Spring rain pounded dully on the roof of the Forest Temple and sheeted across its entranceway in a silver curtain. Bicca pricked his ears forward to listen to it, hoping to use its simple melody to drown every last thought whirling through his brain. Looking outside, he could see the dim, dark shape of one of the dark Man's beasts—the "help" he had promised the Wolfos brothers—standing in the downpour just outside the small clearing. The dark Man certainly rewards his guardians well, he thought dryly. His yellow gaze shifted away from the doorway and settled sadly on the pile of leaves across the room. Iamb's nest was currently empty; he was probably relaxing down in the belly of the Temple with the shadow-man. The thought of the reeking underground ran chills down his spine, and out of habit, Bicca looked at the carving above the door.

This was the fourth spring since the dark Man's appearance, and the wet, gray, dead smell in the air made Bicca's young heart feel incredibly old. The mottled Wolfos heaved a sigh and uncurled his lean body from its furry knot. Ever since that day down below the Temple, when he had seen Iamb with the shadow-Man, the two brothers had been growing more and more distant. There was no real hostility...Just to near-total lack of interaction. This also made Bicca feel old, for while it was in part his nature, his gay spirits and cocky heart were mostly his way of showing his affection for his stern older brother. Now that Iamb freely ignored him, the younger Wolfos felt he had lost his reason for life, or something equally valuable to him.

Silver light flickered in the back of his mind, its luminance just barely reaching his mind's eye. The light had been fading steadily as well—whether it was just part of him growing accustomed to its frequent flashes, or perhaps something more sinister, Bicca couldn't say. All he knew is that a pulse like the one he had just seen meant that Iamb was drawing nearer. The lanky beast dropped a forepaw heavily across his nose, hoping to block out the inevitable wave of Darkness that was soon to follow. Still, he reasoned with more optimism than his heart had seen in weeks, Iamb was generally more relaxed after a visit with the shadow-Man. Bicca turned his head slightly to the side and spotted his brother just as he strolled into the front room. His tail gave a few thumps that went unnoticed except for a brief twitch of Iamb's gray tail. Was it a wag? Probably not. Bicca's own tail flopped limply back to earth, as if killed by lack of attention.

There was something decidedly unusual about Iamb, and it wasn't just the change in his scent. The big Wolfos seemed to be growing, with his already broad shoulders now their original length and half again, his muscular forelimbs even more developed than before, his stocky hindlegs even sturdier. Every time he looked at him, Bicca felt like a pup next to his father. Iamb's eyes were more inclined to flash red, even if he wasn't angry in the least. His pelt was still its same dark gray, the color Bicca always remembered it being...But it seemed longer now, and a slight mane had started to form on the back on his neck, a mane that bristled up sharply whenever his emotions took a turn for the worse. And now he was clinking—

Clinking?

Bicca's head shot up in surprise. He flailed around briefly as his legs and paws tried desperately to communicate. Then, once on his feet, he padded over timidly to his brother's side. Iamb's eyes were red, a color that could mean just about anything, but Bicca took it to mean that he wasn't angry—yet. Dropping onto his belly, the younger Wolfos shuffled closer. "Brother...you're making a strange sound," he whispered. Iamb turned and looked down distantly. He was silent for a few moments, leaving Bicca to wonder if he was trying to look through him to the unoffending floor. He licked his nose nervously. "Well, I'm sure it's a good sound, whatever it is," he offered humbly. Iamb did not respond, and Bicca began to pull back slowly. As if the movement had snapped him back to reality, the larger Wolfos nodded and tipped his head to the side. Bicca stopped backing away and crouched on the floor, tilting his head back to get a better look.

A thick, black band was wrapped around his thick neck, partly hidden under his lengthening fur. It smelled of the Darkness and some hoofed animal, although why Iamb would be wearing a circle of prey-skin around his neck was beyond Bicca's understanding. The band was studded with chunky, black box-shapes at regular intervals. Bicca puzzled over these boxes for a while before dismissing them as nothing terribly important. The musical, jingling noise that the he had heard came from a metal ring that hung just below Iamb's throat, on the lower half of the band. Something was etched in the box-less space above the ring in glowing red. The markings looked remarkably like those on the carving, so Bicca asked curiously what they meant. Iamb grinned. "It's my name," he said. "The shadow-Man gave it to me. He has one for you as well, I think. You should go down and ask him to give it to you."

Should. Meaning "you'll go down there right now if you know what's good for you."

Bicca cocked his head to the side. "But what is it, brother?" he asked. Iamb sighed.

"It's called a collar," he answered with the air of one whose patience is on the verge of running out. "The shadow-Man gave it to me, said it was a gift from the sun Man. He says it will help us guard the Temple even more. Try to attack me—I won't lift a claw to stop you." Bicca hesitated. "Really, brother, try it! It's something to see!" Was that an edge of excitement in his voice? Iamb hadn't sounded excited about anything in years. Bicca was more than happy to oblige, if only it kept his brother talking to him.

He bounded forwards and lunged for Iamb's broad side, hoping to bring his brother to the ground that way, collar or not. The massive Wolfos didn't move a hair, but his collar did. Sheets of bright metal whipped out from the black box-shapes Bicca had noticed previously, their edges gliding soundlessly past each other. The sheets lay flat, covering Iamb's shoulders and neck in impressive looking plating. Bicca brought his leap up short just in time, and he watched in fear as the metal pushed out great spines of plating, which ran down the length of the armor from neck to mid-shoulder. Iamb's back legs bunched up under him, and he shot into the air in a wild pounce that ended with him pinning the terrified Bicca to the ground. The armor moved seamlessly with his muscular form every sideclaw of the way, sliding quietly like a second pelt. Once his grip on his brother's shoulders was secure, the metal retracted as noiselessly as it had appeared, sliding back into the collar, which was soon nothing more than its original black leather band. The markings on the center glowed like red eyes.

"Wasn't that impressive, brother?" Iamb asked. He hadn't released his grip yet, and Bicca was starting to get a little nervous. "Don't you want a collar of your own?"

Bicca gulped. "What if I said no?" he asked warily. His shoulders tensed in a half-flinch, and he wondered if Iamb would turn on him for questioning him. Iamb's brow furrowed, and Bicca tried again. "Brother, I don't think I would like to have my neck being pinched. It looks uncomfortable."

Iamb sighed and looked off to the side. For a moment, he seemed confused and when he spoke, it was in a soft murmur that sounded so unlike him. "It was uncomfortable at first. It almost made me feel like I had been betrayed, and my freedom stolen...away..." His voice trailed off, and he shook his head vigorously. "But I got used to it," he grunted in a voice that sounded more like the Iamb Bicca had come to fear. "It's made me stronger. If you want to stay weak, brother, then I can't force you to get your own collar." He looked down at Bicca, still pinned beneath his mighty paws, as if noticing him for the first time. The hefty Wolfos stepped back and let his brother up, his gaze strangely tender.

"Brother, do you ever think about what the silver Man said to us all those years ago?" Bicca asked. "About how one from the Light would come and free the Temple from Darkness?" Iamb nodded. "Do you ever wonder when he'll come to us?"

The brothers were resting in their nests one morning and chatting. Two weeks had passed since Iamb had come in with his new collar, and the change it had brought about in him surprised Bicca. The younger Wolfos hadn't had so much interaction with his brother in ages! True, Iamb would occasionally break off in the middle of something, choke, and head for the belly of the Temple...But Bicca wasn't worried about that. His tail began to wag fiercely as his brother spoke.

"The shadow-Man told me to be wary," he barked. "He said that Darkness is finding ways to disguise itself as Light, and that we should be very careful about who we let into the Temple." He bared his fangs, as if he fully expected to find an agent of Darkness wrapped in Light entering the Temple any moment.

"The silver Man said we would know," Bicca pointed out helpfully. Iamb scoffed, and there was a hint of amusement in the sound.

"We'll just have to be careful, brother," he muttered, and, heaving himself to his paws, strode towards the entrance. He stood in the doorway, his massive frame nearly blocking the entire space. Bicca managed to squeeze between a forepaw and the doorframe. The two brothers gazed out at the forest. Finally, Iamb spoke again. "The shadow-Man still won't tell me where the mother is," he mused. "He said he would tell me one day, and it's been..."

"Seven years," said Bicca quietly, although just how he knew, he wasn't sure. Iamb made a noise in the back of his throat and backed out of the doorway, his dense pelt sticking to his flanks in clumps because of the moisture in the air. He started towards the door at the back of the front room.

"I'm going to hunt," he declared. "Would you like to come with me?"

Bicca's heart leapt for joy in his furry chest, but just as he was about to nod in agreement, he was stopped by a bolt of furious, silver lightning. It struck him with the intensity of years gone by, searing his bones and sending his flesh quivering. The light flooded his mind and eyes in a glowing tide. The lean Wolfos's claws sank into the cobbled stones beneath his paws, and he gasped for breath. He waited for the sensation to pass, but it insisted on lingering. His body seemed on fire. His chest ached, his feet burned, his stomach flipped over. His muscles began to contract jerkily, and before long, he had crumbled on his side and was convulsing on the floor. Dimly, he heard retreating pawsteps as Iamb fled the scene in what Bicca only hoped was worried terror.

Then, just as the bright silver fire consuming his being reached a fever pitch, it dulled to a wonderful warm feeling. Bicca felt his burned body relax and come under his control once more. He let his thrashing paws rest gently on the stone floor and heaved a sigh of relief. He felt as though the lustrous light had burned away the Darkness left by Iamb's presence and left him as pure and clean as a newborn pup. He was drifting in a silver summer. All he knew was Light. Something wonderful was happening, but Bicca hadn't the faintest idea what. He relaxed totally, closing his eyes, and felt his mind go blissfully clear.

And in the clearness, Bicca saw something extraordinary. He saw the clear image of a Man, though the area around him was blurred. The young Man was battling the spiny plant-monsters that the spreading Darkness had sown into life. Though he fought in darkness, there was light shining all around him. Bicca felt a sense of wonder and peace. He wanted to meet this Man, the Man who was fighting the Darkness just as he, Bicca, had tried so valiantly to do. Was this the one of whom the silver Man had spoken?

Iamb bolted towards the lowering platform at the center of the room, his pelt bristled sharply. He barely knew what was happening, only that something was tugging intently at his collar. Mere heartbeats after his innocent question to Bicca, the metal ring had jingled sharply and lurched towards the Temple's darkest heart. Iamb had had to choose between racing with the tug or being strangled where he stood. His heart was racing in his tightening throat like a fearful rabbit.

The instant his paws touched the platform, his collar pulled downward. Iamb choked and reared up onto his hindpaws to lessen the pull. He strained against the force of it like an untrained dog against a leash. The strength and intensity of it startled him. True, he'd felt tugs since he'd started wearing it, but none this severe. Usually it would only take him by surprise, and only once had it bothered him enough to follow the source of the pull. The platform thumped on the floor, and the jerking began again. Iamb bounded towards the opening in the not-wall, feeling as though his collar were choking him.

Up, up, up the steps he pounded, his collar all but dragging him along with it. He burst over the top stair, out of breath and shaking. The shadow-Man was waiting for him, and one of his front paws was loosely coiled around something. At Iamb's entrance, he relaxed his paw, and the painful pull on the Wolfos's neck lessened instantly. "I...have need...for you," he grated slowly. Iamb looked up out of one eye, still trying to catch his breath. "There is...something gravely wrong."

"What?" huffed the muscular beast.

"I sense...that the Darkness...draws nearer..." The shadow-Man placed a hand on Iamb's head, and the Wolfos closed his eyes. He saw a vision of a Man with a shining stick in his paw. The Man was clear, but as the image stretched away from him it grew blurry and unfocused. Iamb saw the Man slashing at thorny plants, his shiny-stick flashing with each swipe. The shadow-Man's voice came in low, like distant thunder. "This youth...has wrapped...himself in Light. Do not...be fooled. He is...of purest Darkness...and must not enter...your Temple. He will...reach the Temple's door...in less...than two days. Be prepared."

Iamb nodded, and the vision left him. "I will warn my brother," he barked solemnly. The shadow-Man shook his head.

"He will not...believe you. Be sure that his...weakness...does not rub off...onto you. Strike when...the time is right."

The Wolfos nodded again and started towards the stairs. He had at least a day to prepare himself for the Man's approach. It pained him to have to keep such an important secret from his brother, but it was for the best. The shadow-Man was right, he reasoned. Bicca would not believe a word he said, and it would be best for Iamb to take care of the Light-wrapped Man on his own. His brother would not stand in his way. They were Temple Guardians, and if Bicca could not understand that that meant keeping their Temple safe, then he was not worthy of his title.

Though neither spoke of their experiences, the Wolfos brothers knew that something had happened to the other and they feared it. They knew that something profound had occurred, but could not understand just what. Bicca's eyes now shone brightest silver, while Iamb's smoldered deepest red. They smelled bitter and foreign to each other, and kept out of each other's ways. Neither slept; their eyes glowed in the night as they kept careful watch one another. They hunted separately. They clung to the walls when they passed in the hallway, lest so much as a single hair on their pelts brush. They were silent, each lost in their own thoughts and memories.

Words whispered through their minds at all hours, like the wind through summer trees. Bicca heard them in the voice of Rauru; Iamb, in that of Ganondorf: He is coming. Be ready...

"I'm ready."

The words were nearly stolen away by the stiff autumn wind, and they left the young man's lips in a cloud of smoke. He shivered and pulled his arms in around his chest to stay warm. The sky above was a deep, bruised shade of purple, and thunder murmured in the distance. Strands of golden-blonde hair danced across the boy's line of sight, and with a sigh, he brushed them away. In his other hand, he held a dully gleaming Ocarina, and he clutched it a little tighter before stowing it in one of his belt pouches. Once the instrument was safely tucked away, the youth pulled out what looked like a grappling hook attached to a spring-loaded chain. He aimed the hook for the overhanging branch of a dead tree, fired, and pulled himself onto the greystone landing. A few dried leaves crunched under his heavy boots, but the boy took no heed. Instead, he unsheathed his sword, readied his shield, and entered the Temple. Just as he did so, the first few drops of rain began to fall.

Almost instantly, he heard a chorus of twin howls and saw two indistinct shapes rise up in the darkness of the Temple. The bluish light in the corners of his eyes flashed bright yellow. "Watch out!" his fairy companion yelped as she dipped and wove in zigzags. The young man's eyes narrowed as he adopted a cautious stance with his shield held in front. "Wolfos! There's two of them! Be careful, Link!"

Iamb and Bicca broke away from their heated staring match at the sound of the intruder's footfalls. For a moment, they were still, straining their tired eyes to focus on their visitor. Then, they both gave voice to a wild yowl and charged. Their paws felt supercharged with energy—Bicca's a fiery silver, Iamb's a throbbing crimson—and their eyes burned to match. They let out yelps of excitement as they rushed the Man, who simply stood there and waited for their approach. When they split and ran around him, he lowered his shield just slightly and looked from one beast to the other.

It was the Man from his vision!

Bicca skidded to a halt partway through his charge, his heart thudding against his ribs. The Man's eyes, eyes that were the same dark grey (1) as deep water, seemed to bore into his very soul. There was something familiar about that cool stare, those heavy hindpaws, that loose-fitting pelt. The Wolfos sniffed, drawing in the Man's scent deeply in his curiosity. He watched Iamb lunge, only to be knocked down by a quick thrust from the large metal leaf on the Man's arm and a sharp cry of "Back!" The command in itself was familiar, not to mention the inflection of the Man's voice. The memories were just out of reach, like the last bit of flesh in a Skulltula's shell, but Bicca was reasonably sure that he knew this Man personally. But how?

The lean Wolfos raced forwards, working up his courage to approach the defensive Man. When the Man thrust out with his metal leaf, Bicca ducked underneath it and lodged himself between it and the Man. He was hoping for a closer sniff, but the youth stumbled backwardswith a cry. He flailed his arms wildly to regain his balance, and as he did, a glowing ball of furry light smacked the curious Wolfos square on the head. It squealed a stream of words at him, which Bicca only half-caught. Among them, however, was the word that made him weak with recognition.

Link.

Bicca leapt backwards joyfully to let the young Man back into the Temple. His mind was whirling happily as he realized that the visitor was none other than his beloved green-boy! Green-man, he corrected himself, watching the youth somersault away from the precarious landing and back into the Temple. His black-tipped tail began to wag. It was the mother's most trusted packmate, come to visit his Wolfos friends and rescue the mother! He let out a salvo of barks and gave a play-bow. "Brother, it's the green-boy!" he howled. "The green-boy's come! Don't you remember him?"

Iamb gave his brother a quick glance. "No," he grunted as he readied another assault on the boy. "Help me drive him off—he's full of Darkness! He has no place in the Temple!" And with that, he sprang onto his hindpaws and swung his claws. They clanged noisily off of the Man's metal leaf, striking up a flurry of brilliant sparks. As if in answer to the harsh screech, thunder boomed outside.

Bicca wove under his brother's whirling forelegs and popped up behind the green-man. He wiggled his rump playfully. He felt his old self rise up again, the joyful rogue that no one could truly hate. "Brother, I had a vision last night," he barked. "The green-man is the one the silver Man promised us!" He darted forwards and gave the back of the youth's neck a sniff. "He smells of the Light!"

"It's a disguise!" Iamb snapped, vaulting backwards to avoid a thrust from the Man's shiny stick. "He is pure Darkness! The silver Man is nothing but an old fool trying to mislead you!" He struck out again, but the Man ducked backwards and avoided his attack. "He must not enter our Temple! You're a Guardian—guard it!"

Bicca was deeply hurt by his brother's words, and he looked away in shame. Hadn't he been doing that for these seven long years? Hadn't he lashed out against the Darkness and fought for the Light? Hadn't he gone behind his brother's back and killed without eating, because the silver Man had said their hunting was a strike against the Darkness?Hadn't he stayed away from the dark Man? Hadn't he? His tail fell between his legs and he whined pitifully. "Brother, I—," he began, only to be cut off by a sickening thump. His head whipped back around to look at his burly brother.

Iamb had used his powerful shoulder to drive the green-man right into the Temple's stone sat in a limp huddle against it, his long limbs sprawled out, his head tipped back. The shiny-stick had fallen from his upturned hand, and the hand grasping the loops inside the metal leaf was open as well. He was still except for the rapid heaving of his chest as he gasped for breath. His eyes were closed, and his mouth had fallen open partway as well. Iamb stood over him, looking incredibly satisfied. "He's not dead," he reported. "Just stunned. Why don't you finish him off, brother? It should be easy, even for a shrinking coward like you."

Bicca stood in silent disgust. His mouth didn't seem to want to cooperate with his brain; he couldn't tell his brother that he would not, could not, hurt the green-man. Iamb huffed impatiently. "If that's the way you want it, I guess I'll just have to show you how it's done," he growled. "Pay close attention to how I do this." His scarlet eyes narrowed into burning slits, and his chest reverberated with a thunderous snarl. He raised his lethal claws and aimed them at the unconscious Man's exposed neck.

The younger Wolfos felt something snap inside of him. Suddenly, defying his dominant, stronger, pushier, bigger brother didn't seem like such a sin. He darted forwards and stationed himself between the other Wolfos and his intended victim before Iamb could stop his strike. As the thorn-sharp claws swept down at him, Bicca thrust up with a forepaw and knocked them away neatly. The force of his counterstrike sent Iamb sprawling. With a quick look towards his brother, the lanky beast bent his neck and gave the youth a gentle lick on the cheek. The boy grunted softly, his face twitching in pain. He opened one eye just a crack, slowly widening it in groggy surprise. "Bicca...?" he murmured. The Wolfos wagged his tail happily and gave the young Man's face another lick that sent him laughing softly. "Oh, gods...Bicca, it's you!"

Bicca woofed, his entire backside shaking with glee. He felt like a pup again, lending his shoulder in support as the green-man rose to his feet. He received a rub behind the ears for his help and a soft whisper of, "Good boy! Good boy!" He heard Iamb's feet approach and turned to meet his brother's gaze.

"Brother, it's—" He was cut short by his brother's hefty forepaw slamming full-force into his face. The swipe sent him tumbling, and his snout burned with pain. His head cracked against an exposed stone on the floor, sending the world around him spinning. "Don't hurt him!" he howled, his voice high-pitched with fear. "He's here to help us, brother!" Iamb rolled his eyes and snorted derisively, then turned on the young Man standing before him.

The room spun around him, but Bicca bravely scrambled to his feet. He saw his brother on his hindpaws, his long forelegs dangling awkwardly at his sides. He saw the green-man calling his brother's name desperately and smiling. He saw Iamb shift his weight back and knew what he had to do. With one last look at his beloved carving for strength, the lanky Wolfos bounded forwards and stood on his back legs in front of the young Man. Lightning flared across the sky, and the white light pulsed in through the doorway. Bicca's whole body and face were punctuated with dark, harsh shadows, and he looked incredibly fierce. "Brother, STOP!!" he thundered. Iamb's claws ripped through his chest in a cruel line, tearing past his ribs and ripping at the soft organs beneath. Red sprayed in all directions, spurts fueled by the frenzied pounding of Bicca's terrified heart. Fiery pain, like nothing he had ever felt before, blasted his body.

Iamb stood panting, and watched in disgusted shock as his brother fell to the ground in a limp, bloody heap. He dropped down onto all fours and pushed his nose up against Bicca's. "I'm sorry it had to end this way, brother," he whispered, his voice rough with pain. "But if you weren't so weak, you wouldn't have given your life for someone who will never return the favor. He is the Darkness, and I will kill him to protect my Temple." Bicca whined weakly and licked the muscular brute's nose fondly. His shook his head slowly.

"You're wrong...but I hope...you do not act...rashly," he gasped. "Brother...Iamb...my brother...I love you..."

Iamb sighed and returned the lick. "I love you, as well," he murmured. His red eyes grew soft as he realized that his brother was dying. "You are in pain. I will end it for you, and you will run with the stars as you always dreamed you would." Bicca's tail thumped twice as his brother's jaws closed around his neck. It was the work of a quick bite; Bicca heard his neck crunch under those strong teeth and felt his pain melt away. The silver light died from his eyes, and he closed them with a sigh. Then he felt nothing, and knew nothing but boundless joy and freedom as he left his bleeding, torn body far behind.

Iamb turned again to the quivering Man, baring his bloody fangs in a snarl of pure hatred.

(1) They're colorblind, remember.