Riding pell-mell through the trees, it was but a moment before Link and Brigo arrived to find Dorian not in danger, but merely in annoyance.

"It's all right," the Sheikah muttered while ruefully rubbing the right side of his face. "Just a Hylian."

A very enunciated but highly irritated voice sounded directly behind him.

"Well of course I'm a Hylian, you sneak-hearted Sheikah! Try to catch me unawares again and I shall use more than books to set your manners straight!'

From the woods emerged a short old man angrily waving a thick book. His spectacled face was ink-smeared, which only emphasized his shiny bald dome, while graying tufts of hair circled around the sides and back of his head. His clothes, though of fine quality, were extremely wrinkled.

"I… I didn't expect him to hear me," Dorian said with just a hint of disappointment while still massaging his face.

"Most are not able to perceive the presence of a Sheikah," the man said with a sharp nod of satisfaction, "but I noticed a nearby courser bee acting quite unusually. It fled immediately back to its hive on the northern edge of the forest, which of course meant it feared attack from a creature much larger than itself. No animal fled after I stepped on a branch, which meant it could only be a man. Or, in this case," he added haughtily, "a sneak-hearted Sheikah hardly old enough to be out of his mother's sight."

Link decided to interrupt before Dorian's pride was injured beyond repair.

"Apologies, sir, but Dorian is our companion," Link politely explained. "He detected your presence and set out to make sure you were not a danger to us. He meant you no harm nor offense."

The odd-looking man peered intently at Link, who had dismounted in an effort to make peace.

"Where are you from?" he asked sharply. "I don't recognize your accent. You're not Hatenoan nor are you from the stable."

"Argh, leave off Calip!" Brigo interrupted from his saddle. The stableman looked at the old man as though he were a biteme that needed swatting. "Both o' the lads are wi' me an' we're bound for Hateno, so we've no time for yer ruddy educated tongue or temper!"

"How many times have I told you, you Hebran savage, I am Doctor Calip!" protested the old man, who was now almost apoplectic with rage. "I am a scholar! A man learned in all things of natural science! I demand the respect my title deserves!"

"Yeh'll earn meh respect," huffed Brigo as he guided his steed dangerously close to the old man, "when yeh stop harrassin' every trader, traveler or patrolman wot takes this path, Calip!"

Link was not sure who would win this particular battle of wills, but the early afternoon sun told him they did not have time to find out.

"I am afraid we must move on," Link said still louder than the two arguing Hylians. Both stopped to stare at him, surprised at their argument being so forcefully interrupted. "We have reason to believe bokoblins are massing near Hateno Village. If you please, Doctor Calip," he added with obvious emphasis.

The old man's eyes widened until they nearly exceeded the glass lenses that framed them.

"Did… did you just call me doctor?" Calip asked in disbelief. A smile of pure joy stole across his spectacled face as he scampered to the side of Link's mount and began enthusiastically shaking his hand. "Good sir, I am most pleased to make your acquaintance. Wherever you are from, surely the grace of good manners has seen you safely thus far!"

Brigo snorted, but Calip paid him no mind. Neither did Link. They needed to keep moving. Every delay added to the time their journey would take… and subtracted from however much remained for Hateno.

"Yes, well, the pleasure is mine," Link said absentmindedly as he booted the chestnut into motion. "I am sure we will see each other again."

"Though I take no pleasure in correcting a man of such fine character, I am afraid you are only half-right, my boy," Calip said with a bow as the group made to move on. "More than bokoblins make their way for Hateno, I am afraid."

The chestnut mare reared at the force with which Link reigned her in, forcing him to unconsciously calm the animal while sharply addressing the old man.

"What do you mean?" Link demanded.

It was only when Calip took a cautious step backwards that Link realized his hands were trying to squeeze the life out of the reins. His eyes were still narrowed sharply, and the echo of his question reflected the severity with which it had been issued. Link forced himself to relax, if only enough to stop frightening the man. He did note that Brigo and Dorian appeared just as alarmed as he, however.

"I… I only meant that…" Calip gulped, "you are right that many of the Bokoblin strain of Ganonspawn have passed this way en route to the village. I have seen signs that several of the moblin strain have also made their way to Hateno."

Brigo let out an oath that drew a sharp look of reproach from Calip, but Link was already looking to his companions for answers. It was Dorian who provided them.

"Large Ganonspawn, Sir Link," the young Sheikah said with a frown. "Much bigger than bokoblins. None have made their way this far east since the Calamity."

"Yes, well, that is the basic definition," Calip began smugly, "however, you will note that one of the key differences between the two species is—"

"I am sorry, Doctor, but we have no time," Link curtly interrupted. "We ride to Hateno's aid. Find somewhere safe in the meantime until the danger is passed."

Incredibly, Calip's pleasure at being thus addressed was what made him willingly step aside as the trio set off for good. Link set the pace at a slow gallop, slowing only to allow Dorian to take the lead.

"How far can we go before nightfall?" Link asked as the Sheikah passed him.

"Ovli Plain!" Dorian shouted over his shoulder. "Maybe even Nirvata Lake if we press!"

Brigo's voice sounded from behind. "G'on to the lake, Dorian! I know the way mehself! Scout it out an' we'll meet yeh there, e'en if we must ride past nightfall!"

For answer, Dorian urged his mount to a full-fledged gallop, slowing outdistancing the two Hylians until he was out of sight. Link and Brigo maintained their own mounts at a trot, not wanting them to over-tire before reaching the lake.

The woods thinned quickly until the path ran under an open sky once more. Enormous pillars of rock rose from the depths of the still-running Squabble River to the right. The monoliths shared the same cliff ceiling, which protruded majestically from its root mountain to the south.

"That there is the Cliffs of Quince," Brigo said while pointing toward the natural masterpiece. "The road turns south after we pass 'em, but we'll keep on east to the lake."

Link nodded absent-mindedly, still thinking back to the brief conversation with the odd "doctor."

"You know Calip?" he asked.

Brigo harrumphed a disgusted reply while fishing out a pair of apples from his supply pack. He tossed one to a grateful Link, who only now realized he had not yet eaten that day.

"Oh aye," the patrolman affirmed while chewing reflectively. "Anyone who takes this path has more than a decent chance 'o runnin' inta' that ol' fool. Likes to show off that noggin' o' his to us unlearned souls, don' 'e?"

"He did spot Dorian," Link reminded him through his own mouthful of apple. "Dorian is young, but from what little I know, Sheikah are all but invisible to anyone they don't want seeing them."

"Yer not wrong there, lad," Brigo admitted with good grace. "It's probably a good thing Calip's just an uppity fool. 'E might be dangerous, otherwise."

"Speaking of danger," Link continued as the path crossed almost directly under the far point of the cliff's overhang, "you seemed to know something about the moblins he mentioned. I'm assuming you've had dealings with them."

A frown creased Brigo's considerable forehead. "Only twice. Like Dorian said, they're a tad bigger than the pigspawn yeh've already seen. Make yeh look as tall as that Sheikah elder does standin' next to yerself. Worse, they're not as afraid attackin' large groups. If there's enough o' the beasts, they'll be take on the village sooner than later."

Link had to restrain himself from booting his chestnut mare into a gallop. Running his horse into a lather would not help those at Hateno.

"Do no worry, lad," Brigo said bracingly. "We'll get there in time. Anyways, this is where we leave the road behind."

Link realized the Cliffs of Quince now lay behind them. The sun was sinking fast toward the western horizon to their backs, but enough daylight remained for him to see the path turn southeast. It was hemmed in by rocky hillsides to the left and a steep dropoff to the descending river on the right. Both the road and river flowed into a lower valley, over which loomed a familiar sight: an orange-glowing Sheikah Tower. The structure rose from a steep-faced protrusion of an elevated plateau immediately south of the dale.

"That lot'll have to wait, lad," Brigo warned. "You light that tower and every pigspawn in the Necluda will know we're here. Only thing for it is to hope we survive with the village so yeh can pay it a visit afterwards."

Link nodded. "You and Dorian know the area well as it is. That will be enough for now. You said we continue east?"

The patrolman pointed to a narrow cavity in the low, stone hillside that ran along the left side of the path. It's upward slope was just gentle enough for a horse to maneuver safely through it.

"The plain sits higher than the road and valley below," he explained. "We can get to it by cuttin' through here. We'll stick near the face o' Robred Dropoff. It'll take us straight to the lake. If the pigspawn are hidin' in the woods to the south, they should no see us.

Brigo had just turned his mount toward the passage when an arrow whistled by his head, thunking into the hillside behind him. Link looked up in time to see its archer - a red-skinned bokoblin, only just emerged from behind a large boulder on the river side of the path. A second pig-faced monster was also visible, but rather than joining its companion, it was running as fast as its hooved feet allowed down the path toward the valley below.

"Stop 'em if yeh can, but do no give chase!" Brigo yelled. "There may be more waitin' below!"

Instinct or still-submerged memory - he did not know which - had already told Link as much. He had already nocked an arrow to his bow and drawn it back to his ear by the time his friend's last words reached him. The loosed shaft found the archer's eye. The beast had barely hit the ground by the time Link was drawing back a second shaft, using every bit of the small bow's flexibility in order to reach the rapidly fleeing beast.

The arrow hissed downhill, but the impetus offered by the bow - the same Link had taken from the bokoblins on the plateau - was not enough to make it fatal. Instead it pierced the monster's lower arm, causing it to stumble and squeal in pain. It continued its hasty flight, however, until the road's natural slope hid it from view.

"Come on," Link said urgently. "We need to find Dorian and reach Hateno tonight."

Brigo did not argue. The patrolman turned his mount back toward the hillside crevice and rode through it, with Link right behind him. Once they reached the elevated plain, the pair took off at a gallop, the bottom edge of the sun just beginning to touch the horizon behind them.

The Stalfos did not feel fatigue as living creatures did. That did not mean it could not be spent, which is what it was even in the early part of this night. Establishing a link with this many bokoblins was taxing. Even more so was doing the same with moblins, which were much more resistant to the Stalfos's mental reins. Stretching its dark filaments to this many required repeated strands, otherwise all would fade and be for naught.

Still, it was optimistic. Left to their own devices, the beasts might have taken another fortnight to decide an attack on the village was worth the danger or the effort. Now, another day or two would be enough. Upon arriving the night before, the Stalfos had found the moblin supposedly in command of this small army. The meeting had been brief, as was the reunion with the bokoblin messenger. There was no need for two leaders, just as there was no need for the swine to continue carrying the promise of Karanlik to others. Their brethren had not objected to the pair's swift and merciless deaths, not when they meant swift additions to the cooking pots. The deer had grown scarce during their stay in the woods. So had travelers.

The resurrected skeleton sat atop its Stalhorse, riding from camp to camp in its ceaseless effort to strengthen the bond between master and servants. They would deliver death to these Hylians before hunting down their Champion.

Frantic squealing interrupted the Stalfos's visions of the very near future. It assumed a squabble had broken out among the beasts. They would both be slain. Though the villagers knew the woods were no longer safe, they would be far easier prey if left uncertain as to how many Ganonspawn prowled the forest. The Stalfos had warned the bokoblins to keep quiet. It would not warn again.

Instead, it saw only one offending party hastily approaching. The Stalfos recognized the messenger. It had been stationed by the road to the northwest, instructed to return and give warning of any Hylian assistance sent from the stable or the Sheikah mongrels. Which would it be?

Stop, filth.

The mental command arrested the beast with fear more than anything else. It quivered in place as the Stalfos quickly searched its mind. The recent memory did not take long to find.

Joy bloomed within the Stalfos's absent heart. Its quarry had come to it. The boy - and another Hylian - were circling from the north, no doubt trying to slip by the Ganonspawn camp and into the village.

The Stalfos spent a moment in self-debate. It could pursue them now. It had enough Keese left, and a few of the more tightly bound bokoblins - perhaps even a moblin or two - could also be brought along.

The hunt might take the rest of the night, however, at the end of which the Stalfos would be worse than useless. It might even lack the energy to compel its followers through the pursuit, forcing it to bully the beasts onward when time was of the essence. Even then, there was no guarantee they would find the boy.

No. Better to let the Hylians try to reach the village, where the Stalfos' attentions were already pointed and prepared. If by some miracle the boy slipped past the Ganonspawn, let him offer what pitiful assistance he could. He would be spent by the time the Stalfos found him. It would fell the village and the boy - and claim the title of Karanlik - in one stroke.

In one stroke…

Without warning, the Stalfos drew its scimitar and slashed the bokoblin across its pig-like face. Its death was met by the immediate scattering of its brethren, which had fortunately remembered to keep silent. Once the Stalfos left, they would return to claim the unexpected meal.

The Stalfos rode on, its eyeless sockets staring in the direction of the distant village. There, destiny would be fulfilled, revenge exacted, and rewards claimed.