As usual, not much to say. Thanks to any reviewers, and I still love Kokeshi!

-Shawshank

Part Three – The Mountain

So far, I've realized one thing.

Snow is really, *really* cold.

Right now, I'm staggering through the stuff, and I'm pretty sure I'm going uphill. It's above my waist, and in my clothes, and pelting into my eyes and up my nose. (A/N: I'm a poet and I didn't know it!)

I can't think of anything worse than this.

I've had to put up with a lot of crap in my life. I ran around Hyrule for years, trying to – and finally succeeding in – freeing the land from Gannondorf's clutches, only to be sent back in time and have everyone forget about me ever doing it. But my question is, if I destroyed him in the future and was sent back to a point in time *before* I originally left the forest, will I have to do it all over again?

I hate time paradoxes.

But right now, I don't have much spare energy to puzzle over alternate timelines and futures that will never happen. My clothes are soaked, and even the thick, woollen cloak the astronomer gave me isn't helping. In fact, it's just weighing me down. But I'm afraid that if I let it drop off of my shoulders, I'll be blown away and become part of those looming white clouds that are blanketing the world.

It's times like these when I *really* miss Navi.

***

"Hey! Who're you?"

A shrimp of a kid, with a red cap and a little spitball shooter was running over to me, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. His cheeks were tinged red because of the strain of shooting air through his shooter, but he still maintained the glowing exuberance of youth.

I would've been nicer, but I was kind of crabby. After all, I had just walked through a big hollow log, and fallen down into a canyon, and followed the path up to the Clock Tower, and been pushed into the bright light of the street by the highly overenthusiastic, stalker Mask Salesman. Then I had wandered, completely lost, through town, and fended off a thief trying to make off with my sword, and nearly been run over by the postman. And now this little kid with an attitude had the nerve to ask me who I was! I took in a deep breath, ready to shout at him, my frustration having peaked.

"'Cuz I'm Jim. I'm the leader of the Bomber Gang. You look like a good guy – you wanna join?"

I let out the breath in a slow sigh. This kid was being nice, if a little forward. I nodded.

"Okay! But to be a member of my gang, you have to play hide and go seek!" As if on some invisible signal, a bunch of little kids got into a line. "You have to find all of us by tomorrow! Have fun trying!"

Tomorrow! *Tomorrow*! He actually thought I was going to waste my time and play around with him? What a stupid little kid! I clenched my fists and took several deep, slow breaths, calming myself. When I opened my eyes, the kids were gone.

I roared out loud in frustration, earning a threatening look from the guard standing in a dark doorway. I wondered why he was there, and walked up to him. He held out his hands and scrambled around, his armour clinking as he blocked my every attempt to pass him.

"I'm sorry, but only adults are allowed outside the town walls. This way leads to the mountains."

I shook my head, gritted my teeth, and followed the sounds of giggling coming from somewhere near the slide.

In a few hours, I had managed to jump on each one of the Bomber Gang, and they all met me back in North Clock Town, as they called it. Well, at least I had found them before the next *day*, though the sun was beginning to set. I stared up at the ever – present moon as I jogged, following Jim, the kid with the red hat. That was the single scariest moon I have ever seen. It had eyes, a nose, and a grimacing mouth. I could have sworn it had gotten closer in the past few hours…

"OOF! Hey, watch where you're going!"

I looked down in surprise, and saw Jim staring rebelliously up at me. I stared back at him, and watched the little kids all line up, with Jim in the middle. He looked right at my face, and I was almost taken aback by the intensity of his gaze.

"This is our secret code. You can't tell it to anybody. With it, you can get into our hideout in East Clock Town." Yeah, sure, if I could ever *find* East Clock Town in this maze of buildings! Of course, I didn't say this out loud. Instead, I watched in muted amazement as the kids turned around one by one, flashing me a set of numbers that I hurriedly tried to burn into my memory.

"32451! That's our code! Write it down so you don't forget."

I would write it down, if I was at all literate…

Jim smiled at me for a second, or at least I thought he did. Next second, though, I was sure I had imagined it, because the Gang had all run back to their hiding places, and I was left to stare like an idiot into empty space.

The darkness in me growled at the guard, who was staring at me like I was a wandering fool, and headed off in the opposite direction, through one of the many black doorways made for a giant.

***

I trip over a rock buried in the snow, and sink into the thick powder face first. I just lay there with my eyes closed, listening to my own slow breathing. That part of me that's obsessed with duty and promises screams at me to get up, to keep walking, but I just push it out of my head, letting a part of me fly away on the howling wind. And, suddenly, the wind isn't the only thing that's howling.

Not that I really care any more. Nobody in this world cares about me, or even knows I exist. And why should they? I'm just a shell. I have no soul. I'm a murderer. They should lock me up and leave me to rot, somewhere far away from other people.

It's kind of odd, really. I've been so isolated, so far away from other people for all of my life, and yet, I can't seem to get used to it. The only good thing about being alone is the silence. The rest – the lack of something to stimulate my thoughts, just the *lack* - I hate that. I hate being by myself. My burdens are too hard to bear alone. Navi was my friend, but… lately, I've felt like I need something more. Something deeper, with more meaning.

And then my thoughts always turn to *her*. I start hating myself for my weakness, and something inside me seals up, like I'm closing another door between me and a room I've been blocked off from my whole life. And the thing is, unlike most other closed doors I've come across, I *don't* want to open this one. I don't want to see what's beyond that rotten wood and those rusted hinges. I know, somehow, that what's behind that door will drive me insane… or kill me. I'm not sure which, but it scares me. And that's not a feeling I'm used to.

***

I stumbled up the amazingly coloured stairs, dripping water and gripping my side where the stupid Skulltulla got in a good swipe. Jim never warned me about a Skulltulla! Not one word! Oh well. I survived, and I guess that's always the most important part, even if I was cold and soaked through the skin.

An old man with a hunched back was peering through the telescope, and he only noticed me when I cleared my throat loudly. He gave me the old hairy eyeball and sat me down on a violently coloured couch, pouring me some hot tea in a violently coloured cup and wrapping a surprisingly non – violently coloured blanket around me. The blanket was grey and wool, and quite warm, if a little itchy. I attempted to smile, making my mouth twitch, and thanked the man, who I assumed was the astronomer. He smiled and shushed me, and dragged over a rainbow riot chair, sitting across from me and staring at me as I drank my tea. His gaze travelled up to my eyes, and I felt my throat constrict. It was like his eyes were burning coals, and they were forcing holes right through me, in one side and out the other. I stared uncomfortably at my tea, which I had only taken a few sips of. I've never been fond of taking drinks from strangers, but this man was obviously a friend of the Bombers, so he couldn't be all bad. Besides, I figured he had some practice with the whole tea and blanket ritual – he did me up in two seconds like I was just one in a long line.

"The Bombers sometimes get colds from walking through the water, and the tea and blanket helps. But I have a feeling that you're not so susceptible to illnesses."

"No, probably not."

He smiled at me.

"You new in town? What are you here for?"

"I'm looking for something."
He smiled at me and slapped his knee with a knarled old hand.

"Ah, that's it! We're being mysterious, so it must be something important! You can tell me, boy, nobody listens to an old astronomer who's half crazed with loneliness, and the other half with old age."

I shook my head slowly, reluctant to loose my tongue. "I'm sorry, but this is my business. It's important to me that I find…what I'm looking for."

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Well, I s'pose that's important to everybody who's looking for something, right, sonny? Come on, now, old Maurice is too stiff to help you out in the world, but maybe he can help you in here." He poked me in the chest, right over my heart. I sighed, knowing that there was nothing under his finger.

"I don't have a heart. I killed an innocent, and I was cursed."

He nodded. "Ah, Maurice is cursed too. I'm cursed to live in this old body until I die, and I bin around so long, I don't know how far off that is! I got another curse, and that's the worse kind in the world – well, maybe not as bad as yours, but besides it, maybe."
I looked up at him, interested despite myself. "How are you cursed, Maurice?"

He looked up at me, and his old blue eyes misted over.

"Well, sonny, hard as it may be to believe, I was in love once. Her name was Tara, and we were going to get married – until her father found out I was an astronomer. He didn't want his daughter to marry a man whose gaze was always on the stars. So they moved out of town, and I've never seen head nor tail of them since."

I closed my eyes when I spoke. "That sounds terrible."

"Oh, it was, for the first little while. Then I realized that I could live without her, I could live by myself; my stars are enough company for me. Still, I miss her, boy. That was…oh, I don't know how long ago. Too long ago to count the years that have passed since."

I half – smiled, and squeezed my eyes shut. "I think I might be cursed with something like that too."

He grinned at me. "Was she beautiful?"

I sighed, despite myself. "Oh, she was more beautiful than words. She made me feel like I could do anything, anything I needed to do. In the end, though… in the end, she betrayed me, sort of." I looked up at him, the smile completely gone from my face. "I've never really been able to forgive her."

"You better get around to it, boy! You don't want to end up like me – and old, lonely man."

I almost laughed. "Well, I'm afraid it is too late. I'm afraid it is much too late. I'll have to live and die a lonely man."

He shook his head and put a hand on my shoulder. "Then I pity you, boy. And I wish you luck in looking for whatever it is you're looking for."

I looked up at the old man, who was now bustling about, putting away the teapot and chair.

"Listen, can I ask something of you? I need to get out of town, but the guard won't let me by."

He nodded slowly.

"Yes, yes, I can give you a lift over my fence. Here, you take that cloak with you. Old Maurice don't need a travellin' cloak no more. He can see all the stars just fine from here."

"Thank you, Maurice. I owe you a debt."

"Oh, don't be silly, boy! You don't owe me anything. In fact, I owe you. Remembering Tara – it almost made me feel young again, and for that, I'll help you however I can."

He held open a brightly coloured door for me, and I stepped through, putting the cloak on properly. The astronomer held out his hands for me to step in and get over the fence, but I just took a small run and hopped over, clearing it by only a few centimetres. He smiled at me.

"Well, I offered, but it looks like you can make it on your own two feet. Now, some last advice, boy."

I stared at him through the fence, waiting.

"This is strange land to you, ain't it? Well, you don't go dashing off. Take it nice and slow, be careful, and you'll survive. And also, take this." He passes me a strange shell through the fence.

"This is a conch shell. If you blow it, any sentient being within hearing range will assist you. But only use it if you have no other choice, remember! If you blow it too often, no one will come to your aid."

I nodded and pocketed the shell, and waved goodbye to the old man. With his words ringing through my head, I ran towards the mountains, far, far away.

***

The cold from the snow is numbing my body and my heart, or what's left of it. My eyes are closed, and in my mind's eye, I'm standing at the end of a long hallway, and at the end opposite to me is a door. I know that behind it are countless other doors, all at the end of impossibly long hallways filled with traps that could kill you in an instant. But, forever away, behind those countless doors and inescapable traps, is a room filled with that *something*. It's warm, and the mere thought of it fills me with something I've never experienced before, something I can't give a name to. I want that *something* out of my head.

I watch as the silvery coldness radiates from me, freezing all it touches. It slowly creeps past all those doors, going through them without opening them. Then, it comes to that room with agonizing slowness. I want it to take over that room, to make sure that whatever is in that room is gone forever.

But the huge, ancient door to that room is not like all the others. When the frost tentatively reaches out, the door opens, and I catch a brief glimpse of something before the silver lunges in and kills everything there. But, before everything is gone, a voice screams my name, leaving me hollow and aching for answers.

But now I'm beyond the point of caring, even though what was in that room, what I killed, was what I've been searching for all these years. I just don't care. Maybe that's what scares me the most. I'm not sure about anything anymore.

I flip onto my back and open my eyes as something powerful washes through me, and my whole body tenses for an instant. My breath catches, and I can't breathe. My lungs have frozen, along with the rest of me. I wonder what the hell is happening, and as I watch, the sky clouds over, and lightning flashes. Magic erupts from me, spilling out from my eyes and ears and through my skin, forcing its way out into the world. I'm screaming in pain, but I'm deaf to even my own voice. My brain is a whirlwind of agony, and my eyes water as the world comes alive around me. The trees shudder, knocking more snow onto the ground and onto me. Whatever I just loosed is destroying me, but the amazing thing is, for just a millionth of a moment, the constant dull ache from the hard black tumour under my skin disappears, and I almost feel like I'm alive again.

I can almost remember feeling like this once before. I can't quite put a name to it, but it's the most wonderful feeling in the world – it's like I'm flying, and all of my ghosts and doors and fears and responsibilities have been left of the ground. For just a moment, I feel pure, until the magic and the intense sensation fades and the darkness rushes back in, pulling a cloak over my vision. I scrub with callous fingers at my eyes, but before I know it, it's over.

Could it be…before I can think, another one of those memories that haven't happened to me yet makes my eyes roll up into my head.

***

"It's over…it's finally over…"

The beautiful woman who haunts my dreams looks at me, smiling. And I can feel myself smiling back. It hurts my mouth, because I haven't smiled since this whole thing started, but I don't really care. She's worth smiling. She's the only person or thing worth smiling for in this world.

I turn to her, and start to reach out, to pull her into the embrace I've been waiting for over the long and painful course of seven years. The fairy flutters over our heads, and I stare deep into that woman's clouded aquamarine eyes, wondering how she can look so confused and so sure of herself all at once. It was like when we first met – she knew what to do, but she was afraid to take the first step, afraid of where it might lead us to. And now it's come down to this.

The world is dark and evil around us, but for once that doesn't matter. We've come through. We've done it. It's finally over, just like she said. And right now, in this one short second of happiness, I am finally free of everything. I've never felt better in my life.

And even as she pulls out of my grasp and gasps, staring over my shoulder, I'm still only half – aware of what's going on around me – the worst mistake a warrior can make. Because out of nowhere, a huge sword made of metal that is obviously alien to this world swings down, forcing the rock beside me out of its way. I whirl, and block the next swing that's aimed for my heart, but my sword goes flying out of my numb hands, whirling straight for that woman. I watch it, my eyes wide, wanting to spring at her and throw her aside but unable to move. She steps to the side, and the sword buries itself deep into the rock at her side. She gazes at me, horrified, her eyes bright with terror, and I stare back.

But even as I turn to face the monster empty – handed, I can still feel her gaze on my shoulders. And I know that, even if I fail now, I've already won. You know why?

Because I've been free all along. Although it took me most of my life to figure it out, now I know that I *am* free.

And when the beast swings at me, crying out and laughing in turns, I can already see which one of us will walk away from this place a free man. It doesn't really matter who lives or dies, because even if I don't make it out of this alive, I'll have lived at least for a moment, which is good enough for me.

Besides, if I do die, I won't be the only one burning in hell. I'm taking this thing with me, no matter what.

The woman who first gave me chains and then caged me screams as the swords cut into my skin.

***

It passes just as quickly as it comes, and I sink back into the snow. The white sky blinds me in an instant, so I squint, shielding my eyes with my long eyelashes. Out of the never - ending field of white, two specks of black peer at me. As my eyes adjust, I can see that the two specks are eyes, and I can start to feel hot breathing on my neck. I immediately stiffen and hold my breath again, praying to the Goddesses for salvation. Of course, when have the Goddesses ever been on *my* side? The Wolfos sniffs at me again, then roughly bites my tunic, its teeth scraping the skin beneath. It drags me through the snow to Goddess knows where, and when I chance looking back, I see little bright red droplets littering the snow. I gulp again and don't move, hoping that if I play dead, the Wolfos will leave me. Of course, knowing my luck, it doesn't.

Just for a moment, one single instant, I actually thought I was free.

***

WARNING: For the faint of heart. This next passage is disturbing. If you are sensitive to bloody images, please skip down to the next set of stars, and don't get mad at me, because I DID warn you.

It's a curious sensation, being eaten alive.

Usually, if you dream about it, you wake up just as the first set of teeth begins to gnaw on you. You sit up in bed with your heart pounding and thoughts racing, thanking the Goddesses it was just a dream. However, those rare few who actually *have* been eaten alive are, obviously, no longer around to tell the tale.

Except me. Of course, I won't be alive for much longer.

Once you get over the pain, the smell, the need to retch and the numbness, being eaten alive is…interesting, in a gruesome sort of way. Not that I'm suggesting you run out and get eaten yourself – I'm just saying.

It's like being peeled, sort of. Layer by layer, those teeth are coming closer to your innermost self, and you're powerless to stop it because pain and blood loss have made you only half awake.

The Wolfos is chewing away my lower right leg, slowly, ever so slowly. It's almost like it knows I'm alive, and it *wants* to make me hurt. The strangest thing is, Wolfos only eat their prey *after* they're sure it's dead. I know this for a fact. Why is this one different? It's not like it doesn't have the energy to do it, what with the way it's taking its sweet time devouring me bit by tiny bit. This is *wrong*, I know it.

When I lift my head to look down at my leg, the sight that greets me isn't very nice. The main thing I see is blood. But, poking up out of the mess, there's a little black splotch. It's that damn scar! For some reason, the Wolfos is chewing *around* the scar, like it knows that this is the evil part of me, the part that cannot be denied. Should I be comforted by the thought that once the Wolfos eats away my body, I'll still have that black inner core?

*** END OF WARNING***

As if sensing my gaze, the beast whips its shaggy head up to look me in the eye. It has its front paws lying on my leg, and it's eating the part between them. It sniffs at me, as if puzzled, then gets up and walks over to my face. I let my head fall onto the frozen ground, and the lapse in pain lets me see that I'm actually in a cave of sorts. My view is blocked by the Wolfos' snout, which is sniffing at my face. I let my head fall to the side, unwilling to look at those bloodstained teeth for a single second longer than I have to. I look around me and see a whole bunch of little snowballs, all perfectly round and lying haphazardly around the small frozen cave. Even as I watch, one of them sprouts eyes and rustles around, waking up the others. They all bounce towards me, baring rows of tiny little razor-sharp teeth, whiter than snow. The Wolfos hears them and whirls around, snapping its teeth at them. They back off, if a little grumpily, and settle down to wait, their little orange eyes fading back to white. So, these are the creatures that will pick over my bones when the Wolfos is done with me. I shiver and gulp down the lump in my throat, willing it all to end. The Wolfos snuffles around my neck, then nudges at me, as if it can't understand why I moved.

A chill slowly crawls up my spine as I realize why it hasn't killed me. To all intents and purposes, I *am* dead. Or, at least, I must smell dead to this creature. I look back up into its face, and I can feel the same deadness that it can smell festering in my eyes.

It takes a step back, slobbering all over my face, then steps even closer, baring its teeth. Just before I close my eyes, bracing myself, a flash of yellow light crosses my vision. For a second I think I imagined it, but then a horrible voice fills the cave, making the ground rumble and icicles shatter as they fall to the ground. I shudder and curl up, recognizing that voice. It's the voice of the mask, the mask I've been sent to find, the one that's possessed by something I've never seen the like of before. It's the voice of Majora's Mask.

Get away from him, you mindless beast! I claim the right of vengeance! He is mine to do with as I please! He is mine to *kill*, and you will not take that away from me, not when I have waiting for so long! I said, GET AWAY!

A feel a wash of wind, and I open my eyes just in time to see a great hand sweep up the Wolfos and slam it into the icicles on the roof, making blue blood drip down into my eyes. I wipe it out with a snowball – a real snowball – and make a run for the way out. But before I can escape, the voice is back. I guess it never really left. I notice that all of the little snowball monsters have vanished.

Did you hear that, Kokiri? Your life belongs to me.

The evil presence leaves, and the fear in me adds itself to the solid black collection in the core of my body. I've learned that, to slow the growth of the tumour inside of me, I need to keep myself from feeling negative emotions. My anger, fear, hatred and sorrow all make the tumour grow bigger, and a lot faster. Of course, I never feel happy anymore, so I just stick to being numb, to *not* feeling. Or, at least, I try to. It doesn't always work. In fact, it almost never works, except when I'm asleep. Emotions are too much a part of me to be dumped off carelessly. I think that goes for almost everybody in this world.

So I continue stumbling through the snow, my still bloody leg leaking all over the place and wobbling on me, leaving a trail a blind rabbit could follow. Oh well, not like it matters – I'll be dead soon enough. Then I remember the conch shell – yes, the shell! The old man said that if I blew on it, any living being would come to help me. I feel around for it, and soon produce the shell out of my pocket. Or, what's left of it. It's been shattered into pieces, thanks to my ceaseless falling and the Wolfos dragging me so roughly. Now I'm dead.

I throw away the shards of the shell and keep stumbling in one direction, hoping to the Goddesses that I won't find my own blood trail. If I wind up going in circles, I'll die here, in this snow.

Blood loss has made me weak and disoriented. I can walk no further. I sink to the ground, shrouded in hopelessness, and let myself sink into the powdery snow, accepting my fate. Maybe, in the spring, my frozen and lifeless body will be found by a wanderer. Maybe it will be found in a hundred springs, or a thousand. Maybe I will rot away into nothing, and nobody except the old astronomer and the Mask Salesman will care what happened to me.

Man, I hate it when this happens.

***

Wow, that did take a while…was that a cliffhanger? I'm not quite sure.

I know it took forever to get this up, but oh well. If anyone is reading this, I thank you. If you review, I love you!

-Shawshank