Chapter 58: Vigilance
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They didn't quite make it to Kakariko by the time evening fell; Link estimated they were probably a few hours' ride away when they stopped to make camp under a rocky overhang just off the small trail leading up Sahasra Slope. Using the abundant dead grass as tinder, along with firewood they had brought on Timber's back, Zelda managed to start a healthy fire while Link set up her tent, attaching it to the inside of the overhang to keep it secure in case of wind - and to keep her dry if the threatening clouds that still hadn't dissipated overhead decided to send rain down into the mountains.
Timber and Dinraal he tethered a short distance away, fastening their leads to the low-hanging branch of the largest tree. The other three horses he tethered to a second tree, nearby enough to allow all five to touch and groom each other. Although the overhang was spacious enough, it didn't quite have room for even one of the horses; if it rained, Link hoped the trees – still mostly bare as they were – would keep the worst of it off of them. And if not, there had been room to bring their horses' thick, plaited blankets, meant specifically to keep them warm and dry. He would give one to the buckskin, as she was the least healthy, and the other… he would decide if the time came who needed it the most.
One of the advantages of giving a massive horse to a tiny rider, he thought wryly, digging through the saddle bags for their dinner. We can pack more supplies without any trouble.
After a small meal of oats lightly soaked in water and dried pork, Zelda once again attempted practicing with the powers she'd already discovered.
"You… actually aren't safe," she realized in surprise. Her brow creased. "Does… does that mean the bokoblins are following us? Are they angry with us for stealing their mounts?"
Link frowned, pushing himself to his feet beside their little campfire, scanning the grassy slopes below them, dark as a stormy sea beneath under the black clouds above. Bokoblins weren't nocturnal, as far as he knew - he could remember coming up on a camp once or twice at night in the past and finding them all sound asleep.
But what with how bold they've become… chasing down travelers on the road, stealing horses and supplies… And then there was that massive force moving up Death Mountain - lynels and bokoblins working together.
There's no telling if they still follow nocturnal habits.
But the trail was easy to miss, and it and the main road both held innumerable tracks of horse, man, and deer; he doubted bokoblins were clever enough to know how to distinguish a particular pair of horses from all the other tracks they might find.
"I don't believe so," he answered at last, sitting back down with his knees up, his back against stone. "At the very least, a good number of those bokoblins were killed back there; they probably don't even realize that they lost horses because everyone that remains still has a mount. And our fire should be difficult to see, but I'll probably have to let it go out just to be safe."
Zelda hummed uncertainly, absently twisting a strand of hair around her fingers. "Is it… is it the fire itself, then? Is that where this danger is coming from?"
Link hesitated to answer, looking her over worriedly. She didn't seem like she was getting tired, as she had the last time she maintained her focus on his condition when he wasn't safe. "How… how intense, or… or threatening… does it feel?"
"Not much at all," Zelda admitted. "It's… it's very faint, but still present. Undeniable."
Link nodded slowly, realization flickering into his mind like the light of dawn on a cloudy day. "It's because we're out in the wild," he explained. "We'll never be quite as safe as we'd be within actual walls. Nature is… unpredictable, and that can make it dangerous."
Zelda shivered, opening her eyes. "I… see," she murmured, her gaze flitting from her tent to the rocky overhang sheltering them to the tangle of old grass just beyond its shadow. She shuddered again.
Link bit his lip thoughtfully, realizing that he had made her feel uncomfortable. "That doesn't mean we can't take precautions," he said, in what he hoped was an encouraging tone. "At the very least, I know what to do out here - I know which plants are safe and which aren't, I know what insects and animals to watch out for, and I know how to pick a safe place to shelter for the night. We do the best that we can, and make do with whatever follows. It's the wildness, the unpredictability, that causes what little detriments to our safety that you feel."
Zelda nodded, but the crease between her brows remained as she hugged her knees to her chest, her fingers drumming restlessly on her arm. She glanced towards her tent. "W-would you be willing to check for spiders in there?" she asked, a slight tremor in her voice.
Link shot her a teasing grin, hoping it would lighten her mood or at least bring out a self-conscious blush, but she didn't look at him, and his smile faded. "Of course," he said quietly, pushing himself once more to his feet and shuffling to her tent, just out of a wayward spark's reach from the fire. All but blind in the darkness, getting down on his hands and knees, he slapped down the tent's sides and swept his hands across first her bedroll and then the base of the tent, hoping that he wouldn't feel anything squish under his palm. And he didn't, for which he was grateful; this early in the year, there weren't nearly enough insects or spiders around to really cause a nuisance. Should've brought something to see with. But a torch could've brought it down in flames… maybe somewhere there's Sheikah technology for non-flammable torches? Or maybe Impa can teach me a spell?
"No spiders," he reported, crawling out from under the tent flaps.
Zelda smiled at him, and his heart warmed. "Thank you," she said, getting to her feet and stretching with a wide yawn. "I think I'll turn in now, then. I do feel a little tired."
Link nodded, holding the tent open for her as she ducked inside. "Sleep well," he whispered after her, before taking her place by the fire.
He waited for her to fall asleep; without the guiding motion of moon and stars he had no idea how long it took. The clouds overhead showed no sign of moving along; they hovered like a silent predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike, hungry yet patient.
Once Link felt confident he wouldn't wake her up by any movement he made, he began the routine of stretches and exercises Impa taught him, to help him regain his strength, determined not to let her down. He used the sheltered side of the rocky overhang for support when he needed it, feeling the pull of his muscles against each other with satisfaction; after he finished the first round he repeated it all over again, finding it a surprisingly efficient way to pass the long, unchanging nighttime hours.
From there he moved on to first the more basic moves Impa had taught him with the sword, going on to the more difficult ones and even attempting those that she hadn't specifically taught him, but that he remembered her using - quite effectively - on him. He doubted he got them right at all, but it was nonetheless exciting to try and imitate what he had seen.
The storm finally broke around what he suspected was early in the morning. First a light, gentle drizzle dripping down from the heavens, a tiny drop here, a tiny drop there, almost impossible to notice. Link double checked that Zelda's tent was sheltered entirely by the overhang before jogging out to the horses to determine how well the slim branches of the tree they were tethered to protected them from the rain.
Not much, he realized, blinking as a raindrop landed on his nose as he stood beside Timber, looking up. Eyeing the swollen clouds with distaste, he rushed back to the tack and saddlebags lying beside the fire - now just a pile of coals - and found the two thick winter blankets, one considerably larger than the other.
Thunder growled in the distance as he threw them over his shoulder and returned to the horses, resting Dinraal's blanket against the tree trunk while he held Timber's blanket up to the buckskin, hoping she would recognize it and not shy away. She sniffed it carefully and allowed him to throw it over her back and fasten it around her chest, and he sighed, relieved.
"Sorry," he said, meeting Timber's skeptical gaze. "You can show some chivalry for a lady, right?"
The black gelding, Link decided, would receive Dinraal's blanket, as it was the smallest of the three new horses and had less mass to protect from the cold of the storm; Link had its blanket on in a matter of minutes, just as the rain began to pick up, a heavy onslaught of tumbling moisture plummeting down all around them. Pushing his hair out of his eyes Link squinted at the overhang sheltering the Princess' tent and their dying fire, contemplating, looking it critically up and down, before the storm impossibly seemed to thicken, beginning to soak through his clothes, and he made a decision. Quickly, with slippery fingers struggling with sodden rope, he untied two lead ropes from around the tree and pulled them back towards the overhang. Dinraal and Timber followed eagerly; with his head stretched low in order to fit, Dinraal hurried beneath its protective shadow. After giving the small space an appraising look he bent forward on his forelegs, lowering himself to his knees and then to a cozy lying-down position on the matted old grass, entirely out of the rain. Timber settled down - much to Link's surprise - directly in front of Zelda's tent, the only other possible space left where a horse could fit beneath the overhang. And even then his hindquarters and tail stuck out in the open. Link grabbed his saddle blanket and positioned it over the massive horse's rump, hoping it would be sufficient. The piebald will just have to take care of herself. But she seemed in best condition – she should be fine.
There was no longer any room for him to practice; gingerly stepping between Timber and the fading coals of the fire, Link sat down once again with his back to the stone wall behind him and leaned forward, squeezing water from his dripping hair.
Then he settled back, comfortably crossing his arms over his abdomen and letting his head rest against the uneven rock. With any luck I won't have to move from this spot the rest of the night, he thought, stifling a yawn and glancing over at the horses on either side of him, making the little space beneath the rocky crag seem infinitely more cramped. Because I don't think I'd be able to get out now.
He shivered, pulling off his nearly-soaked doublet and spreading it out beside the campfire before leaning forward, huddling close to the waves of heat wafting off of the pulsing coals.
The storm didn't let up as the early-morning minutes and hours dragged on and on. Link's eyelids felt heavy; he allowed himself brief naps for minutes at a time, lulled by the steady pattering of raindrops on stone and grass above and around them. It didn't even really feel like sleep - he was aware only of the ongoing rush of the downpour as his thoughts faded to black… and then opening his eyes what seemed like only a second or two later, finding the fire a little darker, and the sky - or was it his imagination? - just a little lighter.
Dinraal's low whicker drew him from one such lapse in consciousness; he blinked wearily and pushed himself straighter up against the back of the overhang, finding the white horse standing up with his rump and back exposed to the storm and his head hanging low over the grass he'd laid upon, as if considering whether or not to eat it.
Timber was awake, too, Link noticed; he was holding his head high, ears pricked and alert, swivelling first out into the storm and then back to the campsite.
"I don't know what'd be out in this weather," Link chuckled, reaching over to give the big horse's neck a reassuring pat. "Probably just the wind, eh?"
But then he heard it too - and so did Dinraal, looking up with a few strands of grass hanging out of his mouth, his own ears flicking towards the open slopes beyond their overhang.
A soft, squishing sound - a footstep pressing down on grass heavily saturated with water and mud.
Instantly on edge, his pulse picking up in his throat, Link eased himself silently to his feet, a hand reaching back for the Master Sword's sheathe. The intruder's footstep sounded again, closer; Link could tell that whoever it was, they were trying to keep themselves quiet - and failing. Probably Yiga, he thought, twisting his free hand and feeling the air, twirling it and coaxing it into a slight breeze to help the rain mask the sound of his footsteps, just as Impa had taught him.
The storm was thick - and the shadows thicker. Squinting, blinking rain from his eyes as he crept out into the open, Link could just barely make out the contours of the Sahasra Slope spreading out beyond him; turning his head gingerly to the side, towards the Princess' tent, he saw… nothing. Just the blurred gray outline of the edge of her tent running diagonally to the ground, and beyond that the thin, tapering strip of darkness beneath the overlook as it receded back into the stony bluff it protruded from.
That's where they're hiding, Link thought, slinking forward, keeping close to the side of the Princess' tent. And as he neared he saw it - the unmistakable white of a Yiga mask, like a broken, bleeding moon in a black sky, rising from the shadows. And he saw the glint of a sickle raised -
Link abandoned all pretense of stealth, whisking the Master Sword from its sheath and bringing it sweeping over his shoulder with the same forward momentum, a blow that the Yiga assassin just barely blocked on the edge of their circular blade before twisting their weapon in an attempt to trap the Master Sword and tear it from Link's grasp. Link swung his free hand forward, catching the Yiga in the neck - a blow without his full strength behind it; nonetheless it surprised the assassin enough for Link to unhook his blade from within the sickle, by which time the Yiga had recovered and swiped, not at him, but at Zelda's tent. In a split-second of deliberation he took advantage of the assassin's distraction to run him through on the Master Sword, just before their deadly curved weapon could taste the thick canvas.
The assassin hung limply for a moment, the sacred sword piercing diagonally from the left side of their chest through to their right shoulder blade. The sickle dropped harmlessly from their grasp and Link lowered his weapon, pushing the Yiga's corpse off with his boot and letting the rain wash away the blood.
Impa's voice rang in his mind. If you can kill an enemy in one swing, do it.
And he had, and the Master Sword struck true, slicing through cloth, skin, bone, and muscle straight into the assassin's heart.
But it shouldn't have been that easy. They switched targets - they ignored me and went straight for Zelda as soon as they could. They had to have known that I would kill them if they tried - they must have thought that if they could get to her before I got them, it would be… worth it.
It was a realization that sent chills shooting through his blood, and he shuddered for a reason other than the rain now drenching him head to toe. All the Yiga care about is killing her. They're not even so worried about me anymore - they just want her dead.
And they're getting desperate.
It was a thought that made dread curdle in his gut and placed a load of anxiety like a pack of heavy iron chains across his shoulders. He trudged back up the overhang to take his place once more between Timber and Dinraal, although by now the fire was dead and he knew he wouldn't be able to dry his sopping clothes. But he stripped out of his sodden tunic and undershirt anyway - his trousers, fortunately, weren't quite wet enough to be an issue - and spread them out as much as he could in the tiny space allotted to him by the horses. There was just barely enough room when he carefully draped his undershirt over the fire, although he winced at the thought of washing out black charcoal smudges later.
He remembered packing one extra blanket, just in case the night's cold was too deep for Zelda's usual bedroll; hoping she wouldn't need it that night, he dug it out from one of the saddlebags and wrapped it around himself. Shivering, he pulled his knees close to his chest, wiping strands of wet hair out of his eyes.
I'll speak to Impa about this, he told himself resolutely. She'll know what to do - what it means. Before that, I can't jump to any conclusions.
He didn't dare try to find any more rest that night, just in case there were others. And the chill of foreboding certainly helped him stay awake and alert, a razor-sharp claw, or perhaps a sickle, slowly sliding up his spine - one wrong move and he would be torn asunder.
Goddesses, preserve us.
Updated 7/8
