Ri2: Specifically, it's the last time that Bicca will see her. What does that mean? (sly grin)
Saria thought that once she was gone, the two Wolfoses would forget her, and become independent and wild. This was not true in the least. They accepted her leaving, but they never forgot the soft touch of her hands, the gentle sound of her voice, her fresh, green scent...The years passed, and still the brothers knew that she was out there somewhere, perhaps nursing another litter. It didn't matter to them if she did not recognize them as her cubs. They would always know her as their mother, and they would always love her as that.
After two years of their independent life in the Forest Temple, Iamb and Bicca developed hyper-sensitivity to the Forest that surrounded their den, to a degree that members of their kind did not normally possess. Though they had never truly explored the Lost Woods, something in their blood told them that it was their land, and they prided themselves on knowing the forest's every smell and swish. If a sound awakened them, they knew almost instantly what it was and where it came from and how to respond. They could distinguish between the scream of dying prey and the shrill wails of the playful Skullkids. They knew to scent for storms when the wind gusted in the right direction. The brothers felt they knew all there was to know about their territory...except for one thing.
As their super-sense had developed, Bicca had been the first to notice the Darkness. The Darkness, as they called it, was a lingering, dark feeling, like an upset stomach that is sick enough to distract but not cause any real discomfort. It clung doggedly to the edges of their minds once they began to sense it, sometimes fading, never truly going away. At times it kept them from sleeping in either day or night, looming over their heads like a storm that has no intention of breaking. As they explored deeper and deeper into the Temple, they found that the Darkness grew stronger. Bicca was frightened by it; Iamb wanted to fight it away, kill it, if possible. But there was no fighting that which is only a feeling, and the two Wolfos brothers could only flex their claws in frustration and worry as the Darkness spread up from the darkest corners of the Forest Temple, and out from the roots of the trees of the Forest.
"Tell me, brother...Is the prey becoming more plentiful?"
Bicca looked up from the Skulltula he was in the middle of tearing apart. It was Iamb who had spoken. The big Wolfos was lounging across from his brother with a few Keese at his paws, his head tilted slightly to one side. Bicca looked down at his catch and thought carefully. He hadn't been paying attention before, but now he was quite sure that he and his brother were catching a large number of the monsters that lurked in the stone-den...and more seemed to be taking their places at an unusually high rate. Out of the entirety of the stone-den, their hunting range was comparatively small, but it was always full of things to hunt and eat.
"I think you're right, brother," he replied slowly. "I wonder if it has anything to do with the Darkness that has been spreading." He pawed the Skulltula, flipping it onto its back. The glow had died from its scarlet eyes in death, but there was something unsettling there—a sort of promise that more of the vicious spiders would follow it. "Still, it can't be all bad. More prey means more food for us."
Iamb sighed. "Yes, I suppose so." Then he went back to eating, leaving Bicca to feel as though he had missed some critical point his brother had been trying to make. He thought fast and on his paws, and Iamb's long and complex trains of thought were often lost on him. He sensed that this was another point where he and his brother differed: Iamb had a kind of deep and brooding intelligence, whereas he, Bicca, had a light and clever brain that kept him on his toes and darting ahead of everyone else.
The younger Wolfos scrabbled briefly for something to talk about, if only to distract himself from the nagging Darkness at the outskirts of his brain. "You'll never guess what I saw when I was walking through the picture-hall," he barked finally. Iamb frowned.
"I thought we agreed we would only go to places like that together," he growled. Bicca shrugged uncomfortably.
"I didn't want to wake you. You were taking a nap, remember? Anyway, I was down in the picture-hall, and the picture moved!" Bicca's tail wagged hopefully as Iamb's frown lifted. The big Wolfos looked interested.
"It moved? How?" he asked.
"Well, when I walked up the stairs, the picture was above the stairs—it was the picture with the blue Man, that one—but when I walked towards it, the picture left the frame!" Bicca explained excitedly. "I looked up the other stairs, and the picture was in the frame up there! Isn't that strange, brother?" (1)
Iamb's tail slapped the stone floor twice. "I'd like to see this," he murmured. "I don't think I've ever seen the picture move before. Are you sure it did?"
"As sure as I am that you have four paws and a tail," Bicca told him confidently. Iamb nodded and ripped another wing off one of his Keese. He chewed the leathery appendage with some difficulty, grunting warily each time he felt the grinding crunch of a breaking bone. Bicca understood his discomfort with chewing bones, as Iamb had spent nearly a moon in pain when a splinter of bone had found its way into the bare spot in his jaw. Eventually, the piece had worked its way loose, but the experience had left Iamb very hesitant to chew the bones of his prey.
"I was going to check it out again tonight," Bicca continued. "If you like, you can come with me and see for yourself. That way, we'll be together, like you say we should." He hoped that Iamb would accompany him on the second trip through the picture-hall. Seeing the moving portrait had scared him a little at first, but once the initial shock had worn off, he had found it to be a wonderful game. He had spent at least an hour darting up and down the staircases, chasing the moving image from frame to frame with puppyish glee. Bringing up Iamb's order that they should not explore the stone-den alone until they understood what the Darkness was, was a perfect way to get him to come along for the adventure.
Iamb took the bait Bicca had thrown him, and swallowed it in a single gulp. The larger Wolfos's eyes gleamed in the dim twilight, a bright and moony gold that sent chills down Bicca's spine. He had noted with great interest that as they had grown up, their eyes had completely changed color. Even his own two-toned eyes had become a uniform shade of yellow ochre.
"Finish eating," Iamb ordered, rising to his paws with a movement that was both heavy and graceful. "I don't have much appetite for these bony nuisances, anyway." He gave the small pile of Keese a kick with his hindpaw, scattering their dark bodies like leathery shadows. "When you're done, we'll go to the picture-hall and see this moving picture."
Bicca nodded and hurriedly thrust his muzzle into the Skulltula's cracked shell to lap out the white, sour meat. He felt Iamb's eyes burning the back of his neck and shuddered. Maybe it was the annoying tug of the Darkness at his mind that made Iamb so brisk and snappy, but Bicca was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable around his brother. He abandoned the half-empty carapace and trotted after his older brother; he wasn't finished eating yet, but something told him that if he kept Iamb waiting much longer, the burly Wolfos's temperament would not improve. Iamb seemed to have calmed down a little as he licked his brother's muzzle gently, removing scraps of meat and the Skulltula's body juices. Bicca returned the lick, and the two of them set off towards the stone hallway together.
It had taken a while, but Bicca had finally caught up to Iamb in height somewhat. Though still noticeably shorter, he was much larger than the mother would have remembered him being. The only thing that was unchanged was his lean physique, for though he was almost as tall as Iamb, he was still much lighter and less muscular. There was strength in his slender body, though, and he was just as capable of butting open closed doors with his shoulder as Iamb was. He had a special trick that made it easier for him, and that was to shove his shoulder under the knob and roll it backwards. Often times, he could heard the latch of the knob slide away from the door, and in those cases the door would open with a light push.
He used this trick to open the door to the picture-hall, leaving Iamb to stand in silent envy of his clever moves. The two Wolfoses padded in quietly, their eyes glowing slightly in the low light, and made their way up the stairs. The staircase was wide enough to accommodate them both at once, although Bicca moved slower to allow Iamb to walk a little ahead of him. This, he knew, was a surefire way to keep his brother happy: Submitting passively before the other Wolfos asserted himself. "Watch the picture, brother," Bicca whispered, and saw his brother's ears twitch. He could see the frame peeking above his brother's broad back and noted that the image was still there. Within a few steps, Iamb would reach that critical spot, and then the picture would laugh from far away and vanish. The younger Wolfos's ears pricked expectantly, ready to catch the whooshing sound of its laughter.
The image vanished with a haunting cackle, and suddenly Iamb raced forwards with a thunderous bark. The gray fur on his shoulders bristled sharply away from his body, and the muscles in his shoulder bulged as he struck out at the empty frame. Bicca yelped and darted up around his brother, howling excitedly and prancing back and forth. He couldn't understand why the big Wolfos had been so struck by the vanishing picture, but he figured he should help with the noise. Iamb whirled around, his eyes narrowed furiously.
"The Darkness is behind that picture, brother—I could smell it!" he snapped, tossing his head in agitation. "It was alive and pulsing! Something is coming!" He crouched on the stone floor, muscles rolling and bunching as he fought for control. Bicca watched in silent horror. Had the Darkness really reached a strength where it could be smelled? It was one thing to feel something, say an emotion, like fear. It was easy to feel fear, yes, but you could control your face and body so that none but the highly observant would see it. But once that fear reached a point where it could be smelled...forget about hiding it. Anyone with half a nose would know how you felt, and at that point, the fear had usually grown too great for you to hide it behind a calm face. If Iamb had smelled the Darkness...Bicca shuddered.
Bicca could not find words to tell his brother that they would be safe. His mouth would not say We're stronger than we used to be, brother. He could not say If something comes, we will fight it off. The stone-den is ours. All he could do was crouch beside his brother and lick his cheek silently. After a time, Iamb's tense body relaxed, and he slid onto his belly on the stone floor. Bicca sat beside him, nosing him and whining sympathetically.
The picture cackled distantly, and for once the silly-minded Bicca grew serious. He reared up onto his hindpaws and howled with all the breath he had. His long claws snapped out from their tucked position under his paws and struck the empty frame, knocking it askew and denting the side. The lean Wolfos half-crouched, his long forelegs dangling limply at his sides, his head low, his back hunched. There was a glow in his yellow eyes that the dim light of the picture-hall could not swallow, a feral burn that showed the dark beast that lurked behind his light heart. An unusual emotion filled him: Hatred. Suddenly he was overflowing with disgust and hatred for the Darkness that was slowly filling the stone-den and the woods around it. The back of his throat burned bitterly and he let loose a shattering howl that thundered through the hallway. He felt Iamb rise up beside him, and the big Wolfos laid one of his forepaws overtop Bicca's—Like the Wolfoses in the carving, he thought, wondering if his older brother remembered how much he loved the carving. Together, they filled the dark passageway with their voices, howling and snarling at the Darkness. They would not be driven back, they snarled. The stone-den was their territory, and nothing, not even the intangible Darkness, could make them abandon it.
When the last of their howls had faded from the air, the whole hall seemed to be ringing with their power. For the first time in years, their minds were free of the clingy Darkness, and the feeling was incredible. Iamb tackled his brother, knocking the breath out of him, and started to lick his face. Bicca's tail slapped the dusty floor, sending up clouds of the ancient powder. They wrestled on the ground like cubs, nipping ears and tugging fur, yipping joyously. If nothing else, the picture-hall was theirs once more, and that was enough to send them into throes of ecstacy. When the sun began to rise and they returned to the front room to sleep, the Darkness would latch onto their minds once more. They would feel its terrible, needling pangs, but their pain would be soothed by the knowledge that they had driven the Darkness back once—and if they had done it once, they could certainly do it again.
The Deku Tree was dead, but that hadn't stopped Saria and a few of the other Kokiri from sleeping at his cold roots. Some of the Kokiri slept with the Tree because they believed that someday, his spirit would return and he would banish the monsters to the Outside. For most of the Forest children, though, it was a way to escape the frightening changes that were taking place just outside their village, in the Lost Woods. The Great Deku Tree's hollow, spiritless trunk was rooted on the far side of the Forest, the furthest away form the Lost Woods as you could get in the village. Those that ventured into the dense trees came back bruised and terrified out of their minds, babbling stories of Deku Scrubs gone mad and huge monsters with spears—if they came back at all. One of them, a boy called Kory, had been missing for almost a month, and his fairy had not been seen, either.
Without its Guardian, the Kokiri Forest was quickly turning into a haunted place, where the ghosts of children played timidly in the shadows, ready to dart into their houses at the first sign of danger. The days seemed to be getting shorter, even though it was in the middle of summer, and with less light to grow in, much of the plant life was beginning to wither. In its place, thorny and dark vegetation was starting to sprout, plants that sometimes hissed when stepped on by careless boots. Sounds— bellows and shrieks, howls and cackles—could be heard from the entrance to the Lost Woods, growing louder with each passing day. The Forest was quickly becoming a dangerous place to live, and the Kokiri began to wonder if it would soon be the end of them all. With the village getting darker and the Lost Woods full of monsters, the only safe place seemed to be the Outside—and that was certainly no option.
As the days grew darker and darker, Saria found herself thinking more about the Forest Temple. She wondered if it would be safe to take everyone there, to be guarded jealously by her two adopted cubs. It had to be safer than anywhere else in the Forest, but her heart dropped when she realized that no one would want to follow her there. The journey would be dangerous, and at any rate, Iamb and Bicca were sure to have forgotten her by now. She quickly put the plan out of her mind, but she could not rid herself of thoughts of the Forest Temple. The feeling of welcome that had once unnerved her now drew her, tugging at her heart like anxious hands. The Kokiri girl wanted nothing more than to step inside that cool, stone sanctuary and into its welcome arms. She felt sick, watching the Forest die around her and seeing all her friends reduced to mere shadows of their former selves. There was also a clinging feeling of fear that hung onto the back of her mind with vicious tenacity, a feeling that grew heavier with each passing day. She felt as though the Temple held the answers, but she hated to leave her friends alone when they needed her.
Dawn had not broken when Saria sat up in a cold sweat. She glanced around with suspicious speed, wondering what had torn her away from sleep so quickly. The morning light was pale, weak, and gray. More light came from the sleeping fairies huddled up against their chosen child! The girl stood up slowly, pulling on the boots that lay beside her makeshift bed at the Deku Tree's roots. Fael hummed up softly behind her, causing her to jump and whirl around. The pink fairy glowed apologetically, and Saria took her into a cupped hand as she walked through the misty daybreak. It took her a few minutes to realize that the air was filled with ear-ringing silence. The snarls and shouts from the Lost Woods were quieted. The child stepped out of the Deku Tree's clearing and out into the village.
Her feet led her first to Link's house, where she stopped and stared up at the empty treehouse. It didn't seem like it had been a year since he had left the Forest, but it had really been twice that. Saria sighed quietly. Two years since a blue fairy who called herself Navi had appeared to the boy and attached herself to him. Two years since the Deku Tree had died, killed, Link said, by a parasite eating away at his very heart and spirit. Two years since Saria had parted with one of her treasured Ocarinas and taught Link a song that would keep them together no matter where he went. Two years since the Forest had started to die. A little disloyally, the girl wondered if Link's leaving the Forest had been the real cause of its upset, as Mido repeatedly claimed. Fael seemed to sense this thought and glowed hotly in Saria's hand, causing the girl to yelp and toss her into the air. The pain jolted her back to reality, and the Kokiri smiled wryly and kept walking, rubbing her stinging hand on her tunic.
She stopped again in front of the Lost Woods, clenching her fists and gritting her teeth. Over the past few days, Saria's thoughts of the Forest Temple had reached the point of obsession. She could think of nothing but what might lie deep within its stony passages—what questions, what answers she could find if she looked. "When the monsters stop their growling, it's almost like everything's back to normal, isn't it?" Fael mused quietly, interrupting the child's confused thoughts. Saria looked up at her fairy friend sadly and nodded. "But it's not healthy to think so much about the past," Fael continued, and there was an edge to her words. "Instead of wishing that we have what we used to have, we should think about where we are now and work with what we have."
"Why would you say that, Fael?"
"Isn't it obvious? You can't stop thinking about that stupid Temple—it's all I hear when I listen to your thoughts! Saria, you can't change the past. You left Iamb and Bicca to care for themselves—"
Saria drew back. "That isn't why I think about it!" she said indignantly. Her voice rose into a half-yell, a volume that echoed through the still Forest like thunder. As if this was a cue, the sounds from within the Lost Woods returned in full force. Saria dropped down to the ground limply and started to cry. Everything was ruined, and it was all her fault—somehow, she knew it had to be her. The Forest was dying, and before long Kory wouldn't be the only missing Kokiri. She dug her fingers into the patchy grass beneath her and sobbed. That awful, dark feeling was coming back, and—Coming back? It had left? The girl raised her eyes, stunned out of her tears. She turned to Fael. "There's something out there," she whispered with vicious certainty. "Something in the Temple that lashed out against the darkness...and the darkness lost." The lost glimmer returned to her blue eyes at the thought of something striking back against the spreading shadows.
"What is it?" Fael asked excitedly. "Can you tell?"
Saria shook her head. "No, but something tells me that whatever it was wants me in the Temple with it." She started to get back up again, her hands in tight fists as if preparing to strike the dark power themselves. Fael landed on her shoulder and glowed brightly in the darkness of the morning. Something tingled in the air around them, some bright power that seemed to shine a light around them. The darkness in the log tunnel actually receded a bit. Saria turned and nodded to her fairy. The two of them were ready to step into the Lost Woods together, to start fighting back against the shadows—
"Where are you going?!"
Saria faltered with one foot in the air, then turned slowly to see Mido standing behind her, his hands on his hips. The boy was tapping a foot impatiently against the ground and shaking his head slowly. There was a hunted look in his blue eyes, a look that every Kokiri seemed to wear these days. Saria spread her hands in front of her pleadingly. "Mido, I know what I'm doing. If you let me—"
"No. I'm not gonna let you get yourself killed, Saria," Mido interrupted angrily. "The Lost Woods are dangerous. Besides, we need you. You've got this...You kinda...There's this...around you..." He started to falter and stammer, his objections eventually fading into silence. Saria took that as her cue to leave, but no sooner had she started walking than Mido snagged her arm and pulled her back. "You can't leave!!" he shouted, and his words blasted the dying Forest like a violent explosion. Saria flinched away from him, but his grip on her arm was unbreakable. His fairy, Suan, burned bright red, matching her partner's flaring anger with a burst of her own. Saria twisted and pulled as she tried to free herself, but Mido only held her tighter. His grasp was beginning to border on pain when the Forest was lit with a burst of bright, furious light. The two Kokiri fell away from each other, and those who had awoken to their shouting match dropped back as well.
Saria opened her eyes to see a tall, portly figure standing between her and Mido. It was obviously the shape of an adult man, but there was something surrounding him that suggested he was more than an adult. He was dressed in a long brown robe with sleeves that covered his hands, and a thick-looking, darker brown surcoat that was woven with patterns. His hair was shock-white, and stood out from his face like jutting stone. His face was stern, but Saria could see a glimmer of gentle affection behind his icy gaze. Silver light radiated from his body, gentle enough to look at, but mysteriously bright enough to shed light over the entire village. His eyes locked onto Saria's, and in a gentle, deep voice, he murmured, "It is time, Sagechild."
Saria gazed up at him in awe, her mind hard at work connecting his words to some deeply-buried thought. She mouthed soundlessly, and the shining man knelt beside her and chuckled. "It matters not if you cannot remember all that you must know," he told her. "I only wish I could tell it to you, but it is for you to figure out on your own." His voice grew more serious. "The Gate has been opened, and the one we feared has broken through. You must—"
Saria barely heard was he was saying. Her mind was racing like a rabbit through the shadows of the Lost Woods. Her heart throbbed painfully with every rapid beat, and she felt it would surge free from her chest at any second. She started to feel lightheaded and wavered, falling back against the man's outstretched arm. He carefully leaned her back upright, and there she sat, dizzy and confused. Who was this man...How had he managed to enter the Forest...Why did he call her—!!
Sickeningly, the missing piece of the puzzle clicked into place, and Saria understood everything. She remembered one of the Deku Tree's old stories, a story about the creation of Hyrule. There were three Goddesses, and at each of their hands were two...two Sages. Nayru, with the Sages of Water and Light. Din, with the Sages of Fire and Shadow. Farore, with the Sages of Spirit...and Forest. Sagechild, he had called her, the Child Sage, the only one of the six who would never grow past her childhood. And now, with the man's bright arm around her shoulders, Saria opened her eyes and saw past the shadows and into the light. She saw a Forest that had been neglected by its care-giver and was slowly dying. She saw children who were lost without someone to guide them, someone they could believe in. She saw the last stronghold against the darkness that threatened to destroy them, and she knew it was her destiny.
The man said only one more sentence. "What is your name, Sagechild?"
The girl drew in a deep breath. There was a new light in her eyes, a cool and confident fire that burned a clear, summer-sky blue. There was light within her, and her smooth skin visibly glowed with it. She looked like a shooting star, a brilliant blaze of hope in the darkness of the night. The Forest children leaned in, unconsciously hanging on her every word, their eyes wide with anticipation. The girl spoke. "My name is Saria," she answered, and at her words, the children below laughed, for it was an answer they had known all along.
But the stout man was not laughing. He stepped back as Saria got to her feet. "Mido, I know what's causing all our problems," she told him firmly. "I'm going into the Lost Woods to try and solve it. Guard these Woods until I get back. Don't let anyone else in. Do you understand?" Mido nodded dumbly, and Saria turned away. The tall man stepped back and let her enter the Lost Woods alone. She walked without fear into the shadows, the glow of her body forcing them back.
Once she was out of sight of Mido and the other Kokiri, Saria broke into a terrified run. (2) Her legs blurred as she raced through the dark forest, each foot pounding the ground so strongly that the grass was blown away. Her blood felt like ice as it traveled through her body, pumping her full of cold fear. She sped like a silver comet through the tangled trees. At one point, she actually ran through a Moblin, and the burly beast was left rubbing its stomach stupidly as she shot away from it. Fear lent her legs speed, and when combined with the power of a Hyrulian Sage, she ran faster than mortal eyes could follow. She may have been the Sagechild, but her small body was no less powerful than even the muscular Sage of Fire's. In fact, it seemed even stronger, because all that power was concentrated into the body of a young child. Though she blazed through the darkened woods at an unbelievable speed, the journey to the Forest Temple seemed to take eons.
There, in the safety of the Sacred Forest Meadow, Saria collapsed on the ground in front of the bones of the mother Wolfos. She was shaking with fear and disgust. Why did she have to be the Sagechild? There were plenty of other Kokiri who were braver and smarter than she was. Sure, maybe they hadn't raised a litter of Wolfos cubs, or stood up to a Moblin, or, or, or—or maybe they weren't the ones that all the other Kokiri turned to when things got rough, or the unofficial "nurses", or, or, or...The girl gave up, shaking her head. There was no use trying to fight Fate. With resignation, she stood up.
Her eyes locked on the old skeleton at her feet, looking at it in a new light. The bones had come to mean a lot to her over the years. They were the remains of a peaceful sleeper, a protective mother...They stood as a symbol of faithfulness, strength, love, determination. They were steadfast, and never moved. Saria laid her hands atop the skull. Something in the back of her mind, some hidden voice, told her that she would need to make a marker for the Hero, something that he would be drawn towards when he came to free her Temple. Her hands glowed bright green, and in a flash of light as green as springtime, the Wolfos skeleton had become a large, flat platform made of bone-white, flawless marble. The Sagechild stepped back to admire her work briefly before she stepped inside the Temple.
(1) Remember how you had to shoot the paintings of two of the Poe sisters to get them to come out? I'm pretty sure it was the Blue and the Red one that did that. Then you had to solve the puzzle for the Green one, and the Purple would appear after you killed the other three.
(2) If you use Saria's Song after she's awakened as a Sage, she'll tell you that she was afraid at first.