The two stepped into the small courtyard just outside the temple in utter silence. The grass was soft here, heavy with dew, and muffled sound like a thick carpet as Link slowly walked across it. Navi trailed behind in silence. They’d snuck in over the wall, closer to the castle than they had in their first attempt. They’d seen one moblin; a huge beast, at least twice as high as the ones they had been attacked by before. It never saw the sharp point of the hookshot speeding towards the back of its head; and the point had brought a bit of the moblin back with it, too. The blood had splattered on Link’s arm, and there were a few drops on one cheek, but he didn’t seem to notice. He had just nodded satisfactorily and descended into the hallway, stepping over the body when they came to it.

It had been a long, straight corridor that they’d gone down to get to this courtyard, and the resounding thuds of the monster’s footfalls were no longer to be heard. Ivy and creepers grew along the white stone walls surrounding the clearing, and the boughs of heavy-laden branches drooped over the tops of those walls, muffling most noise. The castle entrance was barely visible beneath all the ivy and other growth, and stairs which had once descended to the earth were broken halfway up; too high for him to reach even grown as he was.

Link’s gaze rested momentarily on a wide, low tree stump just to the right of the broken stair. Saria spent half her time in this place, sitting there, playing music and conferring with the forest spirits. The place had a reverent atmosphere, and when she played the ocarina and added her own music to that of the silent wood’s, it was utter magic.

Now, however, a cold breeze made the shaggy grass bow silently, and made a mournful sound through the creaking boughs of a few trees. It caused Link to shiver as he tore his gaze away from the abandoned stump, and instead began to analyze how he ought to ascend to the cavernous temple entrance.

There were some thick boughs near the doorway, and Link eyed the hookshot he was still holding. Sheik said it would carry him toward a substantial object, if the hook was embedded in it, but how did he know the thing wouldn’t dislocate his shoulder in the process? And how did he know it would latch onto a tree or stone, if the meaty head of a moblin hadn’t been enough to grasp? “Well” he said, mostly to himself as he pointed the contraption up at the thickest bough he could see, and holding on with both hands as he laid his fingers on the trigger “Here goes nothing.”

Pulling the steel trigger back before even his chatterbox fairy could ask what he was doing, Link watched as the point shot forward and lodged in the branch. The chain was pulled taut immediately, and Link found himself speeding through the air before he could even think of making a sound. The momentum of his pull left him swinging like a rampant pendulum from the branch, above what was left of the stairs below the door. Gasping for his breath, he steadied himself, and released the trigger, letting himself down onto the solid stone.

Navi was up after him in a flash, of course, yapping away. “Link! Are you okay? Goddesses were you going fast! One second you’re standing there, and the next – whoosh! Up you go! I thought it’d pull your arms off, but obviously they’re...still attached.” Her talk slowed and then ceased as Link ignored her completely, picking himself up and looking towards the shadowy entrance.

“Somewhere,” Link said, quietly, in a tone which made Navi decide not to interrupt. “Somewhere in that ruin Saria is captive, I’m sure of it.” He set the hookshot by his side again and traded it for the Master sword, shifting its weight in his hand. “Nayru have no mercy on whatever gets in my way.”

Navi gulped as she followed Link through the archway, keeping close to him as the ivy and creepers, as well as absurdly large spider webs reached out from the walls and curved ceiling to brush against them like ghostly fingers. Link shuddered as he hurried through the hall, the sounds of his boots echoing in the space; he could see another small courtyard ahead; the passage they were in was probably more of an elongated gate than an actual hall. He’d never been inside the castle ruins, or the Forest Temple or whatever it’s correct name was, but he felt no thrill at this maiden voyage into it; his mind was occupied.

About a minute after entering the short hall, the two stepped forth into a square lawn, perhaps ten paces across in both directions. Ahead were a few shallow stairs leading up to a doorway, which was protected by a stone awning with ornately carved pillars. Two large trees stood a little in front of these, their thick boughs gnarled with age and drooping with creeper vines. The grass was unkempt, and it was mostly weeds; a few thorn bushes as tall as Link’s side grew near the bases of the trees, and on the steps before the door lay two lumps of ragged gray and brown fur, which expanded and shrunk in a rhythm; they were breathing.

Link’s face took on a grim expression as he switched his sword to his other hand, readying the hookshot with the vacated hand. Before Navi could point out that soaring over the heads of two sleeping – but still rabid and mad wolves – was not a good idea, Link had aimed the mechanism at the nearest creature’s skull and fired.

The hookshot made a decisive sound of a chain being snapped like a whip whenever it was fired. Maybe it had been muffled before by the sanctity of the courtyard, but here it sounded too loud; loud enough to wake one of the creatures up. And it did; one of them, at least. The other wolfos – like the moblin before – never saw its fate speeding towards it before it was fatally wounded.

The second creature awoke with a long, outraged howl at the disturbance. It stretched its paws before it, and then it saw the body of its wounded companion. The creature took two steps over, tongue lolling out, drooling. It gave the fresh corpse a thorough sniffing before – and both Link and Navi looked disgusted at this, even from a wolf, – biting into the creature’s skin-and-bones side, and beginning to devour the still-warm remains.

Link, for one, was in no temper or hurry to watch the spectacle, and shifted his position, bracing for an attack, clenching a weapon in each fist. “Hey!” he called, causing the creature to raise its head and look towards the hero, standing in the shadow of the arch “Come here, you mangy excuse for a mutt” Link grated as it leapt over the corpse, growling through its bloody mouthful as it ripped towards him.

This time he was prepared for the creature’s tactics, and moved forward – away from the wall – to meet it. As the mad wolf forward, Link dodged to the side, swinging out his arm, and landing a decent – if not exactly impressive, considering the hand he was using, – cut on the creature’s body. It gave a yelp, and stumbled as it hit the ground, but still spun surprisingly quickly to face him, growling as it made a jump for his throat. Link ducked, but was still met with a face full of wolfos, the weight of the seemingly scrawny creature and the impact itself sending him stumbling backward as he pushed against the creature with the Master Sword’s edge.

It jumped back with another yelp, and like lightning Link had the Hookshot aimed and fired; it went through and through the thing’s side, and sent it to the ground, letting loose more blood than Link thought was proportionate to its body; it emitted a high-pitched whine which continued as Link strode towards it, glaring down at the now feeble monster before setting the yet bloodied point of the hookshot against its skull.

One of Link’s gauntlets was a redder shade, and one of his sleeves was mostly red as he proceeded to the entrance, stepping over the corpse of the first wolfos, a stunned Navi following behind him.

The fey was having a hard time believing what she’d just seen; she could have sworn Link had been enjoying himself. Well, that was probably a stretch; she didn’t see any remorse on his face though, no pity for the wolf as it bled and whimpered for several seconds before Link mercifully obliterated it’s brain. He certainly didn’t seem to mind the blood all over his arm.

Unaware of his fairy’s frightened observations, Link replaced the Master Sword on his back and laid a bloodied hand on the door handle, leaving a red smear behind as he pulled it open and proceeded inside the castle.

The castle was built of the same white and light grey stones as the walls outside, and it was equally grown over with things outside, but inside – it still seemed a place fit for royalty, even royalty from a time long gone. On the floors lay rugs which were a bit shabby and faded, but not torn or ragged; cobwebs hung like ghastly sheets from the tall arched ceiling in the opening corridor, and tapestries embroidered with the epics of battles long gone by hung – faded and dust-laden as the rugs – from the walls. Time and stillness had preserved this place.

The tapestries depicted mostly scenes of a people clad in green, and were spotted with stars, castles and the recurring image of the Stone of Forest, the Kokiri’s emerald, and three gold-thread triangles; the holy Triforce. Link paid little to no attention to the fascinating artwork as he continued through the small hallway; it was warmer in here, probably due to the torches flaming in each corner, and one halfway down each wall on his left and his right.

Link paused as the presence of the torches sunk in, and stared at the wood and stone pinnacles, and the orange flames sprouting cheerfully from their heights. He took a step or two closer to one; they burned on oil in the bowls on top of each torch; oil would not last for the millennia it had to have been since this castle was inhabited. But if Saria had come here intentionally, she might have lit them for warmth, and comfort.

The thought that his old friend and guide might not be in that place against her will made Link hurry to the other end of the hall, where he threw the door open and opened his mouth to call for her, silently crying for the mercy of the Goddesses that there would still be someone good left in this world.

His words stopped in his mouth; he heard voices from below, and the sound made him catch his breath. Listening hard and squashing his disappointment deep inside, he could discern that they were very old, scratchy voices, like old women talking amongst themselves. He was sure they were speaking words, though he could not understand them; they were very quiet.

Keeping to the wall by the door he’d just entered by, Link surveyed the place; he was in a large room, standing on one of four balconies; there was a balcony on each wall of the room, and two huge archways with tall, solid wood gates branched out from the far corners. Stairs went down from three of the balconies, but one seemed to have only an entrance from the wall behind it, and no direct route into the rest of this room.

Careful not to be too loud, lest he should interrupt whomever was speaking in conference below, Link dropped down and walked low to the edge of the railing, where he hit his hands and knees and peered down below to see what was happening. In the center of the room was not much but four torches, each blazing with a differently coloured flame, and standing between these four torches, in the center of the room, were four strange things.

At first, Link wasn’t even sure he saw them; they were small, translucent things, and their forms seemed to shift like the shadows of grass, or a dim reflection in water. Squinting and staring hard, he could see that it was the forms of four women; dressed in ragged dresses which left their dark arms bare and which seemed to co-ordinate with the colors of the torch flames. There were no feet or lower bodies to be seen or evidenced; they seemed be not much but torso, arms and head, and each of them wore a strange, tall headdress of a fading fabric which bulged from their heads like old-fashioned crowns. Their eyes were bright as flames, and were the only easily perceivable parts of their bodies.

Even straining his ears Link wasn’t sure he could tell what was being said; he heard something, he thought, about a master, and about power, and guarding, then each of them turned, quite suddenly, from their conference, and hovered over a torch apiece. Link noted that they were small creatures; were he down there he doubted that – if they were set on the ground – they would come much higher than his waist. He could fight them if he could be sure that his sword would not merely slice through them, as it logically should have with any spirit.

Not wanting to risk it, Link stayed still as the sound of chanting echoed through the chamber, and he watched, puzzled, as the spirits raised translucent, ebony arms , and a small torch appeared in the hand of each; just as the flame faded out of the ground-bound torches, it reappeared in the hand of the ghost which stood over it. The chanting ceased, and the ghosts faded into the air, leaving an astonished hero staring into an empty room, all his worries crowding for precedence as they flooded back into his mind.