Disclaimer: The Legend of Zelda, its characters and locations are all property of Nintendo. Any and all OCs and original locations belong to me unless specifically stated to belong to someone else.

Soul Remnants
Chapter 13

Sheik's head was buzzing pleasantly as the smell of forest invaded his nostrils and the sounds of thousands of critters and insects filled his ears. He was so utterly comfortable that he did not feel like opening his eyes, the soft grass beneath him far superior to any feather-stuffed mattress he'd ever slept on. He was lying spread-eagled on the forest floor, comfortable in the shade provided by what must surely have been a humongous tree of some kind. He had never felt so content, so relaxed...it was like every worry and problem he had ever faced had simply disappeared, leaving him with a profound sense of freedom and a desire to do simply nothing but bask in the glorious afternoon, comforted by the sense of belonging that filled his very being. At any other time, he would quickly have grown restless and started to do something productive, but for what was quite possibly the first time in his still short life, he wanted to simply...relax. Rest. Become one again with the world he had been forced to forget once the awful war had started, perhaps regain the childhood he had lost...

He made a game out of trying to filter out the different animal noises and guess the species and distance. He knew little of the wildlife here, but surely it could not be all that different from home? He recognised crickets, grasshoppers and squibs, deer and what he could only assume was a wild boar judging by the grunting. Or perhaps a moblin...no, not a moblin, the noise was far too benign and—while not directly friendly—kind-natured for one of the evil pig men... He smiled to himself, realising that he hadn't automatically gone for a weapon when the thought had crossed his mind. So relaxed was he.

He was certain that he could lie here until the end of time unless something happened, and, frankly, he was hoping nothing would. For why should not he deserve some peace of mind for once? Why should not he, who had given up so much, be entitled to some proper time to himself? He half-expected something to happen just then, as if the very thoughts would summon some horrible, eldritch monstrosity with too many legs, eyes and rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth that would put the fear into anyone, no matter what deity they worshipped. But no such creature appeared.

All was peaceful. All was calming. All was...perfect. Almost too perfect.

He knew it would not last, and his suspicion was confirmed when a white-hot pain shot through his left arm all the way to his fingertips—with the strange exception of his little and ring fingers, which only tingled slightly—and then his right arm and finally his stomach, forcing him to gasp and sit up, clutching his limbs and middle tightly, feeling like they were about to explode. He groaned, clenching his eyes tightly, determined not to let out the pained scream that so desperately wanted to explode from his mouth.

The pain went away as quickly as it had appeared, and he let out a sigh of relief, briefly wondering what it had been. He was about to lie back down when he realised that the forest had gone eerily quiet, the sounds of life around him abruptly cut short, like someone had simply flipped a switch and effectively silenced the world. Warily, he opened his eyes and, upon realising where he was, he gasped. No wonder it had felt so familiar.

It was the clearing in the Lost Woods, the one in which a tall tree stump rose proudly from the forest floor, the flat surface upon which the Hero had once claimed to have seen a mysterious being he had described as being named "The Skullkid" had danced and played the flute, dressed in rags and a broad-brimmed hat beneath which only a black space could be seen. But Sheik remembered it as something else. He remembered it as the place that had so often appeared in his dreams right after the fiasco in the Water Temple in Lake Hylia. He felt his heart skip a beat as he gazed at the shorter stump next to the tall one, half expecting it to sit there. But it did not, and he felt relieved. Perhaps it was only a normal dream, then. He hoped it was a normal dream, or else he would be very confused about how he had ended up here.

He stood up, his desire to rest all but vanished after the excruciating episode of pain, realising that he was only wearing a pair of dark blue shorts, the rest of his body exposed to the world at large. Even in the sunlight that shone down upon this oasis in the forest, he felt like he was supposed to shiver, for the Lost Woods was not a welcoming place by any stretch of imagination, neither for the mind nor the body it...and yet, he was so warm, almost sweating. He took a few steps forward, feeling the soft grass under the soles of his feet, relishing in the feeling. It felt wonderful, almost like walking on silk, only much better. He realised now why the Hero did it whenever he could. He deliberately kept his back facing the stumps, not wanting the unsavoury memories of this place to creep into his head.

His arms and stomach felt a degree or two warmer than the rest of his body, which was...strange and alien to his mind. Surely the body was supposed to regulate its own warmth and properly distribute it throughout its systems?

This was a pleasant dream, he decided. Despite the sudden influx of pain, it clearly outweighed any other dream he'd had in the past few months. No panic, no fear...nothing that chased him, nothing that mocked him...and above all, no shadow.

But then a shiver suddenly went through him, the hairs on his neck and forearms standing up. He felt the burning gaze upon him before he even turned around, glaring at the tall stump.

The shadow was sitting on it, its legs dangling slightly in the air, staring intently at him with an amused smile on its lips. It remained silent as Sheik did not move from his spot, folding his arms in annoyance, trying to ignore the slight burning feeling in his limbs and stomach. What was going on with him? Why did the shadow always appear in his dreams? What did it want? Why was it here?

"I distinctly remember a time during which you referred to me as a 'he' rather than an 'it'," the shadow suddenly said, not moving from its seat. "Why the sudden animalisation?" it asked. Its voice still had that faint echo that Sheik knew and hated.

Sheik sighed, wishing he had mastered the art of manipulating his own dreams. If he had, he would be dropping a very heavy object on the shadow at this very moment, preferably an anvil. But since he had no heavy objects lying around and since he had no weapons...perhaps he could talk the nightmare away.

"I think you know the reason for that quite well, shadow," he said bitterly. "But allow me to refresh your memory: you killed me. You stabbed me in the chest with your sword and left me bleeding and dying in the Forest Temple. I didn't survive that night. And then, after I was brought back, you tried to kill me again by severing my soul's connection to Terra's. I'd say that's more than ample reason to hate you and refuse to refer to you as anything but a creature of no inherent value."

The shadow rolled his glowing eyes at this, the perfect mirror of the Hero's face frowning. Sheik hated it. Only Link deserved to have that face. The shadow was simply an imitation, an attempt at being the Hero, failing miserably with its pale skin and ashen grey hair. It even wore a grey version of the Hero's standard outfit, dark copies of the Master Sword and Hylian Shield slung on its back. Everything about it was right but so wrong at the same time!

"The way you hold on to a grudge is absolutely inspiring," it said. "It's been...how long? Half a year at the least. Surely you can put your death and near-death experiences behind you?"

"Easier said than done," Sheik said tiredly, wishing the shadow would just go away. How difficult could it be to banish a memory when its corporeal counterpart was long dead? "You don't seem all that torn up about your demise, though..."

The shadow chuckled. "It is difficult to be distraught about the death of a mere vestigial part of oneself. It would be the same as feeling sorrow for fingernail clippings—they are gone, but you can always grow more."

Sheik's heart skipped another beat, reminding him that his lifespan had been shortened greatly, even after possessing the Delta Force for quite some time. The Sages had not seen fit to grant him his lost years, much to Link's anger. But the reason for his sudden apprehension was what the shadow had said. "What do you mean 'a part of you'?"

The shadow chuckled again, grinning condescendingly. "I was certain that your brilliant Sheikah mind would have figured it out by now," it said, jumping down from the stump, landing elegantly on the grass. "But I suppose I have to explain it to you like a child: I did not die in that temple as you so desperately want to believe. At least, not all of me. A substantial part, certainly, but not everything. Not the part that I left inside you when we first parted..."

"But...but I forced you out!" Sheik protested. "All of you!"

"Tch...did you honestly believe that you were strong enough to banish me fully?" it asked in a mocking tone. "I am the embodiment of everything that the Hero of Time could become if he only embraced the darkness within him. I am just as strong, if not stronger than him. How could you possibly hope to rid yourself of me? I tried to make you aware of this fact by appearing to you in Ganondorf's castle, but you blamed it on the Gerudo's defences...you were so foolish." The shadow stepped forward, smiling.

"Link destroyed you," Sheik said, still keeping his distance as the shadow came ever closer, remembering the apparition that had appeared among the suits of armour as he and Hatra had tried to escape. He wanted to run, just turn around and tear off into the forest, but he had a feeling that the shadow was in control of this particular dream. And that was all it was: a dream. A nightmare—his worst nightmare. The idea of the shadow being back in control was more terrifying than anything because it meant that everything Sheik had gone through since that day in the temple had been for naught, a mere build-up towards the sick and macabre climax that the shadow had surely been planning since day one, since he had first been defeated by Link. "He can do it again."

"He may," the shadow admitted, pausing slightly before approaching Sheik, who suddenly found himself with his back to a thick wall of trees that prevented him from backing away any further. "But the truth of the matter is that as long as you are alive, I will continue to return. You see, I have planted a part of myself deep inside you," it had reached Sheik by the time it said this, and was now trailing a hand down the Sheikah's naked chest. Sheik growled and slapped it away.

"Don't touch me! And what do you mean you've planted something inside me?"

"Easy—I have torn away a part of my essence and left it inside you, where it continues to grow until I will once again be able to assume a corporeal form. You will never be rid of me, my pet, and My Light can continue to temporarily banish me as much as he likes, but the fact remains that I will keep coming back. And unlike My Light, I will not age. Sooner or later, he will slip up and I will utterly annihilate him...and then you shall be mine forever." He placed his hands on the tree trunks on either side of Sheik's head, trapping the Sheikah. Sheik tried to push the arms away or escape somehow, but the shadow was simply too strong, holding him in place.

"There is no point in resisting," it said, leaning in close enough for its hot breath to whisper over Sheik's lips. "Give yourself to me like you once did...and I promise that I will never hurt you again. I love you." It crushed its lips to Sheik's, ignoring the protesting hands that pushed at its chest in a vain attempt to shove him aside, but the second the shadow's lips had touched his own, all strength had been sapped out of his body.

Sheik was panicking. This definitely didn't feel like a dream—it felt too real. The sensation of the shadow's body pressing up against his own, its lips against his, the warmth, the faint smell of wet earth... He realised that he couldn't breathe and renewed his effort in pushing it away, but he only felt it grin against his lips and probed at them with its tongue, begging to be let in. But Sheik clamped his jaws and lips shut—this was one thing he would not—could not—tolerate under any circumstances. He despised the shadow and wished for nothing but its swift destruction. But the lack of oxygen was becoming more than apparent as his lungs began to burn slightly, and he was finally forced to open his mouth in an attempt to breathe. The shadow took that opportunity to plunge its tongue into Sheik's mouth, exploring every inch before forcing the Sheikah's own into submission. It was warm and wet...and just like kissing Link, only more...forceful, less gentle. It was so much like being kissed by the Hero, yet so unfamiliar and decidedly not...

Sheik felt his legs give out beneath him, and he collapsed against the shadow, which held him up with its strong arms, still dominating his mouth like it had been waiting for an eternity to do so. His lungs burned and his heart ached, despair seizing him as he realised he was being violated by his most hated enemy...

"Sheik!"

The unfamiliar voice rang out across the clearing, strong and audible. The shadow finally tore himself away from Sheik's mouth, allowing the Sheikah to get precious air back into his body, glaring around him.

"Sheik! Please wake up!"

"Curse that man!" it snarled, refocusing its gaze on Sheik, who was still too weak to struggle his way out of its tight embrace. "I wanted some more time to play with my pet...oh well; I suppose we will have plenty of time to...explore each other later," it said, chuckling darkly again as it stared at Sheik's flushed face. "It is time for you to return to the land of the living," it said and lowered Sheik to the ground before it stepped away and slowly began to fade into nothing. "I will see you the next time you fall asleep, my pet..."

Sheik's vision became blurry and fatigue quickly overtook him, making him feel like he hadn't slept in weeks, and the pain intensified a hundred times over. He bit back an agonised scream as the clearing disappeared into darkness...

Sheik's eyes slowly opened, bringing Jeryd's worried face into view. His right cheek had a bandage on it, and his arm was in a sling.

"Jeryd...?" he asked. Or tried to ask, anyhow. His throat was so dry that his question came out as a dry and hoarse croak.

Jeryd smiled and nodded. "Yeah, it's me. We were worried about you...we didn't think you'd wake up, but then you started moaning and tossing in your sleep." He turned slightly on the chair he was sitting in and hollered out the door just behind him. "Hey, he's awake!" Then he turned back to Sheik. "You must be thirsty, here." He held out a cup filled with water. Sheik tried to take it, but groaned when both his arms flared up in pain. He quickly realised that he couldn't move either of them and tried to turn his head to look at them, but even that proved too much of a strain and sent his head spinning. "Here, let me help you," Jeryd said, carefully tipping the cup and letting the water run into Sheik's mouth. He swallowed gratefully, his throat loosening somewhat.

"What happened?" he asked. "Where am I? Why can't I move my arms?"

Jeryd shook his head sadly. "You don't remember?" he asked. "You took a nasty tumble over the cliffs with one crossbow bolt in your shoulder and another in your stomach. You crashed against the stone at least once before you hit the water, after which you nearly drowned, but not before breaking your left arm against the rocks. We think you have a bad concussion too, which probably accounts for the headache you must be having right now."

Sheik stilled, remembering snippets of the event. He remembered getting hit by at least two crossbow bolts, yes, and the tumble off the cliffs, but after that...nothing. His eyes widened when he remembered that Link had been hit too, but remembered that Jeryd had said "they" were worried...if Link was safe, that was a relief. "Link...?" he asked.

Jeryd frowned. "I'm sorry...he was hit in the leg, and I tried to go to help him, but he told me in no uncertain terms what he'd do to me if I didn't jump and help you...there was no point in trying to argue, so I did...but not before getting hit myself." He pointed at the bandage on his cheek. "I sprained my arm quite badly trying to reach you in the river...and I'm sorry, because I know you're not interested in that right now."

"Where...is...Link?" Sheik said slowly.

"He's not here," Jeryd said. "I don't know where he is. He didn't jump into the river after us, so we can only assume that he's either dead or captured. And, I'm sorry to say, that our ambushers were not shooting to incapacitate..."

Sheik clenched his jaw. "Link made it," he said, though whether he did to convince himself or Jeryd, he didn't know. "He's fought his way out of far worse situations before." He said with conviction, finishing with a nod that only served to release another torrent of pain in his head. He groaned again, wishing he could rub his temples, but his arms refused to move.

"I believe you," Jeryd said quietly. "Please, don't try to move too much. Your left arm was absolutely mangled by the rocks in the river, and we believe that you lost quite a bit of muscle in your right shoulder..."

"Who are we, exactly?" Sheik asked, head spinning. He tried to ignore the implication in Jeryd's words, that his right arm would be more or less useless if too much muscle tissue had been lost. Hopefully, they were wrong. He definitely hoped that he was right about Link. There was no way Link would let himself get killed by something as simple as a roadside ambush. No, Sheik could only imagine Link dying either peacefully of old age in bed or in battle against some horrid, world-threatening beast, taking it with him to his death.

It was so difficult to make sense of the situation when he couldn't even get the room to stay still. It seemed to rotate, and if he kept his eye on one spot for too long he started to feel dizzy and wanted to throw up.

"Angen and I," Jeryd answered. "Don't worry, he's trustworthy. He pulled us out of the river close to where he was fishing and carried us back to this place and has been taking care of you since then. I've kept a close eye on everything."

"Angen?" The name sounded familiar. Sheik had definitely heard or seen it before, but where? His memory was just one big lump of fuzzy, unclear images that weren't clear to him at all, but he could've sworn that... "Angen, as in Angen Inn?" he asked, finally remembering the large building he and Link had passed by the large lake when they'd first arrived in Lumina. The man in the door hadn't seemed all that friendly for an innkeeper, much less like one that would fish injured people out of rivers.

"The very same," Jeryd confirmed. He had a fading bruise on his left cheek. "You've met him before?"

Sheik explained how he'd known the name.

"Yeah," Jeryd said, chuckling slightly. "He's a bit rough around the edges, but he's been attending to you diligently for the past two weeks—"

"Two weeks?" Sheik exclaimed. "I've been lying here for two bloody weeks?"

"That's why we were worried you wouldn't wake up," Jeryd said calmly, not bothered by Sheik's outburst in the slightest. "Your head wound was quite serious and Angen first thought that you'd suffered brain damage...but now that you're awake, I guess we can rule out that possibility."

Don't count on it just yet, Sheik thought, trying to get a good look at the room (which was easier said than done when one considered the fact that it seemed to be rolling around like a big dice). It seemed like a simple inn room, right enough—wooden floor, walls and ceiling. No windows. Simple and functional furniture, a barely comfortable bed... He slowly turned his head to look at his left arm. It was completely covered in an amateurish-looking cast, and it was mounted on some sort of rack that not only elevated the limb, but seemed to isolate it so that Sheik couldn't move it on his own power. His right arm was the same story, but he only had a bandage covering his shoulder. He was also bandaged heavily around his stomach.

"Don't worry," Jeryd said, noticing where Sheik was looking. "It's not serious. The bolt didn't hit anything vital. You might want to avoid flexing your abdominal muscles, however, because it is going to hurt while it's still healing." Suddenly, a look of sadness came over him. "I was...worried, you know. So worried."

"Why?" Sheik. "As far as I know, we've only gotten you into trouble..."

"I don't mind, really," Jeryd said apprehensively. "Because I—"

He was interrupted by heavy footsteps approaching the room. "I ought to kick your head in for shouting this early in the morning," said the owner, his face appearing in the doorway. Sheik almost gulped. It was definitely the same man he'd seen in the doorway when they'd passed by the inn the first time.

"What's this about, then?" he asked, noticing the fully awake Sheik in the bed. "Huh, would've thought you'd kicked the bucket by now," he said with a tone that seemed to be both serious and joking at the same time and entered the room fully, making Sheik realise just how huge the man was. He towered over them, at least two metres in height. Strong muscles rippled under his clothes, showing the result of years of hard labour. His face, however, was surprisingly gentle and kind-looking, despite the gruff words he's spoken. He looked to be in his early forties at the most, perhaps his late thirties. His eyes were such a bright shade of hazel they almost looked golden. His dark brown hair was long and not pulled back in any way, being allowed to flow freely and richly from his head. The look he was giving Sheik looked nothing like the one he'd given them while watching them cross the bridge. "How are you feeling?" he asked earnestly.

"Like I've taken a tumble over a cliff," Sheik said.

"As well you should," the man said, nodding. "The name's Angen. Just Angen. I don't think we've been properly introduced..."

"Sheik. Just Sheik."

"Right," Angen said, looking annoyed before moving towards Sheik's left arm. "I need to look at your hand," he said solemnly.

"I can't feel two of my fingers," Sheik said, realising that something was wrong as Angen quickly lifted away the bandage that was wrapped around the hand.

Angen shook his head. "No wonder," he said, causing Sheik to look at him in confusion. He moved Sheik's hand so that he could see that his little and ring fingers were a dark blue, almost black colour. He gritted his teeth. "Infection," Angen said simply. "I thought I'd fought it off with the medicine I've given you, but the damage, coupled with the loss of circulation, was too extensive, it seems."

Jeryd said nothing, but he took Sheik's right hand and squeezed as the Sheikah simply stared at his dead digits.

"They need to be amputated," Angen continued. "Or you're going to lose the whole hand, or, even worse, your arm."

Sheik nodded silently, knowing that there was nothing they could do about the infection after it had progressed this far. He'd seen cases like this during the war, and they had rarely ended pretty. Kaura had been quite adept at treating them, but not even her expertise could save flesh and bone that had already been taken by the rot.

"I'll go prepare," Angen said, standing up. "It won't take long. Jeryd, go get him some of the brandy behind the counter. We need him good and drunk for this. Oh, and don't worry, I've done this before." He directed the last part at Sheik, not exactly smiling encouragingly, but the tone clearly told Sheik that he meant it.

"Got it," Jeryd said, standing up to follow the man as he disappeared out into the hallway, but Sheik stopped him with a look. "What is it?"

"Who is he?" Sheik asked after Angen's footsteps had retreated a sufficient distance. "Is he a doctor? Why is he running an inn?"

"I don't know, Sheik," Jeryd said honestly. "He won't tell me anything about himself apart from his name. But please, he's been taking very good care of you—both of us—so far...and if there's a risk of that infection spreading..."

"Yes, I know," Sheik said, his head pounding. So, he was going to lose the fingers. Just like that. Just break an arm and there it was—an infection capable of utterly destroying one's body if allowed to go unchecked. It was almost laughably how easy it was to ruin one's body. It was so fragile, so vulnerable, so...squishy. It was surprising that a strong wind didn't break one's spine. Sheik sighed, prematurely lamenting the loss of the two digits. But he'd already lost an eye; surely a couple of fingers couldn't be all that bad? It was vastly more preferable than death—that was for damn sure. "About that brandy," he said slowly.

"Yes?"

"Better bring the whole bottle."

As Jeryd left, Sheik closed his eyes, taking slow and deep breaths as he tried to regain focus. So, he'd fallen into the river and gotten himself injured to an almost stupid degree. Jeryd had jumped after him and gotten hurt as well, leaving Link to fend for himself with a leg injury. Sheik and Jeryd had been rescued by Angen and taken to his inn, where he's been taking care of them. Right. That wasn't so hard.

He gulped when he remembered the dream he'd had. It had felt so real, like he was back in that clearing created by the shadow's fantasies. But it was all false, of course. It had to be. As if the shadow had reached such a level of power as to be able to plant traces of itself into people—ridiculous and preposterous, worthy of a mighty harrumph with at least three exclamation marks following it. He looked down at his bandaged stomach. The idea of some...part of the shadow growing and festering within him was enough to send his head reeling and his stomach protesting wildly, almost making him gag. Fortunately, he didn't and was able to keep himself in control until Jeryd returned with an expensive-looking bottle of brandy and three glasses. Upon Sheik's quizzical expression, Jeryd shrugged helplessly.

"One for you to dull the pain, one for him to concentrate, and one for me to steady my nerves," the human explained as he poured the alcohol into the glasses, making sure that Sheik's was filled to the brim. "I don't much like the idea of someone operating while drinking, but it's better than dying of blood poisoning, right?"

"Yes, I might just die of blood loss instead," Sheik drawled. "Far more humane and peaceful." He had a feeling he really shouldn't have been agreeing to this, not knowing Jeryd well enough and not knowing Angen at all to be trusting them to perform such an operation...and yet, he did. Somehow, he knew that Jeryd wouldn't allow any funny business to happen.

Jeryd chuckled. "Can't argue with that." He held his glass to his lips and did the same with Sheik's. It was difficult to do anything without the use of his arms. "To a successful operation and a speedy recovery! Chin chin." They both drank, emptying their glasses in one gulp. The burnt wine seared a trail down Sheik's throat and made him cough a little, sending spasms of pain throughout his body before he requested more. He didn't like getting drunk, but he'd seen operations like these before and the agony the amputees had been put through was more than enough to convince him that breaking fingers was nothing compared to cutting them off.

"Why doesn't he have any anaesthesia?" Sheik muttered as he finished off his third glass of brandy. He was pretty sure that the room was spinning even faster now.

"Because I'm not a licensed doctor," Angen said, suddenly stepping into the room. Neither Sheik nor Jeryd had heard him approach. "And only licensed doctors and apothecaries are allowed to make, use and store such chemicals." He was carrying a big bag similar to Kaura's, probably filled to the brim with surgical instruments and whatnot. He set it heavily on a small table that he moved to the rack that held Sheik's left arm up. A small chair was also placed by the table, giving him somewhere to sit. "And before you ask, I'm not an unlicensed doctor either," he said as he opened the bag and began taking out scalpels and saws that made Sheik's stomach give a lurch. "I'm just someone who's learned a lot more about medicine than he ever wanted to. Not that it hasn't come in use over the years, but..." he trailed off, studying a particularly nasty-looking contraption. "Let's just say that I know what I'm doing, yeah? Where's my brandy? Thank you."

He finished his drink in a single gulp and began to loosen the bonds of the rack, carefully lowering Sheik's hand to sit on the small table, but not before placing a cloth on top of the dark wood to soak up blood.

"Ever seen something like this done before?" he asked Sheik, his face absolutely serious.

Sheik nodded. "I'm not stranger to injuries like these, Mr. Angen—"

"Just Angen."

"—right, Angen. It is difficult to avoid seeing heavy injuries when fighting a war."

"Ain't that the truth," Angen muttered. "I figured you would, seeing as you're a Sheikah and all..."

"You know about my people?"

"Yeah, but not much. Only the broad, probably wrong facts that 'everyone' knows. Assassins, bodyguards...red eyes and blond hair...well, those are true from what I can see, but you catch my drift, yeah?"

"I do," Sheik said. "Then you also know what I'm capable of."

"Aye, and I also know what you need in order to be capable of doing those things. Don't worry." He cleared his throat, motioning for more brandy in his glass. "Right, you said you're familiar with operations like these, but I'll still go through it with you before I begin so you know exactly what's going to happen when."

"Very well," Sheik said, definitely feeling the effects of chugging down very strong alcohol. His head was buzzing now, just like it had done in his dream, and he knew that there was no way he would have been able to stand upright at the moment. Hopefully that would be enough to dull the pain. He just hoped that Angen wasn't a lightweight like him and could hold his liquor.

"First I'll start by cutting off as much of the blood circulation to your fingers as I can with a tourniquet," Angen explained, showing Sheik the tourniquet. "Then I will make an incision with the scalpel to the bone to get as much matter out of the way as possible." He held up a wicked-looking scalpel. "After that, I will use this saw—"he showed Sheik a surgical saw"—to sever the bone and the digit itself. I would usually cauterize the wound, but since I stupidly didn't think of that just now I will simply have to bind up the wounds as tightly as possible after disinfecting them. If all goes well, it won't take long for your fever to clear and all that good stuff. I have one warning for you: this is going to hurt like a son of a bitch! Even with a lot of alcohol flowing through you, you are going to feel absolutely everything. Feel free to scream bloody murder and threaten me with horrible death and destruction, but know that I am simply doing what I must to keep you alive. Understood?"

"Understood," Sheik confirmed and then had Jeryd pour another glassful of brandy down his throat. His heart began to beat faster as Angen began to screw on the tourniquet, the instrument making squeaky noises as the metallic bits ground against each other with every turn. Jeryd must have noticed his nervousness, for he suddenly took Sheik's right hand and squeezed it again, just like he'd done when Angen had first examined the dead fingers. Sheik didn't mind—he needed someone to hold on to for this. Impa had always taught him not to show pain under any circumstances, but he had a feeling that his aunt would overlook this one occasion.

Angen grunted as he gave the tourniquet a final twist and let go. "That should do it." He picked up the scalpel and, after a moment's hesitation, downed some more brandy. "Didn't think I'd ever have to do this again," he mumbled. "You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose," Sheik slurred, surprised at how fast the brandy had worked. Jeryd squeezed his hand a little tighter.

"Good," Angen said.

Sheik looked away as he felt the scalpel grazing the skin of his hand as Angen tried to decide where to cut. His heart was beating wildly, like he'd just ran a couple of miles, and cold sweat was soaking his forehead. His vision still spun, but he realised that fastening his gaze on Jeryd helped quite a bit, and the human held it, silently acknowledging Sheik's need.

"I need you to hold still," Angen said. "I don't want to nick anything important by mistake."

"Right." Sheik tried to steady himself, breathing deeply.

"Don't worry, Sheik, I'm here," Jeryd said kindly, smiling at him.

That provided more comfort than he had expected, and the human's calm, almost serene expression was enough to even calm him down a bit.

"Here we go," Angen said and began to cut.

Any semblance of composure, peacefulness and toughness disappeared the second the scalpel cut through Sheik's flesh. His entire frame seized up, body stiffening to such a degree that his spine made an ominous cracking sound and his muscles ached in protest of being treated in such a way. His hand clutched Jeryd's so hard that it cut the human's circulation off, but Jeryd merely squeezed back, speaking calmly to Sheik the entire time. "It's okay, it's okay...you're doing good..."

The scalpel hit bone, and Jeryd's voice disappeared, covered up by a blanket of sheer agony that blocked out everything else but the sensation of the cold metal cutting him. His mouth opened on its own accord, and Sheik screamed.

To be continued...

So, it appears that most of you want longer chapters and fewer updates, so I guess that's what I'll be doing from now on, which is actually sort of a relief since it puts a lot less time pressure on me, which could have resulted in severely subpar chapters. Thank you for your opinions! And thanks for the reviews, guys!

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