Time and Again

Sleeping Stones

A half dozen turnips, three potatoes, strip of dried meet, and pat of hard cheese. That was the menu Sneak had assembled for them in the city after they'd left the castle behind. And goodly-squat it did them after their third day away from the grimy, grubby, noisy city.

The first night wasn't so bad, there'd been too much to watch for. Beyond the city's half-crumbled walls stood- or rather, leaned- another half-mile or more of shanty houses and rag-molting shacks. Sneak'd felt dwarfed in the city, never mind their detour through the ruins, but even he was beginning to feel mighty tall by the time the muddied ground was the only cover for the moth-eaten peasant-folk. And the rank stench of them was just- ugh!

"Your people." He'd remarked sharply towards Pegleg, having spotted the greater number of the slum-folk to be little more than a swarm of dumb-bred. The lame boy hadn't done much more than simper and go red-eyed at the sight of them at that point, but the sentiments had faded as the dust and stink started getting to the lot of them. They were hacking, coughing and sneezing by the time they were over the first hills, and browned grass scrubbed against the soles of their socked feet.

Socked feet. Bad idea. All of them were so outrageously sore by the time the sun hadn't even touched the western horizon that they dropped down on the side of the road- remembering only by chance to tie the mule up to a nearby wooden post- and fell dead asleep. A proper pair of boots or shoes should never have been over-looked, and Sneak's feet made sure to remind him of that oversight every bleeding time he put his bloody foot down on the burning ground.

They broke from the main road on their second day away from the city. He knew that they were heading north, and that eventually they'd be striking west across the territory of the northern races. So, to that effect they followed against the flow of the Hylia River- the main waterway across the kingdom which led south down toward the massive lake of the same name. The murky grey was silent and forbidding; snaking across the dusty plains alongside a road so old the wagon-ridges had vanished from seasons of rain and wind.

But it was that second night outside of the city which provided the greatest shocker of their journey.

"You can't start a bloomin' fire!?" Useless. Completely and utterly useless! Any mental fool could get a fire back from embers, but Sneak couldn't bloody well do it from grass and sticks!

They had to make do without a fire, which, bringing back to an earlier point, left turnips and potatoes effectively out of the running for something to eat after a painful and agonizing day of trekking along the uneven and rock-riddled road. They had to settle for chewing the dried meat- that tasted more like stringy leather- and trying to breath around the fist-sized lump of cheese that broke apart like bits of salt on their tongues. At least the river water was clean, and they were able to both flood their bellies with the icy cold and sooth their blistering feet in the current. The mule was also given a good brushing down, something the others seemed surprised with Sneak for volunteering to do. But he wasn't about to tell them he'd stolen a handful of oats from the creature's feed bag while at it.

No one travelled to or from Zora and Goron joint-territory anymore, and after another four days of travel the trend was getting on Sneak's nerves. They started losing the road, several times over an hour in the worst places, going a long stretch before being lost again. By the end they were following the river alone, up to their noses in ruddy fields of wild grass, or down to their knees in mud and swamp. The weather was quick to heat up on the road though. And as miserable as it could be to shuffle along under the harsh white rays, at least it meant they didn't freeze at night without the fire.

Even three peasant boys could get away without a bit of woodcraft on the beaten road. But when they left those assured paths behind there was a danger they hadn't realized until they were plenty of days to the north. In his defence, Sneak had put up a mighty fuss about sleeping on the edge of unbroken pasture, but the two ninnies he'd dragged along were intent on not continuing on toward the woods that were still just a black line along in the distance. There'd been nothing for it, but he let the rotten mule settle itself without a goodly brushing as he wrapped his too-long cloak around himself and dropped down on the tangled grasses. Sneak didn't want to sleep out in the open tonight, something bad was going to happen; he just knew it. But would those two listen? Of course not...

When the bad thing happened, it happened quietly. At first he thought he was just grinding his teeth too loudly, but then Sneak realized he'd been clenching them, not grinding. The other two were asleep, or he assumed so, but the sound was still there.

It was black as pitch until a cloud blew over, the moon shedding enough light for him to suddenly see. Pushing himself to sit up right, the sound stopped, and there was only the hushed whisper of the tall grass waving lazily over his head. He suddenly didn't like being unable to see around him- he felt like a castle mouse that could hear the fire being lit just outside its hole... Or better yet, the mangy cat padding about over-head.

There- he could hear it again! Something low, grinding, like stones moving roughly over one another, soil splitting... But he couldn't see anything, only the silvery flutes of the grass. But he could hear-!!

"Get up!" Sneak shouted, his voice hitching in his throat as he clawed at the grass and tumbled forward. "Get up, both of you- wake up!" He couldn't even see them in the grass. Instead, he felt something big and hairy buck up under his hands as the mule gave a shriek.

"Wut... wut's goin' on..!?" Pegleg, that was who that was, the lame boy had taken to sleeping on or at least near the creature that carried him throughout the day. Sneak whipped aside the curtain of grass between the two of them watching the scribe's eyes stare towards him blindly through the glare of his specs. Why was the night suddenly so quiet?

"N-Nightmare..?" Why that stupid rotten glass-eyed lame-legged slurring little-! He wasn't having a night-!

heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee... Th-There it was again!

"B-B-Boss!!"

"Pegleg!"

"Sneak?!"

"Whimpers!?"

"AAAAHHHHH!!" The ground bloody damn well moved!!

It split open right between the three of them! Sneak was stunned on one knee, his arm frozen against the grass as Pegleg fell back with a shriek, tangling himself in the reins as the mule gave an echoing scream and began floundering around trying to get up. The dopey animal's eyes were a panicked white, and Sneak found himself only a breath behind boy and beast.

It didn't just move, that bare patch in the middle of their grassy camp where a fire ought to've been, it jumped and split open! A rattling breath and the stink of rotting fur and bone blew out through the grass, causing Sneak's stomach to fall right through. He didn't know what colour they were, the two points of light that formed as the stink grew stronger and curled horns appeared. But it was terrifying as shoulders hunched and wrenched themselves from the ground, those horns hanging limply from the sides of a blackened, motley head.

Teeth, hooves, horns- knife, knife, knife! Sneak's heart was beating so hard and fast in his chest he thought it'd burst! He felt frozen in place as he reached up and started clawing at his own tunic and vest. Tangled in his own cloak, his fingers closed coldly around the over-worn hilt and Sneak pulled the short blade up right next to his ear like he'd stab the thing if it came any closer. He'd known something bad was gonna happen! He'd just known!

"Pegleg! Get on the Royal-Damned thing! Now!" He shrieked, still able to hear the caterwauling of the mule as the lame boy was falling over himself still in the corner of Sneak's eye. The beast in front was tossing its head around, clods of earth speckling off as its eyes were spinning in their glowing sockets. He didn't want to know if it was the grinding of the earth that'd spat the hellion out he could still hear, or just the clopping of the wet and rotting bones under its half-eaten hide.

Th-there! He could lunge and drive it right into the creature's glowing eye! He could if he- if he…! C-Could- he couldn't move!

His hands went numb and there was a dull thunk, the knife striking the ground, uselessly falling from his grasp. What wits he had screamed at him, but Sneak was clawing back, floundering through the grass in too much of a panic to care. He was gonna die! He was gonna die!

"HIIYAAAAAA!!" He only just caught the flash of moonlight off the blade before Whimpers vanished again behind the lumbering undead. The creature gave a wild convulse though and Sneak gave another scream of his own as he saw a sword blade stuck into the beast's hind-quarters. There was no time to think, Whimpers' hand around the hilt as he stepped right on the undead as it floundered in the broken earth, jumping and taking the blade with him again. Sneak felt a hand close tightly o his arm and the next moment he was scrambling and kicking trying to get to his feet as the other boy started dragging him.

It didn't work that way for very long though, once Sneak was out of the sight of those hellish eyes, he was certainly well enough to turn and get his legs back in working order. The hand on his arm let him go, letting him run properly without being turned around awkwardly, and after that it was just wind and tall grass.

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee... N-No it wasn't!

There was more rumbling and wet, sloppy grunts around them as they ran, but Sneak didn't stop to look for those glowing yellow eyes. When his sight darted over the husks of the grasses he wasn't searching out the lopsided horns- he was looking for the trees.

Right, left, right, left, twisting, turning, and running all the while. Sneak couldn't even feel his feet striking the loamy earth, only praying he didn't suddenly find himself ankle-deep in mud as the grass whipped past his face, slicing at his hands. There was too much noise, but at the same time not enough. The night was silent but the earth was alive. He was running as fast as his legs would carry him, but Sneak still felt so slow…

"This way!" It was his turn to grab at the other boy this time, tearing Whimpers nearly off his feet as Sneak took his arm from behind and yanked him sharply to their left again. It was so hard to see, but they were running further into the field- far from the river and in the wrong direction from the woods! He knew it, and whether or not Whimpers agreed with him wasn't to be questioned; they ran. And a few more wind-swept moments after there was the shriek of a very alive mule, more screams and shouts and blubbering from Pegleg, and then it ended.

It was so stupid, so suddenly over and done with. The whispering silver of the grass turned into the nettled underbrush of the forest, and then the rumbles stopped, the moaning faded. Sneak kept going, the unfamiliar scent of pine and soil ramming up his nose as his socked feet abruptly tangled and tripped over twisted roots and hidden stones. He found himself on his belly bent over a large humped stump before his legs stopped moving, bile flaring up his throat from terror and the force of collapsing his stomach against the obstacle. Sneak didn't want to know what there was to chuck-up, but as he slid back and hit the forest floor, and stared up through the branches, he thought he was going to die.

He heard someone breathing out of sync with him; Whimpers. And, ironically enough, a soft whimpering and crying- that was Pegleg. He didn't want to listen for anything louder than that, didn't have the strength to scrub at his mouth or eyes and hide the traces of his fear. And as he looked up at the starless sky- a bit of blue only a shade lighter than the tree branches scratched across it- he almost wondered if moulding wood and dusty stones weren't better...

Whimpers' first impression was the feel of his mum's warm fingers gently grazing the side of his face... But there was no smell of baking cakes this time, or familiar sounds of his dad's workshop, or the horses whinnying under Lachlan's care. Instead, it was the alien trill of some sort of bird high overhead, and the strong smell of uncut, unseasoned, fresh and living wood. So, not wood at all- trees.

Sitting up groggily, Whimpers couldn't remember what'd happened, only how his arm was aching terribly. His hand felt twisted out've place, like he'd strained the muscles of his wrist and thumb grabbing or yanking on something. And his shoulder was just-! ...Ugh.

"Where're we?" He slurred groggily, looking around beady-eyed in the sunshine as everything was eerie-quiet. The distant drone of insects, another trill high overhead from the birds, but aside from that, nothing. The sun was brilliant as it scattered down from the budding branches overhead, but there was nothing really alive and fleshed out yet, too soon into the new spring for anything more than the warming sunshine and lack of rain.

His back was hurting too from the stones that'd rammed into his spine in the night. His cloak was all knotted around him, and he didn't feel rested at all after the night spent... wait, they hadn't settled in the woods too-

"'bought time you got up." Looking around as he wasn't in the mood to go jumping up at Sneak's voice, Whimpers stifled a yawn as the smaller boy seemed to materialize from out under a nearby bush. He had that furious red flush across his face again, something Whimpers was getting used to ignoring since it wasn't hard to come by when around the wry ringleader. Despite never having gotten to know him, Whimpers wouldn't have minded having Boss at the head of their ram-shackle party instead of Sneak...

"What're you so cheerful for?" Whimpers asked, reminding himself that despite Sneak's temper, he normally didn't wake up so wretchedly. The other boy seemed to prefer to have something set him off instead.

"Oh, like you don't know!" And with that, their conversation was over. Whimpers watched him cross the small glade- wait, it wasn't a glade. Just some gap between trees- hadn't they stopped somewhere else? Either way, he didn't know where Pegleg was until he noted the other boy reach down and give a rude shake on a sleeping, needle-coated lump he'd thought was just another tree. The scribe gave a weak cry, sounding almost fearful for a moment before rolling over, his light hair was tousled and looked greasy even from a good set of paces away. Whimpers couldn't help but wonder why Sneak and himself just seemed to get more dusty and dirty while the lowblood just greased up... Ick...

"S-Sneak! Sneak!" Despite the thin black line that became of Sneak's mouth, there was no outraged hollering or fist-throwing from the scrappy youth as Pegleg seemed to be fighting with himself to keep back tears. What was wrong with that one?

"Where's the river?" He asked sleepily, shaking his head out of the foggy stupor of half-sleep. He couldn't smell the fresh water nearby, so despite the pangs in his stomach asking for something more than dried meat and hard cheese- of which they were running out- that was more important to him. The river ran south, they were following it north. That didn't work without a river.

"W-What?" Whimpers said, feeling defencive as the other two just looked at him like he'd said something completely out've the blue and insane. What? He'd asked a legitimate question, bugger off to the both of them then... This treasure hunt was turning into a wild-goose chase, they should've already found something by now, shouldn't they?

The mule was missing, but not for very long as Whimpers was left sitting with Pegleg for a few minutes as Sneak ran off to catch the blasted thing- it came within sight of them up a ridge and Sneak seemed to have the most energy for bringing it back. The dopey animal came peacefully enough at least, but when Whimpers spotted Sneak chewing on something...

The feed bag was nearly empty by the time they were done going through the oats and grain that'd been parcelled up for it. They let the beast just chomp on some grasses and bushes.

"Those berries might be good." Whimpers mentioned, looking over the bush with its few thorns. The pack creature'd already chomped on the better part of the bush, but there were several clusters of red and blue berries left. Looking over his shoulder at Sneak, the other boy was picking any dropped oats off the ground and stuffing them in his mouth before looking over. Licking off his fingers as he stood, Whimpers watched the other boy nonchalantly pat at his chest for his knife- probably to hack off a branch.

Instead of going through with that though, Sneak froze; his hand over his right breast. An oddly confused look overcame his features, and for a few moments Whimpers was amused watching Sneak pat himself down several times, spinning in circles even and nearly tripping over his own cloak before his face flushed in anger and he looked out through the trees.

"You lost it?" Sneak without his knife? Too funny!

"SHUT UP!" Red and grubby faced, hands fisted at his sides, Sneak's outburst cut off any other retorts from Whimpers. It actually wasn't a good thing to laugh about; without Sneak's little blade they were down to just one- the heavy sword strapped across his back... he'd probably have to start taking better care of it then, Lachlan'd given him a whet stone to sharpen the blade on, and it was currently tucked into a small pouch at his belt with an oiled cloth for much the same purpose.

Well, as Sneak began stomping off in a random direction, Whimpers sighed and looked around at Pegleg. Surprisingly, the Scribe was up on the mule's back without any help from him, his walking stick oddly missing from in front of him on the saddle- when'd they started being so forgetful? He couldn't see either the blade or the old table leg on the ground, but Sneak was already getting too far ahead: no time to search and make a proper sweep for it.

That was their morning, and set the tone for the rest of that day until they reached the river again. They started off slow in the morning, but always tended to do that, and were out've the woods with pockets full've nuts and s'more berries the mule tried to nibble by noon. Reasonably full then, Whimpers noticed how the mountains visible from the city walls had jumped towards them since they'd set out. It was an eerie feel, the sensation of crossing the Golden Land all on their own. It kinda made him think of how small their kingdom must really have been... Not good thoughts at all. Everyone knew that beyond Hyrule's boarders there was nothing but marauders and bandits, frightening monsters and alien societies too far removed from their own to be trusted...

It wasn't fun, the idea of leaving their nation behind, it wasn't fun at all. From a distance, from Lachlan and his father's stable, it'd been... magical? It'd been an adventure to riches and stuff. None of this sleeping on stones and eating dirty nuts and horse feed. They were supposed to be on a noble, whirl-wind quest to find precious gems and ride back to town as kings. Instead, he was stuck with bleeding feet tripping over roots and boulders. He was sleeping next to a dirty-blooded wretch with a lame leg. As nice as Pegleg might've been in the castle, he was miserable travelling company; at least he got to ride instead of walk... And what was more; they still had a full pack of food. But could they eat it? No.

Lachlan'd given him a pot to stew the meat and potatoes in, or at least boil them and the turnips. But they couldn't light a fire- he could do it in a fire pit alright, with bits of wood shavings and warm embers and scraps of cloth his mum didn't want anymore. Sneak was the same in that regard- he could kindle a dying flame, had complained with Pegleg endlessly already about how starting a fire with cold hunks of wood wasn't the same as leaning over dry stacks of twigs with a candle, or taking a shovel full of red embers from another oven and tossing them on to make a blaze. But to just build one from scratch was entirely different- they couldn't even get smoke!

Still, no matter how disenchanted Whimpers was beginning to feel, those mountains were steadily creeping closer and closer to them. It even got to the point where he thought he could look up in mid day and see a haze of red in the distance. There were legends about the red land north of Hyrule, like how the monstrous creatures who lived there ate boulders, and found Hylian flesh to be a delicacy... Whimpers really didn't think this was a good idea anymore- had he ever been fully for it though?

The further they travelled, the less they began to see the large copses of trees and signs of there ever having been a road. Boulders started appearing though, and for one reason or another that was what they took to sleeping on at night. The other two just seemed completely against any notion of sleeping on the open ground, but frankly since the ground was becoming pebbled and cracked, he didn't care enough to argue after the first night. Boulder was hard for obvious reasons, but free of random stones and sticks and twigs that could bite into him when he rolled over. Those boulders became so frequent in fact that by the end of it that was how they were navigating- they began losing the river frequently, a real worrying sign as it would dip under gullies and be too dangerous to follow the stone banks of. The roads were all long gone now adays, but the stones were still there. They'd been blasted, rolled, or even carved onto as road markers, something that shocked Whimpers as he rolled over onto a face one morning when Sneak was going on about not wanting to eat scrub grass again.

Pegleg had called the onion-shape a goron head. Not a literal head of a goron, just an outline of one on the rock, so old and worn away that nothing was there anymore save the slight indent of two eyes and the pointed head. It unnerved him even more than the mountains they were cresting the foothills of, and sometimes at sunset Whimpers fancied he could see the towers of the castle... But that was just fancy- the broken spires of the royal city had faded from sight only two days from the walls...

Every time they lost the river it brought a lot of skittish feelings for all three of them, and even the mule seemed bothered by it- but there was something even more troubling even when the river was right there next to them. It was cold.

No, not the air, the weather. They noticed it slowly at first, how they'd wake up wrapped tightly in their cloaks instead of splayed across their backs. The nights were always warm during early spring in the city and castle, but they'd been on an incline for days and the nights were... nippy... downright chilling in fact. And it was a big, big, big problem. Pegleg's complaining of his sore leg and aching back became more audible, and as much as Whimpers wanted to snap at him to get off the mule and walk then, without his stick that just wasn't going to happen. Sneak mourned the loss of his knife for days, but it was that stupid hunk of wood that Whimpers wanted back...

The river wasn't the same murky grey anymore either, instead Whimpers could look down and see straight to the stony bottom. It grew slimmer as they travelled along it too, faster in places, roaring like thunder, or slow, almost trickling despite the winter thaw that made it flood several times as they moved. They came across splits that had to be crossed, tributaries funnelling down into the main flow. They always stuck to the largest one though, or at least when they lost it that was always what they came back to. Whichever one was going more northerly. But the thing about the river went back to how clear it was. It was frustrating for him to be taunted several times by the water, and how he could often see the silver scales of fish flash by.

That was just infuriating. They could catch as much fish as they wanted or knew how- how hard could it be?- but unless one of them turned out to be a cat, it wouldn't do them any good to have raw, scaly meat in their pack. They'd run out've both meat and cheese days ago, about the time they'd finally eaten the raw turnips and potatoes, but Whimpers was sure he'd never had to tighten his belt so much before. Sneak didn't lose any weight though, or act any differently, but the constant hunger pains weren't something Whimpers'd ever grown up with, or gotten used to even for his brief stay in the castle kitchens... this was slow murder.

They could always hear the water before they saw it again, always. But this time it was different. They'd been going up hill without the guiding flow for nearly two days, and their skins were running on empty again. Lacking food was bad enough, but no water would truly be the death of them.

They ran out've road, and had somehow scaled the side of a massive waterfall without knowing it. They came up the stone and gravel path to see the river gush out've a massive stone wall, flowing only a few scarce feet before plummeting over a high edge. It made the current fast and dangerous since it was such a narrow canal.

And he used the word canal because despite the origins of the water's path, the opening was not completely natural. Strange swirls of blue and violet were all around the mouth of the cave, carved into the stone and painted vividly and with a fluid nature to them that just staring at them for too long made Whimpers feel dizzy. Aside from the paintings there was also clear masonry; the lip of the cave edged in tiled stones, and there was even a fair path along one side of the rapid flow for foot-traffic. It was old though, with lichen growing in the cracks, but it was there none-the-less, and in much worse condition than the painting or tiles... It didn't bode well...

"Well..." Sneak said after the three'd taken several minutes to stand and stare. What now? They were a bloody sight: feet in rags that'd bled more than once, a cripple with a thinning, shaky-legged mule under his weight. No woodcraft, hardly any money, food they couldn't cook, no maps or compasses or anything else to tell where they were exactly. The only thing Whimpers could really get his mind to focus on was the question; when exactly had they crossed from one land to the other? He couldn't tell, didn't know where the change could've been. When they started sleeping on boulders instead've under trees? After their rations had turned to scrub grass and roots instead of cheese and meat? This was such a bad idea... bad idea... bad idea...!

"Well, c'mon! Git' a move on!" Sneak's voice became pushy again, the smaller boy actually pressing against Whimpers' shoulders to make him stumble forwards. For a moment he wasn't sure whether he was going to risk putting his sore and aching feet into the fast-flowing current, or take the decrepit path that was their only option aside from back-tracking. Hidden treasures always laid at the end of creepy paths, didn't they? They did in all the stories his dad had told him... But what about the monsters? Those always came just before the treasure- he didn't want to go in!

"Fine then." There was a... tug, a pull, and then the sound of hissing metal as Whimpers fought the weight on his back that threatened to tip him over onto his back. The next moment the weak sunlight overhead was shining off the blade of his sword, and Whimpers swore bitterly as the other boy slung it over his shoulder and-

"Are you mental!? Give that back!" He looked bloody stupid carrying that thing, the sword was small, Lachlan'd told him so, but Sneak was somehow small enough to make the weapon look much too big for him. Honestly! Sneak turned right around as he was called, needing both hands to get the flat of the blade off his shoulder as he stuck it down into the gravel ground. Whimpers grit his teeth- the ground was hard, and he'd been lax about maintaining it with that stone and cloth still...

"Then use it. Git. A. Move. On." Forget clenching, Whimpers was grinding his teeth as he took the blade up again, one-handed like it was supposed to be as Sneak ignored him and hollered back at Pegleg.

"Get a move on you whiny chit! You bloody-well cry more than Whimpers does, I oughta call you that instead then, shouldn' I?"

"Leave off, Sneak." He said tightly, hearing the wheezing breaths of the scribe as the mule began to plod forwards again. Honestly, what was he panting for? They were the ones walking.

Whimpers didn't want to go in there, he didn't want to keep going on this stupid treasure hunt, didn't want to battle horrible monsters or take care of the sword or sleep on rock or eat dirt or anymore of this! He didn't want to go! ...But the mule was already plodding forwards, and Sneak was capping their refilled skins in the swift flow, and he was holding their only weapon, and he had to walk...

Arthur wanted to go home...

Coldplay's new CD playing for about 9 hours last night really made this happen, yay!

Yay for speedy update, and I hope to get a foothold on Chapter Ten before I fly. Read and review, please and thank you!