Chapter 17
Warm steppes made way for cold, rocky paths. Rocky paths that were soon covered in a blanket of snow. After miles of winding inclines that left horses steaming with heat and their riders with cherry-tipped noses, the highest summits in Hyrule's territory seemed in grasping distance. Summer had irrevocably been pushed into oblivion; on Snow Peak, winter reigned cold and harsh. All year round. Only the most rugged pine trees ever succeeded in adding a splash of emerald to the vast crystal expanse.
Anouki Township held an industrial charm and was as ugly as it was efficient. The timber houses commonly built around Hyrule had morphed into grey stone fortresses insulated with limestone mortar and blackened with soot from coal furnaces, uniform in both colour and structure, with heavy tile roofs to hold up the few feet of perpetual snow as well as the unfortunate offspring tasked with shovelling off the excess every other week. The homes were strung up in grids, as was common in colonies with time and effort put into their planning, and the streets branching off at regular intervals were rarely curved. If they indeed indulged in a more interesting contour, it was to skirt a large rock or follow the cliff wall the township was nestled against.
The residents walking the streets were all packed in neat blue fur anoraks with hoods that framed their faces in white cotton wool. Wolfos fur, as Ashei enlightened her colleagues. The monsters were regularly hunted for their hide and pelt. The culture reigning here was as severe as the perpetually freezing landscape they had set up in, and monster hunting was a popular sport.
Ashei Amauger led her fellowship of frostbitten riders along the main street past the worker's inns and smoke-houses until the town's fort loomed like a block building before them, blending almost seamlessly into its background of grey mountain stone until only the gargoyles and glowing tower windows hinted at the years of manpower that had once flowed into it. It was unremarkable in design—heavy battlements, courtyard, two towers, stables, kitchens, servants' quarters—except for one incongruous detail: the richly embroidered banner hanging above the main entrance, dyed purple with a brown and green depiction of a diminutive hazelnut underneath the Amauger insectile swirls making up the family emblem.
Contrary to all rationality, the fort's inside felt even colder than the courtyard commonly swept by the elements. And though a fire had been lit somewhere in the entry hall's back end—detectable only by a half-hearted wheezing—Link could feel the chill creep through the layers of wool he had wriggled himself into. His ears had turned to ice beneath his floppy green cap, hidden and further insulated with his cloak's hood in a vain attempt to dissuade the cold from abusing his most vulnerable appendages. As a Hylian with pointy ears, he had learned from a very young age just how crippling frostbitten ear tips could be. It was another major disadvantage compared to Humans, he would argue, whose plain round ears allowed for much better blood circulation and so easily fitted beneath simple wool caps.
Standing with clicking teeth in the grand hall he knew, at least, that his predicament was shared. Auru was just as aware of his aching ears as Link, and the noble Resistance leader had long ago dropped his sense of propriety and knotted a bright yellow scarf around his head that made him look like a ReDead with poor fashion sense. But when one's comfort was compromised, looks and self-image tended to fade into the background.
Which could not be said of the elderly woman who materialised at the top of the stairs. Aveline Amauger was like a portrait. The portrait, to be exact, Link had always imagined of his queen, King Gustaf's wife, with the only exception that, in his head, Queen Maëlys had worn a regal smile. The Dowager Countess Amauger was in her mid-sixties, thin, tall, and tragic. Her crimson velvet dress cuffed with unidentifiable black fur made her look like she had just taken a bath in blood. Her face was cut from marble, stiff and pale like Ashei's, with just barely any wrinkles visible to betray her age. Silver curls cropped just above the shoulders gave her the appearance of a courtly judge. She stood at the top of her central stairwell like a statue of scorn, and Ashei visibly stiffened when, after a moment of icy contemplation, her mother finally marched down the steps.
"You're late," the countess said, stopping before the gathered Resistance and regarding her daughter intensely. "Don't they teach you punctuality in the military? And take off those filthy boots, girl, you're making the marble weep."
"Mother," Ashei said, speaking like she'd just downed a cup of soured milk. "We're here for the supplies I asked of you. We will also need Hum's help and the dogs, if Your Excellency can bear the thought of parting with them."
Link hadn't thought those ropy lips could purse any more, but there they went. "Won't you introduce me to your lovely companions first, 'Shei?"
Grudgingly, Ashei rounded the men up and watched as they greeted the Dowager. Link, first in line and having never properly greeted a noble lady before—not as a Hylian, at least—stuck out his hand and shook Aveline Amauger's wrinkly equivalent firmly until he thought he felt the rabbit bones inside crumble and crunch beneath his grip. The lady's countenance of utter shock made his cheeks light up like candles—perhaps the only source of heat in that frozen castle.
Auru did it right, scooping up the mess Lady Aveline's hand had become and guiding it fingers-first to his lips to cover them with a feathery kiss. "Pardon the apprentice, my Lady, he's a humble soul from Ordon Village," he said, lips quivering with amusement.
"I see," Lady Amauger wheezed, frowning at the onion-coloured turban on the leader's head before turning with apprehension to Rusl who awkwardly mimicked Auru's hand kiss. "Times are dire indeed if proper squires have to be fetched from so far away."
Link wasn't sure if she'd meant it as a compliment or an insult; her choice of words suggested the former even though her tone conveyed the latter. But when he dared look at her again, he saw with relief how her silver eyes, scrutinising him, had softened a bit. It was frost where before there had been ice, but at least it was something, and the blizzard he'd felt blasting from her direction had diminished to a minor gale.
They were each offered a private room in the fort's visitor wing—apart from Ashei who grudgingly accepted her childhood nursery—and after much debating and pacifying, Auru and Rusl eventually convinced her to accept her mother's offer for dinner. After Link had made sure Midna was accommodated and as warm as she could get in a room insulated like a cave, he stepped outside only to be picked up by a servant who sat him down at a long table in the fort's dining room. The hall was too large to preserve the hearth's warmth coming from the back, and Link's breath turned to wisps as he sat shivering on a wool cushion next to Rusl.
The food, at least, was hot and spicy, and small beads of sweat soon formed on his forehead. Combined with the sweet mulled cider he was served, the fort's chilliness melted away until he was compelled to remove his cloak and shawl.
It was here, too, that Link was first privileged to witness a noble's idea of entertainment. The Dowager ate with pristine decorum while a torrent of facts, each as mundane and trivial as the next, flowed from her lips educating them about mining procedures, the harshness of the endless Snow Peak winter, storm precautions, and the fort's design that was, if not innovative, sturdy and primitive enough to withstand centuries of unrelenting cold.
Unbeknownst to them, Aveline Amauger had found herself a victim for her own entertainment, and during dessert, which turned out to be—Link could barely contain his joy—a traditional Ordon pumpkin pie, she sprung her trap.
"I hear you are a blacksmith, Master Rusl? My husband and I were the head of the mining industry in this area, and our workers in the township stayed loyal to me even after he died. We are still, to this day, Hyrule's main supplier of silver. You might have heard of the Amauger Silver Bar."
"Indeed I have, Countess. The finest silver I've worked with." Rusl, having just finished his second slice of pie, cautiously dabbed at his beard with his napkin, a content sigh escaping him.
"Of course it is. We sell only the best parcels. Our Silver Bar reflects the purity of our family's virtues, our dedication to the craft, and our solid stance against the monster scourge. In that regard, at least, my little 'Shei has proven her worth. Much like you have, Master Smith. Weren't you the lovely young man who once coveted my daughter?"
Ashei gave a startled snort into her wine cup and sprayed half of it across the table linen. "Mother! He's married, for Din's sake!"
The Dowager bristled at the remark and the blood red droplets that now covered her tablecloth. "Oh, what a pity. You see, Ashei was my late husband's pride and joy, the son I could never give him. I always thought she ought to be a bit more lady-like, you know, live out her womanly traits rather than try to represent a gender she was not born into. You two are the same age, work in the same field. I thought that, perhaps, old flames could have been rekindled. After all, it is every mother's wish to one day be blessed with grandchildren."
Link watched with disconcertion how his foster father turned pink. "It's true, my Lady, that Ashei and I were training partners in our youth. There is a certain charm that befalls a young man when presented with a woman his equal, perhaps even his superior, in fields considered to be mostly male. But my attraction to her was purely superficial. I would disrespect her, not to mention my own wife and children at home, if I rekindled that old infatuation."
"Clearly," the Countess sighed. "Of course you'd do that. Nevermind then. I shall remain without the joy of grandchildren, then, alone in this big castle with nothing but the cold to keep me company."
"Mother, quit dramatising," Ashei sighed. From the moment they'd sat down at the still unladen dinner table, she'd looked like she deeply regretted her decision to go through with the meal.
"And you, Sir Auru?" Lady Amauger homed in on the leader, paying her daughter no mind. "Of course you already have one or two lovely little grandchildren running in your garden, haven't you?"
"Sadly not, my Lady," he replied, absently picking at his pie. He had remained uncharacteristically quiet for most of the evening.
"No? Don't tell me a successful man such as yourself hasn't ever tasted the joys of marriage."
"I have, my Lady, but like so many things in life, it wasn't meant to last."
"Oh dear me, how tragic. From a lonely old woman's perspective, however, it means that a desirable man is once more available, doesn't it?"
"Mother, that's enough!" Ashei was now angry enough to bolt to her feet, kicking the chair backwards into a waiting servant's arms. He looked like he'd been expecting it.
"I'm just making pleasant conversation, dear," the Dowager answered calmly. "As is common among hosts and guests."
"There is nothing pleasant about it," Ashei grated. "You're bored out of your mind, and whatever smallest titbit of juicy drama you can find you gobble up like a treat, just as you've always done. It's loathsome!"
For a split second, Link thought he would witness the cold façade finally drop from Lady Aveline's face. There was a twitch of her eyelids, a glimmer that briefly doused her silver eyes, but she caught herself before these emotions could properly surface. An even frostier countenance of displeasure overtook her doll-like face.
He was met with a grim realisation; not all families grew up happy. For the first time, Link was confronted with a family broken apart before the Twilight even hit. Ashei's mother lived in this big stone castle by herself, driven—as she had subtly hinted during her monologue—into her marriage against her will, and the only satisfaction she'd ever gained from this involuntary lifestyle was the prospect of children warming her days with laughter. Her only daughter had decided to follow in her father's footsteps, the exact opposite her mother had hoped for. Now she could not distinguish disappointment, longing, from bitterness. It rendered her as cold as the walls that framed her, made her cast this resentful shadow over every person she came across, perhaps even blaming those who had found happiness and contentment for her own miserable fate.
If anything, Link pitied her; the Dowager was a dissatisfied, very lonely woman. And though he was at odds with Rusl at the moment, he sure was glad he had been brought up in a loving, carefree family instead of a broken home like Ashei's.
"I humbly beg your pardon, Masters Auru and Rusl, if my words offended you," the countess finally said, grudgingly, pressured by Ashei's thundering gaze.
"It is given," Auru answered, and Rusl nodded beside him. "Do not dwell on it, my Lady. I cannot imagine how painful the loss of your husband must have been for you. I, at least, know that Yesha is still alive, even though no longer affiliated to me."
"Your kind words humble me, Sir Auru," Lady Amauger answered absently. "But I can see on your face that you're itching for a different topic. Why don't you enlighten me?"
"Guilty as charged. I had hoped you could offer us some insights about the Yeti that attacked Anouki Township. It passed through here the day before yesterday, right? What did it look like? What did it do? Was it carrying a bundle of red fish?"
The countess put down her cutlery and sat back with pursed lips. "You ought to talk to Humley, my ranger. He is preparing your sleigh along with the man who returned from the hunt and made that hideous sketch. If you'd follow me, I'll show you to the sled-house and the kennels. Enjoyed the pie, boy?"
Luckily, Link had been chewing on his last bite of pumpkin pie when his companions rose from their seats. He couldn't tell if his respect for the Dowager or the Agency leader would have sufficed to pull him away from this rare joy of homely nostalgia before every last crumb had vanished from his plate. Hastily he nodded, mimicking Rusl's napkin dabbing rather less gracefully than intended.
With the countess in the lead they left the fort's main building into a quiet evening snowfall and headed for the sled-house, which was situated in the east wing forming the courtyard square. There they were met with two men in the process of loading packages onto one of the sleds. Link had never seen that kind of sleigh before; it was boat-shaped and streamlined, and at the front its skids curved to transition back into a narrow platform for the cargo. In the middle was a raised handlebar that reached over the extending skids, possibly to allow someone to stand on them during the ride.
Loud barking soon erupted from the adjacent room, and Link felt himself grow tense. He'd assumed correctly; to pull the sleighs across the mountains, Anouki people indeed used dogs. That realisation didn't quite bring the kind of excitement as it once might have, if the Wolf's discomfort radiating from within him was any indication. Those barks sounded loud and guttural, suggesting the sled dogs were a large breed sturdy enough to withstand the harsh winter cold. Large enough to challenge him?
The two men greeted them with varying degrees of cordiality. Humley, a middle-aged man with a friendly smile and peaceful demeanour, shook hands with each of the Resistance members and even gave Ashei a brotherly hug, which the Hyrulean captain returned warmly. The second man seemed anything but comfortable and skulked in the background while Humley concluded the introductions.
"Aye, he saw the Yeti, all right," Humley said. "Tell them, Aroo. How you made that sketch and all."
Aroo looked like a Human ferret, full-cheeked and suspicious with a round chin and dark eyes. He grudgingly accepted Auru's copy of the drawing, studying it while rubbing his cheek absently where Link could make out a long, barely healed scar.
"You reported that this Yeti attacked your men and killed all except you," Auru said.
The man frowned. "No, I said that my men died during a fight with that Yeti, but it killed none of them. An avalanche did. I was the only one who managed to get to safety in time."
Auru exchanged a look with Ashei, who frowned.
"So it did not attack you?" he asked.
"Yes, it did. We defended ourselves."
"But you just said your men died in an avalanche."
Aroo rolled his eyes and tapped the parchment bearing Shad's drawing. "We tracked it into the highlands where it stopped and attacked us. We drove it back just as the avalanche reached us. I had taken a hit to the head and was bleeding, which is why my scout leader told me to get shelter by the ridge to make the sketch the lady had requested. Barely a few seconds later we saw the avalanche come down the mountain for us and I barely avoided it. The others all got swallowed. The Yeti was gone, and I found no one alive. I had to make the sketch from memory after… after I tried to dig out my comrades."
Link felt the weight of the man's words heavy in the air even though he had no notion of what an avalanche was. A new type of monster he hadn't encountered yet? A natural phenomenon? Or an attack conjured by the rogue Yeti?
After a brief pause of consideration, Auru continued. "Was the Yeti different from others you've seen? Did it act strangely?"
"It didn't act like any normal Yeti I've ever seen. They keep to themselves, and they never come close to settlements."
"Was it bigger than usual?"
"Only as big as a fully grown male Yeti gets, around ten or eleven feet."
"So the only strange thing about this Yeti was that it came to the township?" Ashei asked, glancing at her mother suspiciously. The Dowager had remained silent and watchful like a hawk the entire time.
"You see, our information conflicts with what you're telling us, Master Aroo," Auru said coldly. "You were the only one who returned from that mission. Perhaps you remember the details wrong."
"Are you calling me a liar?" The man's face turned red with fury, a reaction Link hadn't expected on such a scale. Even though Auru's allegation hadn't specifically claimed untruth, the Anouki townsman seemed livid just at the notion of it. Under any other circumstances that reaction would have conjured more doubt about the man's credibility, but his next words proved the accusation had hurt the man's pride, not rendered him more nervous.
"Anouki townspeople never lie, Sir Auru," Aroo spat. "We've got principles up here, principles that keep us alive. Either your sources are wrong, or you misremember them. Here are the facts: the beast went all the way to the Domain and stole a few fish, then passed through Anouki to break into the fort's food reserves. It was aggressive when we approached it, and damaged buildings on its way out, but it did not kill any of my men."
Auru was briefly stumped. "Say that again; it broke into the fort's pantry?"
This time the Dowager answered him. "Indeed, Sir Nahamani. Stole some cheese, some vegetables, and took off again. A kitchen boy woken by the ruckus saw its outline slink away into the night. Scared the living daylight out of him, too, poor boy. I personally asked the town council to assemble a scout team and track that beast down. You see, despite its size it was remarkably quick, using darkness to hide itself from us. We needed a proper size estimate before we could send a team out to kill it. Master Aroo's scout team was not meant to engage it, only to study it. Clearly we underestimated the beast's cunning."
Auru frowned in such a way that betrayed his doubt in the countess' words. Ashei, weathered by a lifetime of strife with her mother, took the more direct route.
"You told me in your letter that it wreaked havoc in the town and killed nine people," she growled. "Was it as aggressive as you claimed, or wasn't it?"
"Calm yourself, dearest. There is no need to shout."
"There is if I find out you lied to me, Mother."
"She said it killed my men?" Aroo asked, looking furious.
"I misinterpreted your report, good townsman," the Dowager replied just as calmly. "No one is lying here."
Link, Hylian ears perked with unease by the conflict, heard Aroo mutter under his breath, "Not a real Anouki, never will be, honourless in-lawed matron…" Even the town seemed to despise her. No wonder she segregated herself in her cold fort by herself.
"Fabulous!" Ashei snorted. "We might have come all this way for nothing."
"You haven't, 'Shei."
Humley had spoken this time, sounding oddly pressed. "We have reason to believe that this Yeti was the one who created the avalanche. The mountains have been rumbling with them ever since it first showed up a month ago. We can hear them across the crags and the valley every two or three days. We are living in fear of the mountains now, waiting for the snow to come down on top of us. It's just a matter of time before the township is buried." He gestured vaguely at the ceiling.
"Superstition," Ashei replied, but she sounded unconvinced. "This is the first time I've heard of such abilities."
Auru approached her. "We have no idea what powers these Mirror pieces hold," he murmured into her ear. "They just might be capable of this."
She frowned, but nodded and turned back to the two men. "We have two options: either we go out to find that creature, or we wait until it comes back and confront it here."
"Absolutely not!" Aroo exclaimed. "What if we're right and it can conjure avalanches? It'd be like Hum said, the whole town could be buried. I won't allow you to endanger our wives and children."
"He's got a point," Rusl interjected. "We have the fish sample, we can track it down and kill it out in the open where an avalanche would endanger none but us. Maybe we can even lure it out and meet it on our terms somewhere where it's unlikely an avalanche will occur."
"Agreed," Ashei answered. "Hum, I want two sleighs ready for departure at dawn tomorrow. Take only as many dogs as you need to pull the weight, the quietest mutts you have. We'll be going on foot alongside them to prevent excessive noise. Sir Auru, do you agree with me being in command for this mission?"
Auru's eyes flickered towards Link for a fraction of a second before he answered. "Aye, Captain. You'll be in command concerning all things survival and navigation-related, but I want to make it clear that we won't put ourselves or anyone else in danger until we know what we're dealing with. If I say retreat, you all will follow my orders. Is that clear?"
He looked at Rusl at his last words, and the Ordonian smith jutted his lips forward in return. "Say that to Link, Auru, he's the one with the disobedience issues. He should stay here with the countess until we return."
Link clenched his teeth but said nothing, showed no emotion. He and Rusl hadn't spoken a word to each other since the Lizalfos battle, resorting instead to cold looks and Rusl occasionally making third-person comments whenever he did feel like communicating. He was too stubborn to confront Link directly, and Link couldn't pride himself with any attempts at reconciliation on his own part either. All he was waiting for was a chance to escape the smothering Resistance group, and tackle this next challenge alone and without hindrance. For now, he was just biding his time. No need to do it in open conflict.
"No, Rusl, he's coming with us," Auru answered calmly. "And I'll have an eye watching him at all times."
That ever-watchful eye winked at Link a moment later with the promise of loyalty, ensuring his cooperation and unconditional deception of his other group members should Link need it. Link was glad his imminent absence would prevent Auru from becoming a mutineer to his own principles yet again. It was the better choice, one Link now knew he should have made in the infirmary when first presented with that course of action. Auru needed Ashei's and Rusl's full confidence in order to remain the Agency's leader, and from his choice alone to hide Link's identity, he'd made himself a target for mistrust. Link tackling this next challenge alone would preserve Auru's virtues at the price of Link's own. And that was a price he could live with.
He had already blown his chances with Rusl. What was one more act of disobedience?
0
Link opened the canvas a crack; it was Ashei, thankfully, who trundled around the camp's edge on watch duty, a crossbow in hand, bundled into an Anouki anorak with its fur-lined hood drawn closely around her face against the blizzard's whipping wind. Had it been Auru, Midna's plan would likely have backfired.
"Be ready," his companion whispered beside him. "I put the provisions bag and the belts by that tree over there. The dogs are off to the side facing the wall."
"I helped set up the camp, Midna, I know where they are," he whispered back irritably, peeling the last patch of bark from a short spruce stick in his hands.
Sled dogs and wolves, he'd found out, indeed did not mix well. A whole day of being hounded by their barks, bright eyes skimming back to him menacingly every time he approached, had taught him as much. He felt bad for Humley, who was in charge of them and clearly embarrassed by his dogs' aggressive behaviour. It wasn't his fault that Link had a canine aura about him presenting a threat to these dogs their nature forced them to challenge. He still had a headache from the Wolf's defiant growls persisting throughout the day. At least Rusl hadn't asked any silly questions, although Link had seen the deep confusion on the smith's face each time his foster son drew too close to the dogs for their comfort.
As if the horrendous stench from the reekfish sample wafting all around them hadn't been enough of a headache already. He could still smell it from where it lay buried in the snow a distance away from the camp. To say Link was looking forward to leaving it all behind was a blatant understatement; he shivered with just the thought of finally being on his own again, free to do as he pleased without anyone looking over his shoulder.
Particularly Rusl. He'd come to recognize that it had been Rusl's presence, and the prospect of him joining their party, which had thwarted Link's initial acceptance of Auru's help in the infirmary. Ashei learning of his role as chosen hero had not even seemed that big of a risk; he trusted her candid, matter-of-fact nature to accept it without much qualm more than he trusted Rusl's volatile emotions. The memory of Rusl downright questioning Link's sanity, after returning to Ordon and telling the villagers of what had happened after his capture*, was still haunting him. No; it was best to leave him out of everything. Link was certain of it. He didn't need anyone, foster father or not, to haunt his every step and question his motives, abilities, or decisions.
"You're sure the storm will cover your prints quickly enough?"
Anyone except Midna, of course. He was looking forward to speaking with her overtly again, especially since she hadn't neglected to… acquire some children's winter clothing in Castle Town before their departure, which would allow her to spend time outside the shadows. It was summer in Hyrule; the garb would not be missed until Midna could give it back.
"Yes," Link assured. It had been a strike of luck that the promise of a blizzard had forced the group to make camp early the day before. However, he had to hurry; it was light enough for his Wolf eyes to see where he was going, but Ashei had said the storm would abate by late morning. He needed to put plenty of distance between himself and the camp by then.
"Good. Wait for me to come back to you, unless you finally want to get rid of me."
"Yeah, no, not happening." He grinned and gave her a playful nudge with his forehead. She smiled back, a little stiffly, before merging with the shadows of the cracking dawn and hurrying away into the storm.
Link bit down hard on his peeled stick before plunging the crystal into his chest. The familiar pain erupted a second later, wallowing through his spine, his muscles, his legs that kicked instinctively and almost knocked over his lantern. He rolled himself to a ball, pinching his nose to prevent his whimpers from surfacing. It was torture not to respond to his body's frantic fight with the metamorphosis, but thankfully it did not last. A weak sigh was all that escaped him when his fingers turned to paws and he finally settled on the snowy ground, wolf tongue lolling out and steaming in the frigid air. His head cleared and his eyes adjusted to the canine's sharp night vision. Every detail in his hide tent, each crack in the flapping leather and item stored within it, became visible and contrasted. He felt power surge through his limbs.
A gasp sounded outside, and Ashei's footsteps receded quickly. A moment later Midna merged with his shadow, reaching out briefly to squeeze his paw.
"Let's go," she whispered.
Nosing the tent flap aside, Link crept out. The dawning light, rendered grey by the blizzard, appeared much brighter in his eyes, the illusion worrying him about being blatantly visible if only Ashei decided to turn around. But he kept going, and before he knew it he had reached the lone pine at the edge of camp. The storm's harsh wind covered the sounds he made so that not even the sled dogs noticed him.
Grabbing the bag in his teeth he took flight into the distance, finally free.
The cold snow felt wonderful beneath his paws. Burning sands and scorching sunlight had been suffocating, draining, but snow was something he knew. His Hylian body would have been just fine packed into his heavy cloak and winter boots, but there was something truly and utterly liberating about pouncing through the deep snow flurries in his wolf body, buried to his chin in white powder. The fur was so thick that it created a protective shield around his skin, denser and warmer than the thickest winter clothing but without the restrictions of seams or rubbing fabric. Even his ears were perfectly insulated and caused him no trouble. Each strand of fur moved fluidly with his motions; the freedom was exhilarating.
But his coat was not impermeable. As Link trundled through the deep snow, following the faint reekfish scent southward, and the storm gently abated throughout the morning to be replaced with sun-warmed gusts, he grew increasingly wet and, subsequently, cold. Soon the fur became heavy and sticky until icicles formed on his belly and dragged on the ground. The stolen belts they had used to fasten the provisions bag to his back chafed and slid around uncomfortably.
"Ugh, Link, is this air, errr... smell, coming from you?" Midna asked from beneath his paws. Link snorted and plonked himself down flat on his belly, his dripping fur sprawling across the shadow Midna clung to and overwhelming it with his stink. She yelped and materialised before him, instantly breaking through the snow and sinking in to her navel. He saw that she hadn't yet donned her fur jacket and still wore the dishevelled pillowcase nightgown he'd tailored for her in the cathedral ruins.
"Oh, ow ow owww!" she gasped, shivering. Link shook his head and snorted more, his laughter translating into a strange sneezing fit. Midna sent a piercing glare in his direction which only cracked him up more.
"You'll pay for this," she growled and snapped her fingers. The Master Sword clanked down on top of him, flat side first, and Link's body instantly reacted to its presence by turning foggy black. When Link's Hylian form emerged from the haze he sucked in a breath and instantly started trembling. His hair and skin were dripping wet beneath his thankfully dry green tunic and cap.
"N-no f-fair!" he called. "I've b-been in the s-snow all m-morning!"
"Huh, I hadn't expected that to actually work," she said, gaping.
"What d-did you th-think would h-happen?"
"I thought it was always up to you," Midna countered, peeling her tiny limbs from the snow and meticulously brushing off the remaining flakes. "You know, like a knock on an invisible door that you chose to open. I guess touching it works whether you like it or not. Good to know!"
"I g-guess you f-figured out an-nother of my s-secrets," he answered.
"And you stink even in this form."
"W-wet d-d-dog. Can't h-help it."
His wetness was a serious problem, so they decided to find shelter by a large protruding rock, out of the freezing wind, and allow his hair to dry a little. They didn't light a fire in case the Resistance group was in the area looking for him. Link was certain they were, with Rusl likely being livid with fury.
Just as long as I can find the Mirror shard before he catches up with me, he thought. I'll worry about his anger later.
"Watch out!" Midna's call broke through his thoughts. He bolted to his feet and jumped back at the last second when a white blur soared past him. Familiar growling surrounded him, the likes of which he'd been forced to endure from within his mind all previous day.
Four wolves circled them, their white fur glistening with snowflakes. They were larger than any wolf he'd seen in Ordona, with glowing eyes pulling bright red streaks through the blinding snow. A haze, much like frigid fog, seemed to emanate from their fur.
White Wolfos, a common monster on Snow Peak. Rusl had briefed them before departure and told them of their weak points and behaviours that could be exploited in combat.
Link's heart drummed in excitement. "Good," he growled, flexing his hands. His body shivered with the anticipation of movement. "Didn't even know I was itching for a fight."
"Don't get too cocky," came Midna's voice from somewhere before him. They were bathed in the large rock's shadow, giving her access to most of the battleground. "What's the plan?"
"Give me the Master Sword," he said, splaying his left fingers like a star while he crouched on springy legs, keeping all four circling Wolfos in sight.
"Got it."
The sacred blade assembled horizontally in mid-air right into his palm, grip and hilt first. Link blocked the first wolf before it could crush his throat between its serrated teeth, thinking with a bout of pride, you're not the only one who knows that trick.
Two more flanked him, forcing his mind back on track. "Shield!" he called and held his right forearm horizontally in anticipation. The shield formed at his side but the straps missed his arm. It toppled into the snow bottom-first and stayed upright ready for him to trip over.
"Sorry!" Midna yelped, deconstructing it from beneath him just as Link made a grab for its iron handle. He found himself defenceless and face-to-face with a canine jaw half-opened for a bite, and managed to bring the sword around just in time to deflect the wolf's head.
"Let's try that again," he called, grinning from ear to ear. Her mishap, although almost costing him the tip of his nose—not to mention the entire right side of his face—had him giggling like a little boy even as he pushed off of the ground to get back on his feet. The adrenaline coursing through his veins was like a drug, centering him in the thrill of the fight. He felt deliriously excited; deliriously alive.
With her next attempt, the shield straps wrapped around his arm as they materialised, and even the iron handle was at the ideal place for him to grab. He praised her for it, blocked a Wolfos on the right and speared another charging from the left. Instead of blood, an icy gale shot from the monster's chest wound, burning his fingers and freezing his leather glove. He pulled back with a sharp hiss before it fused the Master Sword's grip to his hand. Gotta remember that.
Being more cautious now, he kept the remaining three beasts at bay, landing strikes only when they moved past him. Two more fell to his blade—so light, so responsive!—before the final survivor decided it would be more fruitful to get some high ground. It bounded up the massive rock slab with the speed of a hurled snowball.
Link was determined not to be tackled to the ground. He dropped his sword and let go of the shield's handle so it dangled loosely by its straps. Then he held out his right hand in an open half-moon grip while the left fingered an arrow from the quiver on his back. "Bow, quickly!" he called to Midna.
The compound bow materialised taut and ready in his hand, and Midna even remembered to flip it upside down so the handle would curve the way he needed it. He knocked the arrow just as the Wolfos lunged towards him.
As if chilled by the cold, time became a gooey, muted blur that allowed him to correct his aim. He drew back all the way to his cheek facing the dramatic blue sky, squinting away the a certainty that was both inexplicable and profoundly satisfying, he knew that the arrow would pierce the monster's eye just as its hind legs lined up with the rest of its body. When the projectile was loose, he took a casual step to the side as if he was making room for a passing rider, and released the breath he'd been holding.
Time caught up to the present. The arrow hit, went right through the skull, and the wolf monster landed face-first in the snow half a yard to his right. It did not move again.
Link was shivering, but he knew it wasn't from the cold. When Midna appeared beside him and asked if he was hurt, he let out a whoop of laughter and collapsed into the snow. She screamed and giggled when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a crushing hug.
"Midna, that was—that was awesome! The way you made my weapons appear right in my hands!"
"Me? Speak for yourself, you had maybe one second to shoot that wolf, and it didn't even fall on you! Why won't you believe me already that you're one hell of a good fighter?"
He was dizzy with happiness. "We're unstoppable together! The fight at the Moblin camp already had me convinced, but this was on an entirely new level. We could devise a secret sign language, have you light bombs so I can throw them at enemies or give me weapons like spears and clubs from the battlefield when I need them… So many possibilities, Midna!"
She tapped a finger on his nose and pulled a grimace. "Only when we're alone, though, wolf boy."
He paused, feeling some of his joy deflate—replaced in part by a warm fluster in his cheeks from Midna's affectionate gesture. His nose prickled slightly where her finger had touched him.
"Well, I mean, I already told that Zora captain that I'd used magic to make the Sapphire disappear," he answered. "Maybe your magic could be disguised as being mine? I mean, only if you're okay with it."
She shrugged, looking up at him from within his embrace. "We're alone for now, so it doesn't matter anyway. Perhaps we could ask Auru for his opinion once they catch up with us. Speaking of which, we should probably get going before their dogs smell the mess here."
Nodding his agreement, Link picked himself up and turned south, once more facing the seemingly endless mountain range.
He was again astounded at how cold this region was while, just a hundred miles south and a mountain-height lower, summer made the air glimmer and the populace melt into steaming puddles of sweat. He'd have thought that, in summer, even such a cold region would get a brief melting spell and allow its sparse bushes to wear a few blooms. But this was as icy as the deepest winter in Ordona, possibly even colder still.
The old reekfish smell was still so intense that even his Hylian nose could pick it up, so he decided to remain in this body for the afternoon and bundled the wool cloak around himself tightly. They were soon trekking along a ridge on the mountainside, the slope below escaping his eyes like a torrent stilled in time, glistening with spray and frozen droplets. At the valley's base grew tall pines that filled the cavity with sugar-coated arrowheads. Up where he walked, the mountain occasionally leered at him through patches of windswept black rock. Jagged edges powdered in snow carved through the wind and guided it in swirls down the steep slope.
He'd chosen this path for one reason only: to be above an avalanche in case the weather—or the Yeti, if it had such powers—decided to create one. After asking Ashei about this dangerous phenomenon the day before, she'd delved into a long explanation on how and why an avalanche, which he could only imagine as a waterfall of snow sliding down a mountain at great speed, occurred on steep slopes. She'd shown him the ideal incline for such an occurrence, explained to him the proper snow qualities and daytime they usually happened in, and Link had even seen the aftermath of one down in the valley below; trees too close to the incline snapped like twigs, pine needles and gravel making the snow contained in the valley's crook look like grainy bread dough.
This path, although walled by the towering mountain escaping into the sky to his right, would be safe from any collapsing snow.
Driven from his warm shadow out of sheer boredom, Midna surprised him by requesting her jacket and the small fur boots he was carrying for her. She walked stiffly, her nose taking on a rosy—to him rather adorable—hue and running like a well tap, but she insisted on seeing her attempt at braving the cold through. If it was for the sake of solidarity or simply stubbornness, he couldn't tell. But he appreciated the sentiment regardless.
"Hey, I meant to ask you," she said after a while, her curious voice filling the comfortable silence between them. "When we fought the Wolfos you were… different than during the fight with the Lizalfos, or even our standoff in the Moblin camp. More confident, more reckless, almost… cheerful. Like you were having the time of your life. Felt good to use the weapon that was actually meant for you, didn't it?" She raised an eyebrow that said I told you so.
Link had known that comment would come eventually. "I think that was just part of it," he answered, and reiterated his inner experience of surety and time ebbing into a slow stream. Of how he had felt similar in the training hall during his evaluation even while wielding just a training sword, each move and jump brought on his body like from indivisible strings that his ancestor's voice pulled from within his mind. The fight at the Moblin camp had comprised his first steps with the Blade of Evil's Bane, the horde of monsters acting as a battering ground to test out just how much strength he needed to feed into each hit and how far he could reach. With the Wolfos, those initial experiments had then been put to the test. His feeling of utter confidence which had gripped him once the sacred blade had nestled into his palm… He could still taste the excitement on his tongue, picture the snowflakes floating through the air like through water as time had seemed to slow down. It had been like a dance choreographed in advance, with Midna and the Master Sword as his willing partners. The fight had not been just to safeguard their lives. It had been like performing art; the creation of the perfect sequence of movements to bring down his foes not just with efficacy, but with grace and sophistication.
But the more he spoke of it, the more he came to realise the underlying cause for this manifestation of freedom; a certain inhibitor that had been blessedly absent.
"I think the main reason was that Rusl wasn't there, fretting over me," he confessed. "I knew you were safe in my shadow, so I could concentrate on the monsters without worrying about anyone else, fight knowing I would be the only one reaping the consequences of my mistakes. Like I had full control over how I would survive. And I realised that… I really enjoyed it. The thrill of seeking the perfect moves to take down these monsters, and to come out on top knowing I made all the right choices… I don't know how to describe it. It felt…"
"Powerful," she finished, and he nodded.
"Yes. Like I was born to do this."
"You were, Link. The goddesses chose you because this is what you're truly good at. The sword chose you because you already know how to use it. You just haven't truly had any opportunity to try out your skills until now. They're in your blood."
They exchanged smiles, and her happy expression brought a warm flutter to Link's heart. Bar his ancestors, the goddesses, Auru, Rusl, even the Master Sword's strange pulse that he felt every time he was near it, as if a small entity slept within… They all expected him to perform his duties as chosen champion, he knew that. But seeing her bright grin brought on a most profound resolution; he didn't fight to make them proud.
He fought to make her proud.
In the quiet, utter solitude of this magical yet mundane environment, surrounded from all sides by white-coated colossi, he felt his former inhibitions fall from him piece by piece. Emboldened by their isolation, comforted by the certainty that no one would shatter their companionship with a foreign presence, he struck up a conversation that was, in his belief, long overdue. He hadn't missed her occasional hesitations, reluctant replies, abashed silences whenever he'd made affectionate gestures or comments. He felt it his duty to coax their familiarity to the next level, a level of understanding and unconditional support that he felt he owed her, to assure her he meant no disrespect. From a tactical point of view, of course. For their alliance, their friendship. Their… partnership. And, admittedly, to sate the measure of curiosity he'd been repressing for too long.
But, testament to the nervousness he unwillingly felt, the first topic that came to mind seemed to him dreadfully dull.
"Do… Do Twili have professions?"
She cast him a dubious look. "Huh?"
"Professions. Like craftsmen, vendors, counsellors…"
"I know what you're asking, but why?"
He lowered his eyes to his feet ploughing the mealy snow. "I'm going to be in the Twilight Realm before too long once we find all the Mirror pieces. When we were in the desert and the Arbiter's Grounds, I was too distracted to ask you more about it. I was hoping you'd agree to share some knowledge so I could… prepare for it, I guess? But if you don't want to…"
"No, I can tell you a little about it, although most of it will be terribly boring."
"That's okay," he said, smiling in relief. "My life wasn't particularly interesting until recently, either."
She returned his smile, but he could see it was forced. "Fair enough. So, about half of all Twili have appointed roles they fulfil, but you couldn't really call them professions. These are not used to make money or create goods like your dad does. We don't really have an economy since there is very little demand for material possessions, and needs such as food and medicine are pretty much absent altogether."
Link took a moment to let this sink in. He recalled her earlier description of her ancestors, their banishment to a realm that purged them of all needs and desires. It made sense, then, that the Twilight Realm would find no need for riches or money. But this caused only more questions to pile up; what did they do all day long? How did they live without any possessions? Did they have aspirations, goals, dreams? Or were they empty shells just waiting for their next resurrection?
One thing at a time, he bridled himself. "What about the other half?"
"Those are the newer admissions to the community, too volatile to be of much use. They haven't fully adapted to the environment yet and need monitoring or segregation until they have stabilised."
"The ones who… die and are reborn," Link concluded softly.
"Yes. Until their cycles have balanced out, they must be kept separate from the rest of the population."
She explained how many of her people were appointed caretakers of new arrivals aiming at facilitating their adaptation to the environment and their bodily needs being weaned off of them. These guardians were called Deathwatchers, as their main role was to oversee each death and rebirth of those banished to the purgatory realm, and remain close for counsel and support if it was needed. It was an important task that ensured a harmonic integration into the Twili society.
After hearing this, a terrifying thought occurred to Link which he hadn't considered until now. "Once I enter the Twilight, will I be going through these changes too?"
"I honestly don't know." She evaded his eyes and gazed out at the valley stretching beside them. "You shouldn't worry about it, though. You aren't a criminal. We've long established that gentler hearts have less problems with the environment and suffer not nearly as much as those with tainted hearts. And your heart is not just gentle, but pure. You're the chosen hero. Your sword, your Triforce, will protect you. I'm sure of it."
"Funny how you keep reminding me of that," Link chuckled.
"That is your role in your world," she said with surprising gravity. "You better not forget it."
"And what is your role in your world?" Link countered.
"Nothing important." Midna's voice betrayed her unease with the subject, but Link decided to press on.
He said, "I noticed during our talk with Auru in the infirmary that you're an exceptional debater. It just seems to come naturally to you. I was just wondering where you'd learned to talk with such confidence."
"I was nothing more than an advisor, if that's what you're asking. And I'm really just using common sense when talking with Auru. Don't take everything he says as gospel, and his motives become pretty clear once you dig deep enough. I'll turn you into a contradicting, suspicious cynic yet, don't worry."
Link chuckled. "I'll take all the help I can get, Auru is not going to be happy when we meet him again. So you have a queen, then, in your world? Just like us?"
Midna turned to him, startled, and he worried if his sloppy attempt at a verbal left flank had caused irreparable damage.
"Who told you that?"
"You did, sort of. In the prison, you told Auru that Zant dethroned your queen."
"Ah."
"What is she like?"
Midna took a moment to answer, her glossy black hands gripping the fur jacket around her tightly. "I don't know her very well. I only see her whenever she addresses us at the palace balcony speaking of new arrivals and of our progress with the Enlightenment projects."
"What's that?"
She hesitated again, and after Link's half-hearted proposal that they change the subject, she nodded and wrapped her arms around her middle.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it."
"Why? Is it something bad?"
"No, but it's very personal to my people. I'll tell you another time, perhaps."
He grudgingly gave in; surely there would be more opportunities to probe her for knowledge about this Enlightenment project in the future. After all, they had two more Mirror shards to find after this one.
He was about to inquire about the structure of royalty in the Twilight Realm when she preempted him with a finger-wag at the valley.
"Enough about the Twilight. Why don't you ask your nose if we're still headed in the right direction?"
"But, I still have so many questions—"
"Another time, Link. It doesn't help us if we lose that Yeti because we're distracted with talking. Go on, then."
He grimaced at her unfairness and felt more than a little hurt. What did she think he would do, or say, if she answered these basic cultural inquiries about her people? That he would shout her answers from the rooftops? Why couldn't she open up to him? She'd hidden herself behind a wall of silence and discretion and he'd clonked right into it. The urge to lash out at her gnawed at his insides, and the Wolf did not help matters when it started up the wheel of rumination that began spinning its many threads of causes; because he was unstable, untrustworthy, undeserving, immature, too young, too forward, too curious, too something…
His rational side once more went through the rinsed-and-repeated motions of shutting out the Wolf's emotional tantrum, trying instead to find his own answers to her noncooperation. I'm not ready yet to know about her people. She'll open up to me if I give her time, if I show her she can trust me.
It did not do enough to fully shut out his dissatisfaction with her, but it helped him focus on the matters at hand without feeling entirely forsaken.
So he offered her a smile and dutifully stretched his face into the sky and sniffed deeply. "It's coming from down there, but we had to veer west a bit because of the terrain. Can't exactly climb down this slope safely, and we don't want to get caught in one of those avalanches. The smell is definitely strong here. I was hoping for some traces of this Yeti by now, perhaps even a glimpse of it if it's indeed in the valley somewhere."
"Ashei said white fur, large footprints, and hand markings on rocks, right?"
"Yeah. Haven't seen any of that either." Link paused, frowning as the Wolf prompted his ears to perk up.
"Maybe we're just too high up," Midna continued. "This mountain next to us is making me nervous. We don't have anything like this in our world."
Link didn't answer. The wind had picked up slightly, and within it he could discern a tone that did not belong there; like a gurgling cry it echoed across the mountains, faint enough to be mistaken for a dissonance in the breeze. But the Wolf discerned it, amplified it, and put every cell in Link's body on high alert. That scream was anything but natural; it made his hair stand on end.
A hundred feet below them in the pine trees, three birds of prey screeched and took off into the sky. At exactly the same moment, Link felt as if his insides were being crushed. Adrenaline rushed into his every extremity, and only his human instinct to make sense of his sudden terror stopped him from thundering down the slope at a gallop. He moaned, sweat beads forming on his brow. The urge, the need, the necessity to run, was nearly overwhelming.
"Link, what is it?" Midna asked.
"I-I... I don't know, but... Something's going to happen, I can feel it. We need to get away from here, right now."
"Did the others catch up with us? An avalanche? We're high enough to avoid them, right?"
"That's not it, it's got something to do with that scream."
"What scream?"
"Didn't you hear it?"
"No! What scream? Now you're making me nervous."
"It—Sweet Hylia!" Link stumbled three steps down the slope and almost lost his footing in the powdery snow, the inner push from the Wolf like an explosion of fear in his mind. He was shivering now, breathing hard with that inexplicable terror trying to hurl him down the mountain.
No, not just down. Away. He had to get away! But why? The sun was shining, there were no monsters around him, the wind had calmed down...
And the ground was shaking.
Finally he saw what had triggered this unstoppable flight reaction. He stared upwards at the mountain towering over the valley, at the glistening, churning, tumbling wave of death that was coming straight towards him. And his mind didn't even try to explain how it could occur on a slope that steep, where snow wouldn't find enough traction to accumulate. He knew in the split second he saw the avalanche that there was only one way to escape it, and that was down.
"Shadow, NOW!" he yelled at Midna, his hand diving for the crystal in his pouch in the same heartbeat. He wasn't sure if Midna had seen the avalanche, but she obeyed his command without hesitation. The Wolf was now pushing so hard that his nose already stretched painfully before he had even rammed the crystal in. The fog blinded him, but his canine legs found the ground without difficulty.
Tongue lolling, paws churning the mealy snow, he ran for his life.
And had his Hylian self not suppressed the Wolf's flight instinct first before heeding it, he'd have reached the trees in time to find a semblance of shelter among them.
The noise was that of a cavalry charge directly behind him, thundering like a hundred horse hooves. Wisps of snow licked at his hind legs eighty yards from the first trunk. Snow powder whirled across his back and tail at fifty. At thirty yards, the ground slid away under his hind paws and caused him to tumble sideways. The wave of death gripped him then, rolled over him, drummed onto his back, spun him like a child's toy inside a barrel. He fought for each breath as his chest was crushed, reached the surface for a quick gasp before being pushed back down. His legs sought traction on the shifting powder but found none. All around him, white flakes rubbed and suffocated. He was now rolling sideways with no control over where he was headed. Blinded and disoriented, he had time to muse about his distance to the trees, if perhaps he could grab onto the nearest trunk once he reached it and scramble up to safety. Then his body hit a sturdy pine with the force of a cannon shot.
The world went black.
0
For Midna clinging to the shadows between Link's fur strands like a rodeo rider to the saddle of their rambunctious horse, the world was a spinning, jolting blur of light and dark. Snow-diffused light pushed her about, pressed her into needle-thin gaps of shade she could barely find a hold in, left her in constant panic of being hurled out into the cold, unforgiving heart of the avalanche. When Link crashed into the pine tree she was catapulted from his shadow but managed to grab the thick fur around his neck. Her long arms wound around him and held on as hard as they could. Snow whipped across her back, tore at her jacket and hair, pressed against her from all directions with ruthless force. Only her own terror gave her the strength to hold on.
The avalanche's roar finally ebbed off as the trees combed the force out of its plunge. Only twenty seconds later it was all over, allowing silence to return to the lonely mountains that stood still and shamefully bare to look upon the aftermath of their shedding.
Midna let out a quivering cry when she realised she couldn't breathe. She crawled across Link's furry back, pushed and kicked at him to get to the surface that was mere inches from her head. Gasping for breath, she whimpered and twisted in her frosty confines. The snow was compact like rock and forced her to punch as hard as she could to break through. She sucked in a loud breath that was instantly muted by the deadening snow littered with branches and torn pine needles. After more scrambling and wiggling, she finally managed to crawl free.
"Link!" she gasped, peering into the hole she had created. She did not see him clawing for the surface as she had done. Shadows were finally stable enough for her to trickle down to him and dig at the loosened snow until she had created a funnel. She uncovered his snout and muzzle first to give him access to air, guided by his blood's rosy hue sticking out from the opaque white like a sprinkle of cherry blossoms. His head twitched itself free of snow as broken nerves misfired and made his teeth clatter at an odd, unhealthy rhythm. Midna kept shovelling even as he attempted to get up, only to collapse like a drunkard in an abandoned back alley.
"Link!" she called again, and bit her tongue as her teeth clattered together. "S-stop m-m-moving, you're h-hurt!"
He did not answer her. She finally managed to free his hind legs of their sparkling grave and pulled him down the slope of the avalanche's final breath stilled by the dense row of frozen pines. His chops and eyelids were racked with tremors and a slight, instinctual arch of his spine made him stretch his ferocious paws towards her unknowingly.
"Dear S-sols..." she whispered, her voice hitching.
His head was gushing with blood, the delicate skin torn by his collision with the tree. She could see inside the open wound a piece of bark still clinging to the flesh. He was rapidly losing blood that ran in thick, sluggish trails down his wolf face and seeped into the snow where it was instantly diluted.
Their provision bag had been lost during Link's transformation, so she had just one roll of gauze wrapped around the hilt of the Master Sword to use. It came into the world warm—nearly hot—but instantly turned stiff and crystalline as she wound it around Link's twitching head.
"You s-stupid wolf..." she muttered, tears freezing on her cheeks. "You're g-going to freeze to d-death. How am I s-supposed to help you n-now?"
She whispered and cooed to him, hoping her voice would calm his incessant tremors. But he had already slipped into unconsciousness, blessedly unaware of the razor-sharp cold. His laboured breathing was rasping feebly in his chest.
Unaware, too, was she of the gentle thudding that seemed to approach from the north through the wind. Trees shook from the tremors and dropped more snow to the laden ground. When Midna turned around, hands draped over Link's bleeding head, she nearly fainted.
The creature blended almost seamlessly into the snowy environment. Wool-like fur glistened with frost, impeccably white, with just a hint of grey tarnishing its trunk-sized legs like patches of mould. Brown hands thundered into the snow as the creature lowered its monstrous face and parted a maw beset with hog's fangs and wearing, of all things, a horse's saddle like a comedic imitation of a wool cap. The glazed stirrups shook as the monster's head halted and inspected Link and Midna closely.
"Humm," it rumbled and sniffed Link's body. Then it opened its maw as if to take a bite.
"No!" Midna screamed. "Leave him alone!"
She raised her fists in anticipation of the monster's retaliation, but the snow creature backed off and scratched its furry brow. "Humm," it repeated. "Wolf, catched in snow river. Vermin. Better off dead. Human baby cold. Come with Yeto where is warm."
It proceeded to reach out as if to grab Midna, and the imp fled before its paw. Then she paused as realisation struck her.
"You just spoke," she stammered. She looked up at the looming Yeti, and saw in its large oval eyes nothing but confusion. What she did not see was a magical taint, Twili or otherwise. It was clearly the creature they'd been tracking, if the intense fish smell wafting around it was indication enough. If the Yeti was indeed corrupted as they had thought all along, it showed not a single sign for it.
"Human baby not cold?"
"Yes, yes, I am very cold," she found herself answering. "Do you have shelter? My friend is badly hurt and needs help."
The Yeti once more looked at the motionless wolf at the foot of the avalanche. "Wolf, bad. Nip at legs, eats sheep. Must die quickly."
"No, he's not a wolf!" Midna caught the Master Sword in mid-air and touched Link's back with it, praying the transformation would not aggravate his injuries. It was an unfamiliar spectacle to watch the shift without Link's writhing and gyrations that usually accompanied his changes. Instead, the Wolf simply dissolved into black smoke, leaving behind Link's bruised and bloodied form in the same, crooked position. His head instantly leaked steaming blood from the torn scalp near his left ear. She leaned in closer to assess the damage, but could not find the laceration amid the gushing blood and her now misplaced, loosened bandage.
The Yeti stood back wearing a quaint expression. "Little Human, not wolf," it grunted. "Yeto need glasses."
The reply would have otherwise elicited a snort from Midna, but she paid attention only to the faint, wavering cloud of breath issuing from Link's parted lips, which were already taking on a hint of frozen blue.
"Hold on, Link," she whispered, turning her pleading eyes to the creature.
Yeto approached without prompt and scooped Link's limp body into his right arm with a gentleness that astonished her. Link all but disappeared in the creature's fluffy fur, and only a tattered arm hung from the Yeti's embrace as the beast turned south and plodded off into the snows. Midna jumped up to hide within the shadows of his enormous left armpit.
Yeto stopped halfway through the shortened pines to tuck in Link's exposed arm, smearing blood onto his flawless white pelt in the process.
"Little Human leaking. Sick, too, like wife?" When Link did not answer, the Yeti continued his trek at a faster pace. "Yeto bring smelly fish from water place. Make soup. Little Human feel better. Come where is warm in big stone house. Yeto bring you there. Where is Human baby?"
He stopped again and turned in place confusedly until Midna re-emerged and assured him she was still there.
"Yeto not see where Human baby hide."
"I'm not a Human baby, and I'm not hiding. I stay warm this way."
"You small, so you baby. Legs are two, arms are two—" Here, he held up two of his potato-shaped fingers,"—and no pelt. Human. Dark Human, blacker-est body Yeto ever see, but Human the same."
"I'm short, but I'm not a baby."
"Little Human short, for Human. You, tiny, puny." He paused for effect, and concluded with a nodding gesture at her, "Baby."
"Please, he's really hurt! Just get us to your cave or house or whatever before he bleeds out!"
Yeto grunted in reply and resumed his plodding. "Little Human and Baby here to hunt Yeto? Or on spiritual journey? You look for true self?"
Midna was momentarily stumped. "...What? True self?"
The beast man must have mistaken her reply for affirmation, for he suddenly roared a staccato of booming laughter that jostled Midna from her hiding spot. She plunged with a yelp into the snow.
"YOU LOOK FOR LONG TIME, WAHAHAHA!"
"No, no! We're here to find out what is causing these avalanches."
The beast man looked comically scolded. "Yeto sorry for snow river. After find shiny mirror, bad things happen around house. Wife sick. Many snow rivers. Monsters nip at legs. Humans angry with Yeto. Chase around living houses. Yeto try to reason, but Humans not listen."
"You found the Mirror shard!" she called. "Is it round on one side, with a cracked corner?"
"Found shiny mirror in cave in snows. Bring home. Now wife sick. Bad mirror. But couldn't smash, Yeto tried."
"Yes, the Mirror is… bad," Midna answered simply. "If you help my friend, we'll take the Mirror away and your wife will get better. I promise."
The Yeti grinned widely at her. "Yeto make soup for Little Human and Baby, feel better. Baby take bad mirror from Yeto. Good."
Business thus concluded, Yeto the Yeti walked on through the hip-high snow, humming quietly to himself.
000
Author's note: I absolutely adore the two Yetis and the Snow Peak ruins (by far my favourite dungeon in the game), and I can't wait to continue writing about them. For now, though, I delved a little into my interpretation of Phantom Hourglass's Anouki people, since I needed a town that was set in perpetual snow. Perhaps a bit on the nose in a novel that aims for realism, but I enjoyed the little details this allowed me to add, like the fact that in the game you are tasked with rooting out the lying Yook among a neighbourhood of Anouki that always tell the truth. I really enjoyed Phantom Hourglass when I played it as a kid, and I thought I'd add this little hommage to a title that is often overlooked in the series, for good and bad reasons.
The second part of this chapter was long planned and finally earned its spot in the book. I enjoyed writing about the many internal conflicts Link is facing at the moment, since this partly reflects my own current situation where I find myself reviewing the decisions I made in life and making new ones based on the options I have available to me. Writing can be many things, and to me it sometimes turns into a mirror that reflects the inner workings of my psyche.
The avalanche acts as a reminder that, sometimes, bad things just happen even if you didn't expect them to. But more often than not, there is a friendly Yeti in the vicinity to pick you up and promise you fish soup, so... I'd say that's a plus! Life goes on, and when one door closes, another will open somewhere.
See you next chapter!
DR