#bokoblins are fkn dumbasses

[thelastpitchbender]

Memory | Chapter 2

Summary: Link must relearn how to be a Champion before he defeats Calamity Ganon – but first, he needs to stop setting fires and backflipping off of cliffs. It’s too bad that his attempts to be a responsible hero keep getting interrupted by dumb things like owing people money, remembering hardly anything about who he is, and Yiga Clan assassins trying to kill him.

Rating: T for language, violence, dark stuff, and dumb, bad humor.

Read on: FanFiction | AO3

Chapter index here.

Chapter 2

In Which Link Tries to Pay His Debts

Link and Princess finally reached Woodland Stable just before dawn. He hadn’t trusted himself to stay on the horse at a gallop when he was so hungry and exhausted, so he had left the pace up to Princess and hoped that the horse would make some kind of noise to let him know if there were any monsters around.

Link was startled out of his half-asleep state when Princess came to a halt. Panic shot through his mind. He fumbled behind him for the handle of the claymore.

But the Goddess had been with him. He blinked blearily, recognizing through a haze of exhaustion that they were at the stable. Smart horse. That was why he hadn’t simply traveled to the nearest shrine with the Sheikah Slate. Princess was too valuable to leave out in the wild. He would have to be returned to Princess Zelda when Link finally destroyed Calamity Ganon.

About to fall asleep on his horse, Link lost his train of thought. A good thing, too. Else he would have started dwelling on the Calamity and on Princess Zelda. He was just being stupid, he thought scornfully. The blood moon always put him on edge and made him overly emotional. He needed to sleep.

Somehow, he managed to stumble inside the stable, where the owner Kish was reclining on a chair, yawning. “Oh, hey, Link,” he murmured, glancing at the other sleeping patrons. “Your usual?”

Link just yawned and nodded. Kish gestured to the bed behind him. He would doubtlessly force the twenty rupees out of Link when he woke up.

His sleep was pleasantly deep and dreamless, but when he was dragged out of unconsciousness by some sort of commotion outside, his eyes were crusted shut and there was a foul taste in his mouth. “Fi’ more minuss,” he mumbled into his pillow.

A loud shriek startled him fully awake, setting his heart racing. Link bolted upright and snatched up his guardian sword, looking wildly around the inside of the stable.

Nothing. There was no one to be impressed by the sword, either. Link huffed and peered out through the open doors of the stable at the shadows cast by some nearby trees. It was around noon.

The shriek sounded again, and Link wanted to laugh. Oh. It was just an obnoxious bird in one of the surrounding trees. His paranoia born of being a warrior wasn’t always helpful, it seemed.

Just as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his muscles screamed in pain and seized up, and his stomach let out the largest grumble he’d ever heard from it. Link took in a sharp breath and wondered if he shouldn’t just go back to sleep and let the world carry on without him. No moblins, no starvation, no Calamity Ganon. Sounded perfectly agreeable to him.

Then his stomach grumbled again, and he decided that there was to be no more sleep anyway until he ate. He may have been blessed by the Goddess Hylia, but he was still a mortal Hylian. A poor, sore Hylian, endlessly abused by his destiny.

Someone owes me for all this,he thought decisively as he sheathed the guardian sword and strapped the claymore to his back. I want a royal chef at my command. Perhaps at a small estate somewhere around here. He thought for another second. And a dog. I want a dog.

Link hobbled out of the stable and glanced around. It was a beautiful day outside. Shifting patterns of shadows dappled the ground as leaves rustled in the breeze. But the stable grounds were curiously empty, he noted with an uneasy frown. The paths around the front of the stable were undisturbed, the covered crates to his right were unbroken and unmoved, but there was no one around, not even on the wooden deck to his left. Even Kish was absent from his typical place behind the counter.

It was just his paranoia, he reassured himself. There was no reason to believe that everyone was in danger all the time. Well, besides the tinyproblem of the Calamity. But that was different. Still, Link found himself unable to fully relax.

Link’s gaze was eventually drawn to several crisp, bright red apples just sitting out on a stack of crates, ready for the taking. Who did that? Everyone at the stable knew Link would eat them all. He made a beeline for the apples, stomach clenching painfully, trying in vain not to seem tooweird about it.

He’d snatched up an apple and taken a massive bite, luxuriating in the delicious, juicy sweetness of its flesh, when someone shrieked his name from behind him.

Link whirled around. “Whuh?” he yelled through a mouthful of apple, a bit flying out onto the ground, right hand going for his sword.

He had to look down before he saw Shamae, a girl of about five or six who shared the same braided dark hair and wide eyes as her older sister Breen. “Did you bring more balloons?” Shamae asked. Her voice had only one volume: loud.

Link had to pause for a second to choke his mouthful of apple down, then he grinned broadly. “You bet I did. Killed a bunch of octoroks just for you.”

Shamae squealed in delight. “Let’s play with them!” she shouted. With much more enthusiasm than Link felt.

But he only shrugged, unable to stop himself from feeling at least a little bit pleased that Shamae liked him. He liked most kids. They were fun. “Sure, let’s do it,” he said.

Link patiently herded the little girl back the way he had originally come, pausing for a second to glance at two figures on the road headed towards the stable. One of them was clearly Beedle; the traveling salesman’s silhouette looked just as round and bulky as ever. The other was less distinct. Probably some average traveler.

“Hey, let’s prank that guy,” Link said, pointing the traveler out to Shamae. “We’ll spook him with flying barrels when he gets here.”

Shamae hopped a bit and clapped her hands. “Let’s make the barrels fly way up high!” she shouted.

Link grinned. “Okay, but we gotta be quieter. And we should hide behind that tree.” He pointed at a tree that stood on the opposite side of the wood deck, alongside the shore of Pico Pond. Shamae nodded her head vigorously in agreement. Link picked up one of the barrels clustered around a table and carried it over to the fence. He was about to toss the barrel over the fence when he heard Kish calling out to him.

“Link, did you pay me yet?” The stable master was making his way over to him from the direction of the pond.

Shit.He owed Kish more than just the 20 rupees from the night before. He’d racked up a tab from the several nights he had spent here. Especiallyfrom that night he had splurged on the extra nice bed.

Dammit, he knew that had been a poor use of his money.

Link surreptitiously slipped his hand into his wallet. He had only the purple rupee he’d gotten the night before and another red rupee. He owed Kish a hundred rupees. And he knew that Kish knew he was coming up with excuses not to pay it.

Kish was close enough for Link to see his raised eyebrow, and he panicked. “One second, I gotta talk to Breen first,” he blurted. He pressed the octo balloons into Shamae’s hand and barreled past the stable owner without bothering to look at how angry he probably was.

The best place he could think to go was the shrine across the pond, and soon enough, he spotted Breen sitting in front of it. Link strolled over to the shrine at the other side of Pico Pond, trying his best to seem casual. The shade cast by the reddish, craggy cliffs ensconcing the pond and the pleasantly cool breeze whispering through the trees were a welcome relief from the midday sun. He’d started to sweat under his tunic and greaves. Sky blue was not a good color to get sweat stains on.

Breen’s eyes flicked to him when he was about twenty feet away from the shrine, and she gave him a halfhearted wave.

Before he could stop himself, Link blurted out, “Dinraal’s fire, who died?” Wait, what if someone had died? Goddess, his big, stupid mouth–

Breen’s eyes widened, and Link hastily backpedaled. “Oh, Goddess, I didn’t mean that, I’m so sorry – “

Breen cut him off, a slight glimmer of humor in her eyes. “No one died. You’re fine.” Her good mood was gone as quickly as it came, and she turned her gaze out to the pond again.

Link hesitated for a moment, then sat down next to her, leaving a healthy few feet of distance. He watched the blue glow of the shrine reflected and rippling in the clear waters.

“It’s my dad,” said Breen, voice barely above a whisper.

Link started slightly. “What?”

“I told him that I want to travel around Hyrule. Or take a trip to Lanayru, at least,” Breen said. “He said it was too dangerous.”

Link had to agree. If Breen knew how to fight, if she was willing to accept the risks, then he wouldn’t mind, but he was much better equipped to fight monsters than she was and he still had trouble. He then glanced over at Breen, who seemed on the verge of tears. Link instantly sobered. “I’m sorry,” he said uncertainly.

“My dad said I’ll be taking over for him one day,” Breen sniffled.

He couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to be that trapped. If her father told her that her role in life was to own a stable, was there no other way for her? Her destiny wasn’t to – Oh. Maybe he understood better than he thought. Maybe he did understand what it was like to feel trapped by a destiny he felt ill-equipped for.

He made a decision. He would help Breen get to Lanayru.

Link jumped to his feet, prompting a panicked look from Breen. “You’re not going to fight anyone, are you?” she cried.

Link gave her a lopsided grin. “Only monsters.” He then jogged off back toward the stable, quickly throwing together a plot in his head that may or may not have been insane. Spotting a soldier’s spear leaning up against a rock, he surreptitiously grabbed it. It was cheaply made, meant more for frightening off a bokoblin than for actual heavy combat, but it would still be useful. He liked spears.

The traveler was almost to the stable. Link realized it was Molo, the guy who always wanted to loot Hyrule Castle but couldn’t find the courage to do it. He was wearing his usual expression of casual disinterest. Beedle was in the process of setting his massive pack down on the ground, and watched them with some interest. Kish was nowhere to be seen yet, thank the Goddess.

“Hey, Molo,” Link called out. “I have an idea.”

Molo looked at him with a frown, pushing his blond hair back from his face. “I can’t really right now – “

Kish was heading around from the back of the stable, and it was obvious when he’d seen Link from the dark expression on his face. Link briefly prayed that Mipha wouldn’t have to see him getting beaten to death by a stable owner.

“You keep saying that you want to go to Hyrule Castle, right?” Link asked, loudly for Kish’s benefit. He roughly grabbed Molo’s arm and dragged him away from the stable, into the sparse forest across from it. “You still need that cash and cachet, right? Well, I can help you take care of the cash part. As long as you help me.”

Molo pulled himself free, rubbing his arm and giving Link an aggrieved look.

“Look,” Link said quietly. “I don’t know how much you know about Breen’s traveling ambitions, but I’ve seen enough of Hyrule to know that she should see it too. Safely, of course,” he amended. No need to mention that he wanted to avoid Kish’s wrath.

Molo sighed, internally warring with himself. “Fine.”

Link clapped his hands. “Good. There’s a camp of bokoblins a little bit down the south road. We strip their camp of anything useful, including bokoblin fangs or guts, and then we sell everything to Beedle. Easy enough.”

Molo looked at him aghast. “That’show you make your money?”

Link just shrugged. “Cash and cachet.”

Molo let out a sharp breath. “Right as always, bud. Let’s do this.”

“How do I look?” Link asked Molo, his voice muffled by stiff fabric.

Molo hesitated. “And just where did you get that? Don’t get me wrong, it’s super cool and all, but…”

Link adjusted the bokoblin mask on his head so he could actually see out of the eyeholes. “It’s a bit of a long story,” he said in between adjustments. “I got it from this guy named Kilton. Looks funny. Has a flying monster-themed shop that’s only open at night. He uses his own currency called mon. I also bought a moblin mask from him.”

Molo peered at him. “I think you’re making that up, bud.”

“No! I – “ Link sighed. “Never mind.”

“Do you think that’ll fool them?” asked Molo as he strapped on his broadsword and shield.

Link nodded solemnly, the mask’s snout flapping as he did so. “Bokoblins are very, very stupid monsters.”

Molo looked unconvinced, but didn’t press any further. “So let me get this straight – the plan is that you infiltrate the camp and steal all their weapons. And I’m hiding behind that tree over there.” He pointed at the tree.

“Right,” Link said.

“And…you pass all of the weapons to me.”

“Also right.”

“And thenwe attack them.”

“You nailed it.” Link adjusted the mask again. It kept slipping down his face. He imagined it looked much like he was melting, and that was not conducive to being sneaky.

“Isn’t there…a better way to do this? Like, can’t we just jump out and kill them like normal people?”

Link frowned. “You could.Or you could do it the fun way.”

Molo thought for a second, and then nodded. “You’re right, bud. If I can’t learn about different combat strategies now, how will I ever survive Hyrule Castle?”

“That’s the spirit,” Link said. He pulled out the Sheikah Slate and studied the bokoblin camp from their position among the trees. The camp was right out in the open, next to the road. They had a couple of lookout platforms, but only one was manned. (Monstered? Link filed that one away for further contemplation.) The rest of the bokoblins looked like they were having some sort of feast celebration around the main campfire. Link’s stomach grumbled loudly upon catching sight of the heaps of grilled meat the bokoblins were tearing into. “Ugh,” he muttered.

Molo glanced at him. “What is it?”

“I’m hungry,” Link groaned, aware he sounded like a whiny kid but unable to stop himself.

“Well, then why don’t you – stay with me here – kill the monsters now, before all the meat gets cold?” Molo’s tone of voice dripped pure sarcasm.

Link very much wanted to argue with that, but he opened his mouth, then shut it again. “Fair point,” he conceded.

Molo abruptly shoved him out of the woods, hissing, “Good luck,” at him. Link staggered a few paces, then caught his balance, unsure of what to do next. Should he try to imitate a bokoblin’s bow-legged gait? But then Molo would mock him forever. This was a true conundrum.

Link settled for a slow normal walk towards the fire, but doubts started to cloud his mind with every step. What if Molo, the wannabe Hyrule Castle looter, was actually right? What if this actually was a really, really stupid plan? What if –

A blue bokoblin’s gaze settled on Link, whose every instinct screamed attackas a sudden burst of fear hit him. He forced himself to keep walking, and the bokoblin turned around, uninterested. He let out a breath he wasn’t fully aware he had been holding. He had no reason to be scared, he told himself. He could easily take on this camp by himself.

He sat down by the campfire, leaning against a log, and eyed the bokoblins warily. They weren’t…screeching, necessarily, but the noises they were making were still shrill, if at a lower volume than normal. Was this how they communicated? Link found himself overcome by morbid curiosity as the bokoblins all chittered at each other while making hand gestures.

After a little while, it seemed to be one bokoblin speaking and gesturing at a time, with the others sometimes interjecting with loud screeches and a bizarre hopping dance that Link could only interpret as the monster equivalent of knee-slapping laughter. He began paying more attention to the hand gestures, given that he had a slightly better chance of interpreting them.

The bokoblin across the circle from him was…bludgeoning something to death? That seemed about right. Now it was stabbing something with a spear. The bokoblin dropped to its knees and actually did a pretty good imitation of a terrified Hylian, which got the other bokoblins all excited and making too much noise. And then – oh. Oh, Goddess. He really hoped that wasn’t what he thought it was. That was disgusting.

It was like watching a fully-functional Guardian patrol its territory, spider legs moving about. Link couldn’t look away.

The monster storytime continued around the circle for quite a while, and when Link was certain he wouldn’t get murdered at some point, he finally had the presence of mind to inch his way over to the weapons. They were propped up against another log perpendicular to his, about ten feet away. The bokoblins were engrossed in another elaborate account of pillage and murder and didn’t notice when Link slowly got to his feet and picked up a boko club, which had been “enhanced” by way of strapping fangs and stones to a hunk of wood with fraying bits of rope.

Link hesitantly walked backwards, then glanced back at the tree line, where Molo was waving him forward with an impatient gesture. Link looked back at the group of monsters, heart pounding in his ears. He was admittedly much more nervous than he should have been, and he wasn’t quite sure why. Was it the audience? Link shook his head, dislodging his doubts like spider webs, and gently tossed the club to Molo, who fumbled at it for a brief moment. Link cringed, seeing in his mind’s eye the reactions of the bokoblins when the club thudded to the ground. But Molo managed to snatch it back to his chest, and Link let out a breath.

He crept back to the fire, feeling somewhat more confident by now. He was about to reach for a broadsword leaning against the log when he realized that the eyes of the bokoblins were on him.

Link froze. The bokoblins were not moving, apart from some twitching ears.

For one brief, terrifying second, Link was absolutely sure the monsters were about to rip him apart with their bare hands.

Then the striped one, the leader of the group, flapped its arms impatiently.

Link blinked. Did it…want him to tell a story?

Some of the blue bokoblins started shifting around, and Link made a decision.

“Um…” he muttered under his breath as he cast around in his mind for a suitable story to tell. He had always been terrible at charades every time the children of Kakariko or Hateno asked him to play.

He gestured around at the camp and then mimicked the monster imitations of Hylians, hoping it would convey the point. The bokoblins nodded sagely.

He pretended to stab at a Hylian with a spear, which got the bokoblins chattering in approval. Link grinned under his mask, and stumbled backwards while fake sobbing, falling on his ass after a few steps. He rolled his arms to mimic the action of falling off a cliff, bouncing repeatedly on the way down. The monsters all screeched in laughter, dancing around the fire in their clumsy way.

Link let out a relieved breath. Goddess, he could not believe this. No one else would, either.

Then he noticed one bokoblin who was not joining in on the party. It was watching him closely, head tilted. Link could almost see the question mark above its head as suspicion dawned on its face. Link’s blood ran cold.

The bokoblin suddenly screamed, pointing at Link. The other monsters stopped, heads snapping to face him.

“By Hylia, this better not be the way I go,” Link muttered.

The bokoblins charged, and like that, Link was surrounded.

He panicked. Mipha had healed him just yesterday, and he didn’t have the energy to summon her spirit again. He was still running on fumes, half an apple the only thing in his belly, and as monsters around him pointed spears, leveled clubs, and threw rocks at his head, Link did the only thing he could think to do in the heat of the moment.

He dropped into a crouch, hearing a shriek as a stone aimed between his eyes flew and hit another bokoblin instead. He planted his palm on the ground and screwed his eyes shut. His breath came out in gasps. He felt the earth below him and the sky above, felt out the movement of the air around him, and repeated his usual mantra. Please, Revali, don’t be a jerk this time.

The very air exploded into motion around him, tearing his bokoblin mask off, and he snapped his paraglider out and let the wind yank him into the sky. Link spotted Revali’s pale green outline flying circles around him as the angry and confused monsters dwindled below them.

“Whatwas that monstrosity you were wearing just now?” Revali asked, pretty damn casually for such a near death experience.

Link leveled a glare at him. “It was working,” he hollered past the gale that was carrying him up.

Revali gave him the perfect amount of side-eye and tilted his head up just so, conveying casual arrogance, and he opened his stupid mouth –

And then he was gone. The wind halted, and Link was suspended above the camp.

Link sighed, feeling oddly bereft. Time to get back to business.

The physical distance had brought mental clarity as well, and Link realized that with Molo hanging around, it was best to play it safe for now. He folded the paraglider and went into freefall, pulling out his royal bow and nocking a bomb arrow with practiced movements. There was little need to aim when the monsters were all in a clump, waiting for him to come back down; the bomb arrow found its mark.

Link pulled the paraglider out again, letting the force of the blast and the ensuing updraft from burning grass buoy him. Most of the monsters were staggering about, dropping burning weapons from scorched hands. It looked pretty ugly down there, and Link readied round two to put them out of their misery.

But as he drew the bowstring back, he spotted a Hylian running around the camp and hacking at monsters. He did a double take.

Just what in the name of the Goddess did Molo think he was doing?

A furious hiss escaped through his teeth. Link hastily stowed the bow and pulled out his soldier’s spear, angling his fall for a blue bokoblin before he could hit the ground and break all his bones.

He jammed the spear through the bokoblin’s neck but held on, letting the momentum carry him forward in an arc until he hit the ground rolling as the bokoblin crumpled.

Link tried in vain to pull the spear back through the corpse’s neck, but the spearhead had gotten snagged on the spine or something and he couldn’t pull it free. There was a blur of movement in the corner of his eye and –

Molo was standing there, gasping out ragged breaths with his bloodied broadsword in hand. A red bokoblin was bleeding out at his feet.

Link stared mutely for a second, and then whirled around to eviscerate a blue bokoblin that had been trying to sneak up from behind.

Link let pure instinct carry him through the rest of the fight, cutting down weak and burned monsters with clumsy swipes of the claymore. Exhaustion dragged at his limbs and narrowed his vision to a tunnel, and he half feared that he would not make it out this time.

He tripped over a discarded boko club and fell to his knees in the dirt. He couldn’t get back up again. Link closed his eyes, letting the din of the battle fade away. He felt curiously empty.

Zelda, forgive me.

Something hit his shoulder, and he nearly sprawled forward onto the ground. He couldn’t help thinking that it had been a good run. If the literal incarnation of all evil was too much for him, well, was that really his fault?

“Bud!” Molo was yelling, Link eventually realized. “Please don’t pass out on me. I’m not carrying you back to the stable.”

Link made a vague gesture with the little energy he had left.

“Help me out here,” Molo said irritably.

“Meat,” Link groaned.

“Ah,” said Molo. “You do look pretty wiped.”

Link wanted to scoff at “pretty wiped,” but he settled for snatching the meat out of Molo’s hands when he retrieved it. As he scarfed the burnt meat down, he started to feel a little bit better. “Blessed by the Goddess Hylia with an infinite stomach,” he vaguely remembered being called before. One hundred years before. The memory was as distant to him as Princess Zelda was now.

“Naydra’s scale, you seem really out of it.” Molo was also tearing into a hunk of meat, casting the occasional concerned glance his way. “What happened?”

The Calamity happened,Link wanted to reply sourly. But that was a whole new chest of rupoors to open, and Molo would never believe him.

That wasn’t a chest he wanted to open, frankly. It was better that he buried the memories. Better that he forgot the burning and the death and the utter hopelessness that still crept up on him once in a while.

Link scowled. He’d spent the whole afternoon trying to forget about the blood moon and the fears and anxieties that came with it, and now this stupid fight had to go ruin things again.

“I was supposed to eat yesterday, and I never did,” Link said instead of what he was thinking. Well, it wasn’t a lie.

Molo raised an eyebrow at him, clearly wondering just how stupid he was. Better stupid than about to give up and leave Hyrule to ruin, Link thought, kicking at a pebble.

“Hand me another piece, would you?” Link asked Molo, gesturing at the dwindling pile of roasted steak. The meat was unseasoned, but surprisingly well-cooked and flavorful for such a primitive campfire. Although that might have been his hunger talking. He could eat the most disgusting of dubious foods if it meant it would bring him back from the brink of passing out.

Molo complied, staring at him with wide eyes. “Wait, when wasthe last time you ate?”

Link just shrugged, his mouth full. His energy was coming back in leaps and bounds, and now Molo was the one who looked exhausted. When Link had finished, he jumped to his feet, declaring, “We’ll be rich men by the time we get back to the stable.”

Molo gave a dubious look at the scattered fangs and horns that had been left behind when the bokoblin corpses had vanished in a burst of sickly purple smoke. “You think?”

Link hesitated. Maybe this hadn’t been as good of an idea as he thought it was. His “send Breen to Lanayru while also paying Link’s debts” fund was not getting off to a good start.

Molo huffed, clearly understanding Link’s dilemma. “Don’t forget I saved your life, bud.”

Link forced a smile. “Oh, well, I was going to give some of the money to Breen anyway. I don’t know if she told you about her traveling plans…”

Molo propped his head up on his hand. “She did. I guess I can consider this a noble effort at fundraising. What else are friends for?”

Link’s smile faltered. Friends.He had friends. Didn’t he? Breen was a friend. The ever-enthusiastic Prince Sidon was a friend. But he couldn’t hear the word without seeing blurry images of Daruk clapping him on the back, Mipha cradling his arm gently as she healed it, or Princess Zelda’s sunny smile. Those memories were lost to time immemorial now, alive only in his mind. He couldn’t think about his friends without thinking of all the bloodshed and death that surrounded them, or of how he barely remembered them at all. Link weighed potential responses on the spectrum between sincerity and sarcasm. None seemed like a good fit for what was really going through his mind. He chose to remain silent.

Molo apparently hadn’t noticed Link’s angst. He was shooting him annoyed looks as he gathered up dusty fangs and claws. Link groaned and rose to join him, muscles still screaming in pain.

Link and Molo made short work of the camp, clearing it of all potential valuables and dumping them into a burlap sack Molo had brought along.

When the sack was full, Molo tied it off and thrust it at Link. “Apparently, you’re all better now, so you get to carry it,” he said, deadpan but with a slight bit of envy in his voice.

Link made a face as he held it at arm’s length in a delicate grip. It smelled much the same as he imagined man-pig Ganon from the legends to smell: not good. It was unfortunate that bokoblin guts sold for a fair bit more than their claws. He would have to take a long, long bath in Pico Pond when he got back to the stable.

The pair followed the dirt road back to the stable in companionable silence. But that silence wasn’t going to last very long, Link realized as Molo cleared his throat.

“Uh…So that wind thing? What was that? And, uh, how did you do that?” Molo asked.

Uh oh. How in the world was he supposed to explain this in a way that didn’t make him sound crazy?

Seconds ticked by. Molo raised his eyebrows, expecting an answer.

“Well, you see…” Link rambled. “Uh, I saved this spirit, and he let me use his power. The wind thing you just mentioned.” Close enough.

“Couldn’t what’s-his-face the Rito Champion do that?” Molo asked thoughtfully, as if trying to recall a childhood bedtime story. Actually, Link was sure that was exactly what he was doing.

Ooh, Revali would lovebeing called what’s-his-face. Link would have to remember to tell him that the next time he called up a gale.

“What’s so funny?” Molo muttered.

Too late, Link realized he was chuckling. “Revali would be so angry with you right now,” he said before he could stop himself.

Molo frowned. “Revali who?”

Link snorted. “The, uh, spirit. Who gave me the wind thing. I know it sounds ridiculous.”

“Not as ridiculous as you pretending to be a bokoblin,” Molo shot back.

“Hey, it worked! They really liked my story!”

Molo shook his head. “It waspretty funny,” he admitted.

Link grinned, good mood restored. He found himself admiring the surroundings, marveling at how even with the kingdom of Hyrule in ruins, the wilds could be so pristine and beautiful. He supposed that the relative lack of Hylian interference was part of that, but he could see Hyrule Castle through the trees, see the dark corruption wreathing it, and he wondered if any of the wildlife noticed it at all. Life went on, he thought, as he spotted a deer watching them from the trees and songbirds flying above them.

But the influence of the Calamity was very real. Link felt the same uneasiness he always felt around enemies sweep over him, and he threw a hand up. Molo and Link both froze. They were just around the corner from the stable. The birds were silent, unnervingly so.

And then he heard a scream, and the crash of breaking pottery.

Link broke into a sprint, hearing thudding footsteps offset from his own as Molo followed behind. By the time he rounded the corner, he had an arrow nocked and at the ready, pointing toward the first enemy he saw.

Figures clad in red jumpsuits were prodding Kish toward the stable’s entrance with a vicious-looking sickle. Breen and the old man Ashe were already tied to the posts that supported the stable’s walls. A couple of the assailants turned to look at Link, sunlight glancing off the ivory masks that covered their entire faces. The blood-red upside down Sheikah eye glared at him in place of an actual face.

The Yiga Clan.

“Ha, I knew it!” Link yelled.