. An impressive feat. Unless they had bulbos (giant boars bred by the moblins for war mounts).

If they did have bulbos though…

"We must increase our pace," Rusl said harshly.

The moblins would search the small ranch quickly, and realize that the occupants weren't hiding within.

Then they would send out scouts to find the villagers and kill them. If they didn't they risked pursuit by soldiers. Soldiers would pursue them regardless, but it was harder to track a quarry based on gutted ruins, only noticed if stumbled upon or when the settlement's silence became noticed, then it was from an eye witness that actively sought out and brought word of the moblin's position to the hunters.

The villagers were slowed by Epona, and Uli. One from injury, the other from late pregnancy… the herd was also quite visible in the knee-high grasses of the pasture, the moblins had only to climb up onto a wall, and look out to see—

A horn began to blow, a deep, throaty noise. At this distance Rusl couldn't make out anyone standing on the wall, but he did not doubt they had been seen.

It was still another half mile to the forest edge.

A journey that would take them five to ten minutes.

The enemy would probably only need half that time to reach and kill them.

((()))

Zelda warily watched the weakening wolf, as it came to a trembling halt. Ilia stood beside the wolf, one hand clenched in the fur of his nape. She stared down at the wolf, as it began to convulse. Then the form blurred, washing into the separate quasi shape of Midna, leaving a gasping man on hands and knees behind. Ilia snatched her hand away from the man's neck, surprised.

Zelda drew closer to the man.

"What have you done?" Zelda asked Midna, concerned. If he should die, where then would his Triforce go?

"It wasn't me," Midna shrugged absently, before pantomiming some kind of children's game, her alien eyes furrowed with intensity, as she tried to mimic the motions.

"The last fragment is close. That way," the man said thickly, pointing a trembling finger ahead of him.

His lips were burned. Not as badly as the wolf's, but they looked red and scalded. Certainly painful, but not dangerous.

"Veran, take half of the Sheikah and scout along that route," Zelda said, pointing in the direction the man had indicated. The woman nodded, and departed in a swirl of billowy cloth.

((()))

"Faster Fado, faster!" Rusl shouted, pounding along beside the panting giant. Fado hadn't slowed due to the weight he was pulling, he simply wasn't a runner. He could sprint, but had little patience for the mile. The cart was jolting terribly, Rusl saw, but his guilt at how white Uli's face had become faired poorly against his fear of the oncoming bulbos behind them. Only three of the great beasts had been dispatched.

One of the riders carried a bow.

Thankfully a bulbos is an unsteady mount, especially for archery, and the moblin archer had not loosed any shafts at them. Not yet at least. He would probably wait until the distance was far less than the current two hundred paces.

Rusl looked ahead to the trees in the distance. The leading edge of goats and villagers had just reached it… leaving only the slowest in peril.

Rusl could not simply stop, and face the foe. They would run him down, without slowing, and smash into Fado. He was… useless.