Chapter 6: Sabotage

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Link

There was a problem with his plan, which Link quickly observed once all he had to do was wait for the sun to go down.

He was starving. He'd barely eaten after the battle yesterday, and today, of course, he hadn't eaten a single thing. Although it wasn't for lack of trying.

After bringing the bag of gunpowder closer to the village, he attempted to catch himself a rabbit – a simple task as a human. Approach from some distance away, shoot when the rabbit stood still, and then any decent archer would have a good meal.

Trying to sneak up on a rabbit, Link quickly learned, was nearly impossible. And chasing them – something he knew wolves were capable of; Beira had brought home so many he'd lost count – was far too difficult and too exhausting for him, still trying to figure out how this new body worked. Each time he got up to speed, he found himself tripping over his own feet and collapsing in a bruised heap as the rabbit made its escape. After his fifth failed attempt he gave up and decided it would be better to conserve what energy he had than drive himself to exhaustion failing to get food.

His stomach growled, the only sound from beneath the low-hanging boughs of the pine tree he was laying beneath. Elk droppings, a furrow in freshly disturbed earth, and the lingering scent of their unique heavy musk betrayed that it had once been an elk's bed.

Hopefully once this's all over, I'll have enough magic t'return t'human form – and get back t'camp, and find something t'eat, he thought longingly, trying to ignore the sharp pain from his cramping stomach. It didn't help that the wound across his side from the guardians – undoubtedly the worst injury from the battle yesterday – had reopened and begun to bleed sluggishly after the desperate rabbit chases; it was stinging fiercely, and he had no way to treat it as a wolf.

Great Goddesses, help this go well, he prayed, watching the shadows lengthening and waiting in agony of suspense for darkness to fall.

His patience thinned as the discomfort stretched on longer and longer. The stench of humans drifting occasionally strongly to his hiding place as someone walked down the main road. A tantalizing whiff of deer that likely smelled him as well, judging by how faint the scent was – they were keeping their distance. The growing hum of insects and lessening chirps of songbirds as the sun inched closer to the horizon and evening descended.

He didn't wait for full darkness; rather, when dusk had fallen, he stood up, brushed free of his hiding place, and stretched each limb before loping towards the corral. Enough f'this waiting!

Only one man stood guard – if that really was what he was doing – leaning against the fence and watching the oxen. Link glared at him for a moment, muscles tense and ready for action. He inhaled deeply, let the breath deflate his lungs on its way out. I can do this.

He charged the man just as he'd done earlier that day, leaping right as he began to turn around and, this time, measuring the distance right, his jaws locked around the man's neck and crushed the life from his body. He let go at once and turned his attention to the latch on the gate. Hah! Not even locked! The man probably hadn't been a guard, then. Not that it really mattered – he was Sheikah, and any Sheikah dead in this raid was only a bonus.

The oxen were well aware of his presence now, regarding him with the whites of their eyes showing, ears trained in his direction and tails swishing in agitation. Link pushed himself up onto his hind legs, balancing against the fence with his left forepaw, and began fiddling with the latch with his right. Paws were obnoxiously less dexterous than fingers; trying to use them as such was pointless, which he discovered only after several attempts to lift the latch free only to barely move it an inch upwards. Giving up on that idea, Link closed his mouth around the latch instead, trying to work it up and out with his tongue and teeth. It kept slipping free at the last moment; frustrated, he bit down harder on the latch and managed to grip it solidly enough to pull it out of place.

He dropped back down, and the newly-freed gate creaked slowly open. Link lowered his head and pushed it open all the way, giving the animals an easy, obvious escape. Every ox in the pen was watching him now, pawing the ground, lowing, waiting to see what he would do next. Link trotted fully into the corral, feeling almost comfortable. Just like herding sheep back home, I hope.

Wait – what are you doing, lad?

Don't worry – I've seen sheepdogs do this every summer back home, he responded confidently to Twilight. I taught Beira how, for th'Dragons' sake! He sank into a low crouch and growled softly, prowling closer, moving threateningly slowly across the ground. The oxen snorted heavily, shifting their weight – nervous, uncertain. Perfect!

But as he tried to circle around to the back of the herd, the nearest ox lowered its head with a deep grunt and lunged forward. Link felt a sudden stabbing pain in his shoulder and a solid impact as the beast's skull collided with his side. There was a breathless moment of motion as his paws left the ground and then another painful impact that resonated from his skull through his spine, leaving his vision swirling like river eddies and his breath choking out in short gasps.

Up! Get up! he urged himself, resolving to assess the damage once the danger was clear. So herding strategies didn't apply to all livestock. Head aching, he scrambled desperately at the ground, feeling tremors as the bold ox stomped a warning. Link heaved himself to his feet and instantly stumbled, deep burning pain shooting through his left shoulder.

This is why wolves generally hunt large prey as a pack! Twilight's familiar voice echoed scoldingly in his mind.

The first ox was charging again, head lowered and ready to crush him against the fence where he'd fallen. Link's blood raced and he forced himself to hold his ground, then lunge forward at the last instant, locking his jaws around the ox's foreleg. The beast bellowed in pain and spun around, butting Link's less-injured right shoulder and nearly sending him sprawling a second time. He hung on tightly to the creature's leg, maneuvering it in a circle around it as it tried to strike him again.

Don't suppose you'd lend a hand! Link thought furiously towards his ancestor, at last letting go of the ox's front leg and racing away from it.

I can't help – I'm dead and gone; I can appear to you, but I can't actually do anything but limited spirit magic in this world! Twilight shot back frantically.

Link sidestepped a second ox's angrily lowered head, blood freezing as he nearly tripped over his paws, and leapt for its hind leg, sinking his teeth deep into flesh. The ox roared loudly and bounded forward, hooves thankfully not striking Link's already battered body but nonetheless lifting him nearly off of the ground. He let go and it trotted quickly away from him, lowing in alarm; its panic was infecting the others and they backed away from Link, eyes wide, heads low. Link charged again with a fierce bark, and as his teeth met an ox's hindquarter again several in the herd finally lost their nerve and broke into an uneven, rocking gallop, charging for the open gate to the corral. Link chased behind them, snapping at fleeing heels and tails, a surge of triumph and relief singing in his blood as he drove them from the corral, out into the woods. Once the last of the oxen had left the corral, he stopped moving, flanks heaving and tongue lolling unconsciously as he panted heavily for breath, pushing through the various pains in his chest and body.

Well… it worked. Eventually.

He caught a glimpse of green and whirled on Twilight, padding casually towards him with a disappointed glare. Don't do anything like that again, the spirit growled. What, in the name of all the Goddesses, were you thinking?

Link bared his teeth in a scowl. That Beira's part wolf and manages just fine with th'sheep, he responded bitterly.

The spirit rolled his eyes and huffed frustratedly. You could have been killed so many times in there! he roared. Do you have any idea what that was like, watching you?

What was I supposed to do, then? Link retorted, catching the distant sound of panicked Sheikah voices and limping gingerly away from the corral, into the deepening gray shadows in the forest, following the scent of gunpowder. It's not like y'offerred any advice!

I didn't think you'd do something like this, Twilight growled, trotting after him. I hoped you'd stick to trying to hunt rabbits – at least until you figured out how to move properly! That's infinitely better!

There's a lerkin war going on! Link exclaimed with a sharp bark, unable to keep back a verbal manifestation of his fury. And because of you, I failed t'complete a mission against th'enemy yesterday! I'm not a coward, and I'm not a deserter – I'm determined t'finish what I started, and this's what I came up with!

He whirled around and broke into a run, only to instantly be reminded of badly bruised hips and a deep gouge in his shoulder muscles. Groaning, he slowed to a trot instead, fighting the pain with teeth bared in a grimace. He reached the rotting old log where he'd hidden the bag full of cotton sacks of gunpowder, grabbed it with his teeth, and began dragging it back towards the Sheikah village.

And what's your plan with that? Twilight asked furiously. Link couldn't see him any longer, but the presence was clear and firm in his soul. Just going to waltz right in and hope no one has a spear? Or even a pitchfork?

Link ignored him, eyes narrowed. I already lerkin know it's a half-baked plan, he thought grimly. But it's all I've got, and I'm not wasting another day!

If Twilight heard, he didn't acknowledge it. Link reached the village as a large group of torch-bearing soldiers jogged out, some breaking off towards the corral, the rest heading into the forest. The loss of their ability to transport goods wouldn't be something they could easily shrug off, and especially after six months of Zonai sabotage, it was highly suspicious.

But in their investigation they would have left the village behind poorly guarded, or so Link hoped. He trotted away from the front gate along the wall around the village – so much taller than him in this form, but with horizontal beams across that he hoped he could use to climb. He dropped the bag of powder at his paws, letting his jaws rest for a bit; then he took it up again and bounded up to the wall, launching himself as high as he could and reaching for one of the beams with his paws, feeling his claws grip the weathered wood firmly. The bag hung uncomfortably from his mouth down between his legs against his chest and stomach, and he hung for a moment, wondering grumpily if he'd just gotten himself stuck.

You look ridiculous, Twilight huffed.

I know, alright? Link snapped, feeling his muscles begin to burn from holding himself in place. I'm still figuring this all out!

He pushed himself up with his hind paws braced against the wood, then reached up for the next horizontal beam one forepaw at a time, careful to keep the bag of explosives hanging centered down his torso, giving it careful, sharp tugs when it caught on the very beams he was using to climb higher. This's a nightmare!

At the top, with a final great heave, he tossed the bag over the edge, down to the dirt path below, between the wall and a small building. He steadied himself on the thick staves at the top, trying to keep his legs from wobbling, eyeing the distance uncertainly. Better just go for it, I guess.

Building his resolve with a deep breath, he launched himself from the top of the wall and struck the side of the building, crumpling to the ground in a furry, breathless heap. For a moment he lay where he had fallen, the bruises and cracked ribs and various gouges in his flesh from the past two days all reminding him angrily of their presence. He acknowledged the pain, and then fought to push it to the back of his mind. He clawed himself to his feet and took the bag in his mouth once more.

What's your plan? Twilight hissed in his mind.

I'm taking out that storehouse of guardian parts.

Are you insane? If anyone sees a wolf in the village, they'll attack! Trust me, I've experienced it for myself!

They'll have t'catch me first, Link responded grimly, sniffing deeply for the scent of smoke over the sulfuric tang of gunpowder in his nose.

You're so confident in your speed, Twilight scoffed. And what happens when you trip over your own feet and lose all of your momentum?

Link ground his teeth together, certain that if he had been a human in that moment, he would be blushing. He chose not to respond, instead focusing on the multitude of scents assaulting his nostrils. The unwashed, sweaty, putrid odor of humans was nearly as strong as the scent of gunpowder right up in his face, much stronger than it had seemed from outside the village. By th'Dragons, I hope we Zonai don't smell as bad.

Beneath it all, he caught a whiff of woodsmoke – a fire, somewhere in the village. He trotted towards it, around the rear ends of the shops and homes he passed, circling wide around chicken pens to avoid causing panic but treading purposefully and bitterly through little vegetable gardens, crushing leaves and occasionally carrots and squash beneath his broad, heavy paws. The fading sun had left the world dark and gray – perfect lighting for a wolf skulking between shadows to be less easily noticed. Firelight glowed from within most dwellings, and he could see the silhouettes of the people inside through the large, papery windows, likely settling in for dinner or getting ready for bed. The ordinary residents were entirely unaware that their guards had left them alone and undefended.

Slinking through alleyways, he found the storehouse containing guardian materials before he came across any accessible source of fire. His eyes narrowed – it was guarded by four torch-bearing men standing with yari spears and naginata polearms alongside two additional standing iron torches illuminating their immediate surroundings. Helpful information, t'least. But… getting past them… that'll be a real challenge.

He retreated slowly back into the darkness between houses, and one of the men gave a start and peered forward, likely catching the soft whisper of the cotton bag sliding across the dirt. Link's heart leapt to his throat; quickly he closed his eyes, recalling a host of memories of seeing the eyes of beasts reflect light in darkness and betray their position. Slowly lifting his head so that the bag hovered just above the ground and wouldn't drag in the dirt, he continued his retreat, turning his tail towards the guards and opening his eyes once he was no longer facing them –

A sudden flood of light, and an angry voice shouting in the Sheikah tongue. Link spun around, lips curled over his bared teeth, to face the guard standing over him with torch and yari. Hang it all! He'll call his comrades – they have spears – can't fight this one –

Growling in frustration, he dashed away from the guard, through the meandering roads of the village. The heavy clomp of footsteps behind him, and additional voices raised in angry shouts, told him that the guards had indeed given chase.

Originally he'd planned to find some sort of campfire, light the bags of gunpowder one by one, and carry them one at a time to different places across the Sheikah storehouse so that, when eventually the fire burned through the oil-soaked sack and reached the gunpowder beneath, the entire building would go up in flames.

But there was no campfire, only torches far out of reach. He could circle back to the storehouse now that the guards had abandoned their post to chase him, but without access to fire he couldn't light the bag of gunpowder and set off the inferno.

They have their own torches, though. In their hands. Meaning f'they dropped one, I could take it and use it!

He bolted down a side road leading in the direction of the storehouse, a new plan quickly forming in his mind. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the deep stinging ache in his left shoulder; he was getting close to his limit.

He saw the glow from the standing torches outside the building just ahead and put on an extra burst of speed – a forepaw collided with something far less dense than the dirt path, something that rolled beneath him, and at once he tripped and fell onto the bag of gunpowder, his own body weight yanking it from his jaws and sending him sprawling on his back in the dirt. With a growl of frustration he rolled over and lurched to his feet, snatching the bag back up and limping the last few yards to the sliding door to the storehouse.

His pulse thrummed faster hearing the approaching footsteps from the guards. Panting heavily from the run, he stood up on his hind legs, braced himself against the wall, and pawed at the sliding door, struggling to open it enough to enter. An inch – then another; not enough – these wolf legs weren't meant to move sideways –

Dropping back to all fours, he shoved his nose through the gap between the doors and the wall and used his head to shove it open the rest of the way. Then quickly he grabbed the bag of gunpowder and darted into the building, just as the four Sheikah guards rounded a corner and shouted after him, triumph in their voices now.

He set the bag down at last in the middle of the narrow walkway between shelving units full of materials, then hurried back to the entryway, crouching down just inside the door. Either this works, or I'm dead.

The Sheikah guards dashed inside, speaking in wary tones to each other. Link waited, frozen, barely daring to move as they slowly, warily passed by his hiding place. At a word from one, two of them broke away and began to head deeper into the building, while the other two remained near the door. The first two found the bag of gunpowder almost immediately and called out to the door guards; one of them hurried forward curiously, leaving only one man at the entrance.

Link lunged from the darkness, striking the man square in the back and sending him crashing to the ground with a startled shout, dropping both his spear and his torch. Link lunged for the torch, reaching for it instinctively with his right forepaw before remembering his condition and bending to snatch it in his jaws instead. The heat was extremely uncomfortable on his face; his chest tight with new fear, he ran towards the bag on the ground, sending the Sheikah guards backing away at first with cries of shock at the sight of a wolf wielding a torch. Link tilted his head to set the flaming end of the torch against the cotton exterior of the bag, waiting with a racing heart for it to catch.

The Sheikah gasped and pointed at him wildly, speaking quickly and with great distress in their language. Link caught a glimpse of the flash of new flame out of the corner of his eye and exhaled deeply in relief – if he could only keep the Sheikah away from the bag before it caught the gunpowder inside, he would succeed.

One of the guards raced from the storehouse, presumably to grab water. The other three leveled their spears at him, ready to attack. Link tossed the torch in their direction and they backed away just a bit; one man bent to pick it up and Link snapped at him, sending him jumping back in shock. He growled, teeth bared in a snarl, doing his utmost to look and sound as threatening as possible. F'I can get them t'lose their nerve about attacking me…

He could feel the flames behind him growing larger. Soon most of the bag would be burning, and then it wouldn't be much longer before the flames spread through the oil-soaked sacks of powder beneath and reached the gunpowder.

He snapped at the middle guard just as the man on the far right jabbed forward with his naginata. Because Link had already been in motion, the blade didn't skewer him, but rather slashed painfully across the top of his back. Link yelped at the pain, flinching away, and at once his spell of intimidation was broken – all three men lashed out at him and he darted to the side, between two tall shelving units – the only option available to him. No more time!

But at the far end of the alley between units there was not in fact a walkway, as he'd hoped. He lunged upwards instead, paws scrabbling at the shelves and knocking guardian chunks and materials down, inadvertently raining them on the Sheikah below. Clawing his way to the top, he leapt from one unit to the next towards the door, knowing that the flames should reach the gunpowder at any moment.

The guard that had gone for water reached the door to the storehouse at the same time Link did. Link jumped down from the top of the last shelving unit and bowled the man over for the second time that night, just as the men still in the storehouse looking for him screamed in tandem. A sudden deep roar of flame and a fierce wave of heat struck Link's back as the bag of gunpowder ignited and rose into a column of fire. Link sprinted through the door and glanced over his shoulder to see a massive pillar of flame licking up from the middle of the storehouse as the gunpowder caught fire. And past the door he could see it spreading to the nearest shelving units and the flooring, and licking at the roof – he felt confident that the entire building would soon catch as well.

He dashed down the streets of the village, feeling an increasing sense of urgency to escape. He followed his first glimpse of the wall, shimmied up the side – it was much easier the second time – and leapt to the ground. Tongue lolling heavily in fatigue, he looked up at the sky, scanning the stars for familiar constellations to orient himself with. High time I get out f'enemy land!

Once he'd determined which direction his camp was in, he took off at a swift trot through the forest, brushing softly through wild grasses and between scraggly bushes. He could hear shouts coming from the village, but none that seemed to be following him; the more distance he put between himself and the village walls, the more his racing heart began to slow back to a normal pace, draining the adrenaline from his blood. His head hung lower and lower; the wounds new and old across his body stung fiercely and his limp became more and more pronounced until he could barely stand to put any weight on his left foreleg at all; the thick fur across his shoulder was matted and slick with blood.

He reached the river and lay down on a small patch of soft dirt on the shore, stretching his neck out over the water to drink deeply. When his thirst was sated, he turned his gaze to the opposite bank – to the safety so close, yet so far.

Our scouts may have seen th'smoke and gone t'investigate, he thought. F'they see me like this, well…

He doubted they would attack unless he was openly hostile towards them – it wasn't as if they were protecting livestock out here. But he was hesitant about crossing the river and getting that much closer while still in this form. He lifted his nose and sniffed deeply, searching for the scent of man. And he caught it – close by, but definitely not within earshot, or even visible, from the opposite riverbank. He couldn't help a flash of smug satisfaction – the Zonai smelled quite strongly of sweat and gunpowder, but not of waste and suspicious rock the way the Sheikah did.

With a pained grunt he pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly, and turned his gaze down to his paws. Let's get this over with.

Twilight's voice betrayed instant alarm. What? Get what over with?

Transforming, Link shot back. I've got t'get back. Surely I've gone long enough without using magic by now that it's not so depleted.

Maybe it's not, but look at yourself! Twilight exclaimed. You're injured, you're exhausted – the transformation takes a lot out of you as you are now!

Sure, but I also have wounds that need treated, Link thought, breathing deeply, bracing himself. He closed his eyes. Don't distract me.

I just worry for you, Twilight huffed, and Link was strongly reminded of Frokar. But when he didn't say anything else, he felt confident in turning his focus to the spirit magic deep within him. He felt a pang of guilt for his impatience with the spirit – the Guardian Wolf, no less, and his direct ancestor; he could only imagine the scolding Frokar would give him if he knew –

Shaking his head with a sigh, he drew on the spirit magic and concentrated. Last time it had taken sending spirit magic through every inch of his body to transform into a wolf in the first place – if he did the same as a wolf, he hoped, he would return to human form.

The green spirit glow took his right forepaw. He pushed it further, up through his leg, towards his chest – it began to burn again, as it had before, and he grunted at the discomfort, trembling slightly as he fought to retain his concentration. He sent the power down his left foreleg, clenching his teeth tightly as the burn of spirit magic mingled with the wound in his shoulder; his breath stuttered and he felt the flow of magic slow. No… No! I will do this!

He was trembling violently now, every muscle clenched against the burn of spirit magic even as he felt the toes of his paws elongating into fingers, as he felt his snout shrinking back into a normal human face. Sweat dripped down his brow as he fought with the power, sending it down his body, turning fur to flesh; as it took his hind legs he collapsed to his stomach with a sharp cry of pain, feeling his bones twisting and shifting, his tailbone shrinking down. He clung to his concentration on the magic, held it in place across his body, not knowing how he would know when everything was back to normal –

You can let go now, Twilight's voice sounded, thick with worry. You're human again.

Link went limp with a hoarse moan, breathing hard, and felt the spirit glow recede from his skin. Dimly he felt the familiar weight of his matchlock across his back, the hilt of his sword digging into his side, the sturdy cloth lining his gambeson against his skin. He kept his eyes closed, tremors of fatigue wracking his body; he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep right then and there and not move for a month.

But… th'Sheikah side f'th'river…

It was shallow enough to wade through here. He was so close to safety.

Grunting from the effort, he pushed himself to his knees and then to his feet, staggering backwards until his back stuck a tree trunk as a wave of dizziness smeared across his thoughts and vision. He waited, breathing hard and gripping the tree behind him, until it faded and he could see; then he started back towards the river, fighting a grim smile at not having to limp anymore.

The water was refreshingly cold as it engulfed his boots and then knees and thighs; he splashed some across his face in the middle of the river and blinked away the droplets, feeling his foggy mind clear if only a little bit. His legs wobbled with each step, struggling to push through the current, and they gave out the instant he made it to the far end, sending him crumpling to his hands and knees. His vision wavered as he knelt, telling himself it would just be for a moment –

"Link? That you, lad?"

Wearily he lifted his head. "Fro… Frokar?" he croaked, squinting into the darkness. The badger stripe on the headdress was unmistakable, as was the wide grin on the elder's weathered face.

"By th'Dragons, I'd feared th'worst when y'didn't return with th'others," the shaman gasped, kneeling at his side and resting a hand on his shoulder. He withdrew his hand at once, frowning at the blood, and peered closer at Link's face. "Y'look like y've been skinned t'lerk," he noted with worry. "What happened?"

Link met his gaze wearily, not sure at all if he had the strength to move from this spot by the shore. "Finished th'mission," he mumbled.

Frokar's eyes went wide. "Destroying th'new shipment?" he whispered in astonishment. "All on your own? By th'Dragons…" He shook his head. "Can y'stand? We'll get y'back t'camp, have a medic look y'over."

Link nodded without conviction and gripped Frokar's forearm tightly as he struggled to his feet. Frokar pulled his good arm over his shoulder and slowly started helping him away from the river, into the low scrubby bushes surrounding their camp. Link's head drooped in fatigue; he focused on sliding one trembling foot in front of the other, mustering the strength to step over larger rocks in their path to avoid tripping. When Frokar stopped walking abruptly he stumbled forward almost drunkenly, caught off guard; he lifted his head and saw ten horned shadows emerging from the brush just ahead of them, fragile moonlight glimmering silver off of the wolf fur on their shoulders. Wolf warrior scouts? But… why're they wearing their… their helmets? While scouting?

"You'll go no further, old man," one of them snarled. Link's blood sang in alarm, and he raised his head higher. He was familiar with all the wolves under Colonel Nerthin's command – he'd never heard this man's voice before.

Frokar merely hmmmed thoughtfully. "Figured there was something off about you," he said coldly. "Y'wear th'paint f'th'Skeldrite, but it does not gleam with th'power f'th'ancestor spirits."

One of the men raised a crossbow. Link realized with a chill that the bolt was aimed directly at his heart. "Frokar," he whispered huskily. "What's going on?"

"Call for help and we will kill your friend," the man with a crossbow warned. His voice sounded… off somehow. His words were too clearly enunciated.

"Y'have my attention," Frokar growled. "I'll not shout out. Now, I expect there's something y'want from me – what is it?"

Link slipped his arm from Frokar's shoulders and spread his feet slightly further apart, trying to steady his stance. This was in no way a normal encounter – these Zonai had likely turned traitor, or perhaps they weren't Zonai at all – merely Sheikah in disguise, like the flameless deadiggers that had started the war in the first place. They didn't have the telltale white hair and crimson eyes – but I've already seen that they can use magic t'change their appearances!

"You'll come with us quietly, without struggling," the first man demanded. "Raise your hands, over your head. Don't make any move for a weapon." He sounded even less convincingly Zonai than his companion; Link was certain now that he was a Sheikah. His blood boiled.

But Frokar obliged, his features set in a bitter scowl, and lifted his hands to his head. One of the Sheikah started forwards with rope held ready; Link held his breath, his right hand twitching for a weapon. He glanced warily at the man with a crossbow. Frokar's our best chance against guardians. I can't let them do… whatever it is they're planning.

He waited until the man was almost within arm's reach. Then he yanked his sword from its sheath and thrust it forward with all of his remaining strength, sinking it deep into the Sheikah man's chest. At once he heard the sharp release of the crossbow, and pain erupted from his chest drawing a strangled shout of pain from his throat. Link looked down in horror at the thick crossbow bolt embedded several inches deep in the center of his chest and knew he was dead.

He felt Frokar's hand on his shoulder and the next thing he knew the old man's anxious face was swimming before his eyes. The pain suddenly intensified and he screamed, feeling as if the last dregs of life had been torn from his body; through his tunneling vision he could see Frokar cast aside a bloodied crossbow bolt and then flash his hand a bright spirit green. A soft, familiar melody echoed through his ears as his senses began to wink out, one by one, leaving him with only a song that he did not expect to be sung for him so soon.

He had collapsed at some point; through dimming eyes he could see Frokar reaching for him desperately with the magic in his hand and then get struck in the head with a sword's pommel, one of the Sheikah looming behind him…

The melody continued, a wolf's eerie howl somehow finding the notes. Link gasped weakly for breath, each movement of his lungs sending brutal pain tearing through him. He waited in dread for the final moment, for darkness to take him…

But instead he felt his senses sharpening. He was aware of his ragged breaths rasping in his ears, of the feeling of cold, hard ground and bushy, prickly grass poking at his neck and cheek, the skin on his arms exposed by his gambeson. And the sharp, devastating agony in his chest was steadily fading. Beneath the angry shouts of Sheikah speaking in their tongue he could hear, quite clearly, the wolf's howl –

And he could see Twilight, walking towards him with a grave expression.

The old man started the healing spell, he said solemnly. I am drawing from his own prodigious spirit magic to continue the spell, and save your life. It won't be enough to cure all of your wounds, nor replenish your strength. He bared his teeth, his expression fierce and determined. But you will live!