Hey everyone. Here's another chapter for you! The beginning of this chapter might be a bit boring, but I hope you all like it anyway. Next chapter gets into the real meat of the story! So excited!

And please, read the bottom A/N. There's a special opportunity for all readers!

Chapter 24

The Mountain Demon.

"…You seem like the kind of person who would enjoy a bit of local history," the old woman said to him over the fire, shaking hands taking the blankets that she had let fall to her lap and pulling them about her shoulders. There was an audible sigh from most of those who sat round the fire, obviously bored with the elder's stories. He didn't find it all that boring, he had always found different histories intriguing, although prior to now he had seldom the time to investigate.

"Before my mother was born, there was a war that a spread faster than wildfire across this kingdom. It was called the Demon War. And for good reasons too! The offense was led by a woman from far to the east. It's said that she was so beautiful that she left the men stunned and the women sick with envy. But she was not the namesake. It was her followers who dubbed it the 'Demon War'. Six warriors, three men and three women. They fought like demons, heartless beasts, never sparing a life, racing across the entire kingdom, leaving a trail of blood in their wake."

"Grandma," the mother sighed, louder than the others had been. "This story? Its not even real."

The old woman's face scrunched up, a look of positive denial.

"You youngsters and your newfangled science! Just 'cause somethin' seems impossible doesn't necessarily means it is. You have to learn to believe, girl! Next you'll be tellin' me that Termia doesn't exist neither!"

"Ma, that's because she doesn't."

A look of utter betrayal was on the old woman's face now, her winkles accentuating the expression.

"Anne! I can't believe you!" she crossed her arms beneath her wraps, making a tut-tutting noise of disapproval. "Your family's been faithful followers of her grace for many, many years, to say that is downright blasphemous! To think! Termia is real, I've seen 'er with my own two eyes!"

"Was this before or after you went blind?" An unseen member of the group muttered in retort.

"Anyway," the old woman said, smirking when her granddaughter conceded. "It was during that war that in this very region a rather phenomenal thing happened. It snowed during the summer. Just like right now. A nasty blizzard that covered the entire mountain in freezing ice. They say that the snowstorm was caused by one of the commander's top warriors. The mountain demon," she seemed to relish the story she was telling, smiling ear-to-ear as she spoke animatedly. "They say that he was impossible to kill. After all, how do you kill something that's already dead?"

"But he wasn't the only danger in these parts at the time. He was also in charge of a separate entity, a gigantic metal bull that could destroy and entire village in a single charge."

Metal bull? He gulped and tried not to look conspicuous. That woman had been building a metal bull.

"A metal bull just like the one that forced us into this cavern, just like the one that came upon us last night. He's re-awoken his master."

"That's enough." The mother said curtly, interrupting the old woman's story.

"What?" The old woman asked innocently.

"The story isn't real! That mechanical bull you're talking about wasn't the one from the legend, it couldn't have been, because the legend isn't real!"

"It is real! You're great-great-grandfather severed the bull's heart and hid it in Labrynna! He was the one who imprisoned the mountain demon in the Ice Catacombs! How can you not believe me?!"

"Because it's impossible! I don't want you to fill my child's head with nonsense like that."

The old woman crossed her arms, turning her head from her granddaughter.

"Old woman Selma," a voice said behind him. He turned his head, and found that the man from before, the one who had denied him entry had stood. The man was glaring at him. "This metal bull, if it truly is the one from the legend, than it had to be rebuilt, no?"

She nodded.

"Why, of course! What do you think that woman was doing up at the smithy? She had obviously been possessed by the demon's evil heart."

"And would you say that her 'unpaid' assistants would have helped build it?" He was obviously trying to push an angle. He didn't like it.

"Undoubtedly. I dare say she hadn't to lift a finger!"

Link looked at the man through the corners of his eyes, he had a cruel smirk on his face.

"You slimy piece of work!" he shouted, startling the whole of the group. "You helped that witch build the very thing that destroyed our village!"

He had lunged before anyone could stop him. He grabbed Link by the collar, dragging him to his feet, his lips parted in a beastly sneer, eyes burning with rage. His free hand was balled into a tight fist, his knuckles going white, cocked back and ready to deliver a blow directly to his nose.

"Silas," the mother said calmly, knowing not to engage him. "Let him go."

The man turned his stare on her instead, his hand still gripping his collar firmly. He didn't fight back, it would only make it worse.

"No! He helped build that monstrosity!"

The man's fiery gaze was turned back on him, and now he felt the first fingers of fear. This man's stare was murderous, crazed and thirsty for blood. He was utterly defenseless. He had not a weapon on him. Of course, he could throw a decent punch, but that wouldn't stand against the knife he glimpsed tucked into the man's breast pocket.

"Silas, this isn't the time or place for violence. Please calm down."

"That monster murdered my family!" he practically screamed, droplets of saliva landing on his face. He tried his best not to flinch. One wrong move and that knife would be in his windpipe. "His life is the least I deserve!"

His eyes widened when the man reached for the knife, his lips parted slightly as his breath hitched. He turned his hands and gently displayed his opened palms toward the aggressor, hoping the gesture might calm him.

"Killing him will get you nowhere," the mother insisted, staring into his eyes even when he refused to make contact. "You're hurting, I understand where you're coming from, but please, think of what Helena and Wes would want. Would they want you to kill him?" she had risen again, her son clinging sleepily to her chest, unaware of the struggle. The look in her pastel eyes was one of gentle pleading. "He was new, I doubt he had much of a hand in the making of the creature. Let him go."

He looked toward her, his nose twitching. For several terse moments, they stared at each other, his grip still tight on Link's collar.

He gasped when the man let go, shoving a hand against his chest, forcing him backward as he turned, stalking away like a defeated predator, his pray ripped from his own jaw.

With a tired sigh, he had been about to sit again when the mother spoke.

"Sir," she said, an unsettling tone of apology in her voice. "Although I personally do not mind your presence, I am afraid that many of our people were killed by that monstrosity, the beast you had a hand in building. I'm aware that it was not your intention to hurt anyone, but it cannot be looked past. I must suggest you take your leave whilst you may still with grace and dignity."

He dipped his chin in understanding, fully aware of the harsh glares from the townsfolk he was receiving, and turned to leave, resigned to the cold he was about to face. He didn't feel comfortable anymore, anyway. He had just started off when another voice spoke.

The man who had been seated beside the sobbing girl had stood. He stepped forward, shrugging the thick leather cloak from his shoulders and gripping it in his hand, holding it forward in offering.

"Take my cloak." He said, giving an affirmative nod when Link's hand first made contact with he leather.

"I thank you," Link said to him, giving a small bow of his head.

"Sir, please, I just have one thing to ask," the man's voice lowered. "If you're going out there, please, just keep an eye out for a little girl. She went missing just before the snowstorm. She's only two years old, brown hair in two braids, gray eyes. Her name's Sakura. Please, if you see her, please bring her back. She means the world to Kasumi, if something happened to her, I don't think Kasumi could carry on."

There was genuine fear in this man's eyes. He nodded as he took the cloak, pulling it over his own shoulders and tying it in place. The inside was lined with soft, warm sheep hide, much like the cloak that Malon had sewed for him several years earlier as a Mid-Winter gift. The only difference was that the one he owned had a small Triforce insignia sewn on the left shoulder.

"I'll be sure to." He answered the man, taking his leave. The cold first touched his skin as he neared the mouth of the cave, he could already feel the first fingers of harsh wind on his face. And that was where he stopped. He was gathering his thoughts and bearings. Which direction was he supposed to head? He wanted to get back to Clock Town. If he could get there, he could find his way back to Hyrule.

"Boy," he heard the old woman call. He didn't turn, not finding a need to. She couldn't see him, anyway. "Before you leave, I was wondering. My Brother left for Hyrule many years ago to seek his fortune. The king of that time granted him a large estate in the eastern forest. He married, and had two sons. He used to write often, but I haven't received a letter for about thirty years. The last I heard, his younger son had just become a father himself. Would you happen to know if he's still alive? His name was Edward."

The name sounded familiar to him, although he couldn't place it.

"Now, what were his sons names? Emil and…And…Oh, what was his name? Adam? Alex? Oh…Never mind me, you go. Don't mind an old woman's mutterings. You probably wouldn't have known him, anyway."

And so he left.

The old woman settled into her blankets, feeling her granddaughter scuttle a bit closer. She felt the fingers of tiredness tugging at her senses, the fire's warmth lulling her to sleep.

"Aldric…His other son's name was Aldric…"

The storm seemed to have gotten worse. He held the cloak tightly around his shoulders and trudged onward. He told himself that it would be worth it. That he didn't belong in that group, that that fire wasn't meant for him. But he couldn't deny the fact that he'd rather have stayed. He didn't even know where he was going. Was he heading south like he wanted? Or was he heading even further into the storm?

Perhaps this hadn't been the best plan. He certainly hadn't thought it out very well.

He just wanted it to end. His sense of adventure had dulled dramatically. Of course he had thrived on it in his youth. What vital young man didn't? The rush of adrenaline, the sense of danger, the thrill of success. He couldn't quite pin down the exact time that he had lost a great deal of it. He knew it had to do with many different factors. Age, experience, his children, ect.

He still enjoyed the occasional adventure, but this was just pushing him a bit too far. He liked to do things on his terms, not someone else's.

Goddesses, I could do without the wind. He thought begrudgingly, holding the cloak even tighter. It was only a few moments later that his eyes came to rest upon a dark shape in the distance. He stopped, and narrowed his eyes to try and see the figure clearer. The snow was too thick.

The figure moved, revealing the human-like shape.

"Hello?" He called cautiously, hand instinctively reaching for his hip, grabbing the nonexistent hilt of a sword.

No answer.

"Can you hear me?" He took a few quiet steps closer. The figure seemed to be short, but well built, with some sort of garment long enough to catch the gusts. Had he just seen a nod? It was hard to tell. The person was nothing but a faceless black shape from where he was.

"Who are you? Do you know where we are?" he stepped closer, faint colors becoming clear. He still couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman, he wasn't about to ask. But whoever they were, they were very well muscled. "My name's Link."

He thought that maybe a bit of personal information might coerce the person to respond. Still nothing.

He stepped even close, now only a few feet between them. He could see the person clearly now, and he did not like what he saw. In both hands the person held bloodied knives, the thick crimson liquid dripping onto the snow and dying the scene red. Covering the person's face was a sinister mask, the mouth and bridge of their nose still exposed, but their eyes and brows covered by a thick plate of metal, leaving only lifeless slits from which the person's eyes glinted.

Two large, pointed horns stretched skyward from the metal plate, resembling the horns of a bull, the person's shaggy, limp black hair hiding where the protrusions connected.

A slight smirk tugged at the person's lips, making him nervous.

"Run." The person said in a demonic voice that made a shiver travel down his spine. The person's evil smile grew. It was then that he realized who this was.

This was the Mountain Demon.

"I said," he said, leaning toward him, brandishing both knives. The horns jabbed toward his face, forcing him to stagger back to dodge them. "Run…"

There you have it. Now for an announcement:

I'm having another contest! This one is going to be a fanart contest! Here are the guidelines. Its pretty simple, just draw one of (or more, if that's what you'd like to do!) the characters in this story. It can be anyone, the good guys, the bad guys, the neutral ones like Mistress Fala. I don't care, anything is fine.

The winner will get to design a character that will appear frequently in the story. Now, this character will not be completely plot-integral, but they will appear quite often. (Think the cabbage man from ATLA)

Judging will not be based on drawing ability, but on effort, and idea. If you want to draw stick figures, that's fine. Once you've finished your piece, please post it to a site I can find and contact me, telling me how to find it.

Entries must be received by Sept. 30th.

Thanks everyone!