CHAPTER 7

Epona only slowed down and stopped when she reached a sizeable pool of rain-water, the surface of which rippled in conjunction with the miserable cries. Link, catching up to her, began to wonder how it was even possible for the weeping to be heard from underwater – but, if whoever was making the sobbing noises needed his help, then he didn't have time to concern himself with the details.

"Oi! Is somebody there?" he called out again, tentatively approaching the pool's edge and peering into its shallow depths. "Don't be scared. Epona and I are here to help."

Once again, nobody responded.

He couldn't quite make out who – or what – was hiding within the water, for there were too many ripples in the way and whatever was down there wasn't moving. He'd have to take a closer look.

Temporarily removing his boots and leaning the sheathed Gilded Sword against a nearby rock, he cautiously splashed into the lukewarm pool and soon reached the deepest point, which barely spattered his knees. He found the sound's source – a diminutive blue-and-white figure, curled up like a sleeping cat – at the center of the pool and bent down to stroke (what he believed to be) its back.

"Easy, love. Easy," he told the creature, which slowly loosened up in response to his gentle touch. "I won't hurt you."

Only when the creature stopped crying and looked directly into his eyes did he realize what it was – a Zora hatchling. A Zora hatchling separated from its parents and obscured in a pool of rain-water, miles from the nearest lake or ocean, never mind the nearest Zora settlement. This explained how its cries could be heard from underwater, but still. What on Din's red earth was a baby Zora, of all creatures, doing in the thick of a relatively-dry forest?

Before he could ask the hatchling about its origins, however, it frantically wriggled away from his gentle grasp and took refuge on the other side of the pool. Strange. He'd never met a timid Zora hatchling – in fact, the last hatchlings that he'd interacted with had gleefully taught him the New Wave Bossa Nova. What could possibly have happened to this one?

No matter. The forest was no place for such a creature. He had to take it home, wherever its home was – and he only knew one person, off-hand, who might be able to help.

"Oi," he explained, approaching the hatchling again. "I'm going to take you to Dr. Mizumi. Down in the Great Bay. He'll know how to find your family, or at least where to. . . . . . . . ."

But, right as he drew close enough to pick it up, the hatchling bolted again and swam between his feet – causing him to stumble over himself and fall face-first into the pool. Epona sputtered in amusement and proceeded to graze by the pool's edge, paying no further heed to the chase that ensued.

Link stood, drenched in rain-water and sighing in slight irritation, and – cautiously, lest he should unintentionally hurt it – pursued the hatchling across the pool several times, as though he were attempting to catch a fish with his hands. If only he could get ahold of it, calm it down as much as he could and place it inside one of his bottles for travel – preferably before it tried to leap out of the pool. The poor thing was too young to survive on land, after all.

Finally, as the sun disappeared entirely behind the horizon, he managed to pluck the hatchling out of the water. He gently – but firmly – pinned it to his chest with his forearms, its finned tail flapping like a hummingbird's wings. "Oi, oi, oi! It's all right," he told the creature, trying to speak reassuringly. "Easy. I won't hurt you, and neither will my horse. I promise."

A faint squeaking noise emanated from the creature, whose tail-thrashing gradually dwindled to a mere pitiful tapping. Link couldn't believe his ears. Were Zora hatchlings even capable of vocalizing? He certainly never heard a peep out of the ones that Dr. Mizumi kept in his laboratory.

"What's the matter?" he asked, cautiously holding the hatchling in his hands as he approached the edge of the pool. "Where have you come from? Where are your. . . . . . . . ."

Rather than answer his questions, the hatchling stared directly into his eyes again and stammered, in a melodious and obviously-feminine voice:

"Y-you. . . . . . . . .Why did. . . . . . . . . why must it be you?"

Link stood still on the pool's edge, too dumbfounded to speak. He knew the voice. He'd know the voice anywhere.