Ganondorf awoke in the early morning, just as the sun began to rise in the east. His body ached as be stirred, being the first time he had moved in hours. He pushed against the ground as his upper body came up. Sand stuck to the side of his face as he rose up. The saliva he had drooled out through the night had dried into an adhesive, gluing the sand to his cheek. "Ugh..." he groaned, covering his face as the light from the morning sun pierced into his eyes. The bright light shoot pain though his his corneas and into his forehead.
The blow Jafora dealt to the side of his head last night had knocked him out cold. He had no time at all to eat his meager dinner, disgusting though it was. Still, his stomach ached for food. As his body shifted horizontally, and his eyes slowly becoming accustomed to the bright light, Ganondorf could see that the sun had risen a good two hour's rotation into the sky. He had slept in, in the desert. That was not entirely a very safe thing to do. Even for the Gerudo, being so exposed during the day in the desert could very likely result in death.
He slowly staggered to his feet, cracking his spinal column as he rose to a fully horizontal position. Eyes half open, Ganondorf's cheek tickled as grains of sand fell off him. Annoyed with the slow trickle. he quickly brushed off the rest from his face. As he did so, he noticed the heavy smell emanating just outside of the camp. It was a, foul sharp smell, like rotten food, that pierced up his nostrils. He scowled at the smell, and turned his attention to the north, zeroing in on the source of the smell.
Rotting food was not a far off concept, as it turned out. The pile of Lizalfos bodies had already festered. Guay and Leevers had began feasting upon the bodies. The corpses had been piled for a mere few hours, yet flies and other insects had swarmed the bodies. Meat did not last long in the desert. The scent of rotting flesh traveled far through the dunes, attracting any and every carnivore from miles around to it. So, it was no surprise to Ganondorf, seeing all the creature feast upon his fallen enemies. In fact, it pleased him. In three day's time, there would be nothing left of the Lizalfos but bones, slowly sinking into the sand, until all traces of this camp was gone.
His attention was pulled away from the body pile, however, as a hand placed itself upon his right shoulder. "Sleep well?" Jafora said as she came up around him from behind. Whatever slight surprise Ganondorf felt from the sudden touch soon turned to annoyance. "Well enough. No thanks to you" he replied. Jafora closed her eyes and shrugged as she rested on Ganondorf's shoulder. "Act like a bitch, get smacked like a bitch" she said, looking upon her student with one narrow eye, and holding her hand flatly upward, back facing Ganondorf.
Ganondorf glared at her, but fully understood her meaning. Among the Gerudo, weakness was considered both a physical and mental disability. To survive, a Gerudo had to be strong. That did not necessarily mean physically strong, as some Sisters just weren't built that way. Complaining, whining, and crying over spilled Lon Lon Milk, however, had no place in the Tribe. Acting like this, or expecting to be rewarded for miniscule deeds, was recieved with bitterness, and a swift rod to the backside.
At one time, early in his life, Ganondorf had attempted to shirk his duties, claiming that "As the future King these chores are beneath me". He had immediately regretted his words, for Child Matron Magaru ordered all the girls free time, leaving the young prince to clean the entire child barracks, alone. Ganondorf learned then that being a King did not grant him special rights, but quite the opposite. As king, he would have to do the work himself, if he ever wanted his people to grow. No good Gerudo king had been soft, and neither would Ganondorf.
Begrudgingly, he followed along with his Meister as they began their journey home. This time, as they were in no real hurry, the two Gerudo walked at a comfortable pace through the dunes. By the time they left the Lizalfos camp, the morning had almost passed, giving them little time to tread along the desert before the apex heat of the day. Only two hours into their return journey, did they stop and tarp down their meager tent.
The blanket was just enough to keep the sun's harsh rays off their bodies, as they laid down to sleep the time away. Jafora rested on her front, her arms crossed beneath her, seperating her head from the sand. She faced Ganondorf, who rested in the same position, eyes closed. "So, what did you think?" she asked, breaking the silence between them. Ganondorf kept his eyes closed. "What do I think of what?" he said.
Jafora let out a sigh. "The Lizalfos, of course". "Ganondorf's eyes opened just slightly. "What about them?" he said. Jafora lifted her head up, so that her chin rested on her hands. "This was the first time you killed a sentient creature. How does it feel?" she asked him. He closed his eyes once more, absorbing the intense heat of the sun upon his back. He laid there for a long while, becoming more and more drowsy as the sun slowly moved above him.
"Well?" Jafora said, growing impatient with her student's lack of an answer. Finally, he responded. "It felt no different than killing any other animal". Jafora accepted his answer, dropping her head back down, and eventually passing out. Ganondorf's eyes opened after a short while, allowing him to look upon his sleeping Meister. He had lied, the feeling of killing something that could think, strategize, retaliate, gave the fight much more meaning than simply hunting, or survival. He liked it.