Author's Note:

Not intended for commercial purposes. The Legend of Zelda and all its characters belong to Nintendo.

Caution, this horror story contains dark situations. Blood, torture, depictions of violence and other nasty things.

I've made a few corrections and minor changes here and there. Reviews are welcome and appreciated.

Shadows of Spilt Blood:

Chapter 1 The Girl of my Dreams Lives in…

"Please." The girl pleaded. Her eyes wide with fear, she held her frail hands in front of her as she slowly backed into the corner of the darkened room. "I don't deserve this. Please, have mercy." She shook her head with each word, trying to deny the wrong about to be committed upon her. Yet her administrations did nothing against the approaching robed figures. Her whimpers came softly as her feverish eyes darted for an escape. She backed up slowly, her bare feet nearly slipping on the waterlogged wood of the shackle house. Sniffing now, uncontrollably as tears ran freely from her eyes. She was slowly pressed against the wall.

Trying with all her strength to pass through the ancient wood to some safety, she in turn, tried to scan the faces of her enemies. Like the lurking darkness outside, their faces were obscured. Her loose and ragged shift, her only protection, hung limply around her. She couldn't have been more than fifteen.

They approached her confidently. Arms at their sides, they blocked all paths of flight, their large powerful bodies were like avatars of desecration compared to her weak and thin form. They seemed to emanate darkness. As they drew closer, the little light in the house began to seep into them. It was as if they were draining away her hope from the air around them.

She tried one last appeal. One last attempt to reach their humanity. She was a lost child. No one cared for her, she was not important, she was harmless. She was innocent. Why, why would anyone wish her harm?

Oh but dear. It is because you are innocent, because you are harmless, because you are lost… The darkness breathed. You will bring us closer to the god, we will take your life, we will drink your blood, we will devour your soul…

She wanted to scream. Tried to scream, but nothing came out. A metallic taste filled her mouth. A thick stench began to convulse in her throat, with sinister speed it cut off the flow of air. She lifted her hands to her neck, panic was setting in, she couldn't breath. Clawing at her throat she lifted her chin and stared skyward.

We will drink your blood, we will…

Gasping, choking, she felt herself go faint. The house was spinning. Her terror was becoming a physical obstruction in her body. Her eyes bulged, "please…" she croaked.

…devour your soul…

This time, she found she could scream. She let her voice out and filled the house with her scream. She screamed, felt the blood drain from her face. Slowly, she sank to the floor. With no air left to her, she couldn't summon anything left, be scream or to cry. Her eyes flashed as something cold and cruel ripped into her heart.

The scream that woke him was his own. He thrashed from his bedroll and leaped to his feet before the tangled sheets pulled him back down again like a jealous lover. As his face made contact with the wet grass he was already embarrassed.

Epona gave an irritated neigh at the rude awakening. She lazily got her legs out from under her and stood up. She shook her head and stomped her hoof.

Link pulled himself up into a sitting position to get off the wet grass. He leaned on the tree he had been sleeping under. Glancing up, he could see through the canopy of leaves the stars were still out. However, his keen sense of time (he had a very good one) told him morning was soon to arrive.

Sighing, he untangled his legs from the sheets wet from his sweat. It was summer in Hyrule and in this part of the land, past the Goron plateau, nearly two hundred miles form Death Mountain and Hyrule proper, it was seasonable hot. One could sleep through the humid nights in the forest. Which is, exactly what Link was doing.

He stretched out his arms and moved his head side to side. He reached over and pulled his shirt from his pack and pulled it over his sweaty back and chest. He had been away from Hyrule and it's princess for nearly three years. It felt like an eternity.

The forest he was in, he did not know its name, was home to seemingly nothing but the most timid of deer that bolt at the first sound its white tipped ears caught. In all of the three weeks he had been traveling through it, he had seen not one wolf, coyote, nor bear. Even birds seemed hard to come by. And Link had looked. The trees that he had climbed had no traces of nests. There were no dung or borrows in the ground that would indicate wolves or other predators. Yet the forest teemed with plant life. The trees were tall, strong and thick. He had not seen a forest as dense as this one before. Except the Lost Woods. Of course this place lacked the formers mystical power to entrap travelers.

He stood up, dusted the dew from his tunic and leggings. He rolled up his bed and attached it to Epona's saddle. He then went about cleaning his campsite. Best to leave no impression he had been there.

It was times like these, when he missed companionship. Already, he had trouble remembering Navi's shrill interrupting voice. Thankfully her kindness and guidance were more memorable.

His journey began as a mission to find his lost friend after his role as the Hero of Time ended. He had traveled with Epona, and a bundle of supplies the Princess had made him take, across Hyrule back to where it all began. He combed the Kokiri forest, visited the Forest Temple, and the various fairy grottos, but had no luck. Setting aside all other concerns, he journeyed into the Lost Woods.

His path eventually led to his encounter with the mysterious Skull-Kid. Ultimately from there, he was led into the world of Termina. He didn't spend as much time as he probably should thinking about Majora and the world of Termina. The whole episode was like a bizarre dream that ended with him finding a path out of the Lost Woods.

He smiled at the memory of that day, he had been riding for over eight hours, beginning to wonder if he would ever find his way back to Hyrule when…poof! All of a sudden he was walking right out of the Lost Woods and into a valley as large as Hyrule Field. From there he had journeyed east and then north. Over the course of his travels he encountered towns and villages; small cities, and tribes of Zoras and fishermen, forest folk and farmers. He traded for local maps with these people to learn his immediate location. For the sake of doing something, he personally set out to map outer Hyrule.

For three years his mission sustained him. When he found things of value, magical items for example. He did what only seemed logical to him. He sent them to the Princess. Often it took some doing to arrange someone to travel with items as far as he was asking them to go, but for the right price they would generally oblige him. That was where he had sent the few masks in his possession after Termina. He felt a strong twinge of longing for Hyrule, as he thought of his maps and magical items that he sent away.

He was fourteen when he realized that the mountain peak in the distance was Death Mountain. The gravity of that forced him to stay at the nearest village for two weeks. After much deliberation he had turned east again. Away from Hyrule.

With the last of his camp cleared away, he mounted Epona who snorted at the delay and started trotting through the forest.

It wasn't the country of Hyrule he missed the most. No. There was one person in particular that he missed. Or perhaps 'missed' wasn't the right word. He didn't know if he knew her well enough to miss her. Rather, he missed the ability to get to know her. Over the last year, he felt a growing desire to return home. Ironic because I have no home. He thought with a frown. But the desire was there of course. He wanted to see Zelda again.

Over the hours that he walked, his mind returned to the dream. He had been having it for the past few days. He wasn't used to having such vivid dreams. The last time he had such a dream, it signaled the beginning of a quest to save Hyrule from Ganondorf. But those dreams were different. Despite the initial shock and dread upon awakening. The images in his mind faded fast. Remembering them was like trying to read words in the sand after the tide had just come in.

A full night's sleep eluded him as long as the dreams went on. And he was no closer to understanding why he was having them. He glanced up from his musings and saw with some surprise that it was morning now. Based on the length of the shadows, near noon.

"I have to pay more attention." He muttered to himself. Epona snorted as if agreeing.

Link paid the horse no heed; something else was distracting him. Intrigued, he urged Epona on. Within a few moments he spotted the source of the disruption. A small caravan attached to an old looking horse sat upon the path between trees. The caravan, a colorfully designed cart, was tipping to the left. The wheels on the left-hand side were caught in mud. A flustered looking man was circling the cart and waving his arms in distress. Link could hear catches of the man's complaints, cursing the horse, cursing the forest, cursing the mud and most likely his own luck.

"Need some help, sir?" Link called. He didn't want to surprise the clearly upset fellow by sneaking up on him. The stranger turned and stood, slightly amazed he hadn't seen Link approaching.

"G'day to you lad." The man muttered. He had taken to staring morosely at his cart. As Link approached he surveyed the damage. Dismounting he circled the wagon and horse. He walked up to the man and extended his hand.

"Good day, name is Link, sir. I see you need some help."

"Ah yes." He nodded. "Gudardi Goosehardi, at your service." The man said, bowing and tipping his dusty hat. He looked to in his fifties, fairly fit, most likely a traveling merchant. His clothes indicated a decent level of income. But Link could not decipher his origin based on his style. "I appear to be at a loss. If I don't get my wagon out of this cursed mud hole I shall be left homeless and poor. Alas, woe is me." Link had traveled enough paths to know how to fix a caravan. He had assisted in a number of such endeavors. He had a hard time believing the man had never had to pull his cart out of the mud before.

"Don't worry." Link said. "I've been in this situation before. All we need is some branches and a shovel…"

"Oh hurrah!" shouted Goosehardi, clapping his hands. "You will help me! How wonderful. The sooner I put that dastardly town behind me the better!"

"Town?"

"My dear boy, where are your shovels?"

"Wait." Link began. "Which town are you talking about?" The man reached up and wiped his brow.

"Why my lad. I speak of Wolfsknife. The village yonder, seven miles east." Link frowned.

"I didn't know there was a town near here. I was under the impression that the nearest settlement was at least twelve miles north east, along the Deer River." The man gave Link a strange stare for a moment.

"Yee never heard of Wolfsknife?" Goosehardi asked.

"No." Link said, drawing his map from Epona's pack, "here look." He showed Goosehardi. "This is where we are, right?" Link asked pointing.

"Aye. And here." The man pointed to an unmarked spot on the map, not far from their present location. "Is Wolfsknife."

Link rolled up the map and put it away.

"You don't seem to be too fond of Wolfsknife." Link said.

"Indeed." Goosehardi said angrily. "It is a foul town. Its hotels are dingy. The beer is warm, and its women are cold!" Link nodded at the familiar list of complaints. Somehow this man didn't surprise him too much. "And," he continued. "The dead walk." That caught Link off guard.

"Say again."

"I said, the dead walk." Goosehardi said heavily. Link only stared at him. "Don't look at me that way lad. I don't intend to be mocked by a boy whose balls haven't dropped." Goosehardi warned.

Link turned away.

"My apologies." He muttered. "I was just surprised, that's all."

"Ah, no matter. I shouldn't lose my temper like that. With you helping me and all."

"Yes. Yes, lets, lets get you out of here." Link said getting to work.

Goosehardi seemed more interested in watching Link do the work then actually helping. He stood leaning against a tree as Link tried to wedge a stick under the wheel of the wagon. As Link worked, he talked of Wolfsknife, which didn't bother the hero, he had a feeling Wolfsknife was going to be an important stop.

"The Golden Slog." Goosehardi said, munching on an apple.

"The Golden Slog?" Link repeated getting to his feet. His tunic was covered in mud; he had toss aside his cap half an hour ago under the warm glare of the sun. Standing, he stretched out his back and wiped the sweat from his brow.

"A fine establishment." Goosehardi continued. "The stew is thick, the ale is stout, and oh yes, the women are soft." He chuckled and wandered over the wagon, he slid open a panel and pulled two flasks from a drawer. He dragged the nearest barrel over and poured beer into each flask, turning he handed one to Link. "Cheers." He said before downing a large mouthful. "You like girls right?" He asked, a little warily.

Link accepted the flask and gave a nod with some exasperation. This fellow sure liked to talk, oddly enough though, it was not about the dead walking but rather the dank pubs he frequented that he enjoyed going on about. He took a sip from the flask and was mildly surprised to find the drink acceptable. As if this signaled some sort of break, Link took a seat next the wagon. Goosehardi sat down under his tree.

"You mentioned that the town was dangerous." Link probed.

"Aye. But…ah…I guess not all bad. Mind you, every town has its dirty little secrets." He said taking a swing from his drink.

"Every town has to have a Mido." Link murmured.

"What? Oh never mind. Anyway…for the most part, Wolfsknife is, rather was, a trading town specializing in wolf's pelts. But after a few generations the wolfs stopped coming around. Well the town never really recovered. They got (hic) fields of wheat." He raised his hand to his mouth and coughed. "Excuse me, they got farms and that sort of thing. But nothing, (hic) you know, nothing like what it used to be."

"A trading post?" Link ventured.

"Damn right." Said Goosehardi.

"So the wolf population dries up. Why didn't the people leave?"

"Oh some did." Goosehardi indicated travel by gesturing with his hand. "Swoop! Like that." He said pointing north. "But a lot stayed behind. I guess they thought the wolves would come back. And they also hunted (hic) deer. And, um, and deer and you know those little things…with the white fur…"

"Rabbits?"

"Uh yeah! Probably. Anyway, people kept traveling through Wolfsknife, and even though the wolf trade was gone, they would trade other furs and gold and silver. Fish. That sort of thing."

Link nodded, most towns he had visited were not self-sufficient. They survived by either farming vast plots of land, or had access to a resource like fish or in rare cases - game. If a town was unable to maintain an economy to support its citizens it usually devolved into a poverty stricken hovel. Link had seen a fair many of those. One of the side effects of an economically declining town was crime went up. Towns would become haunted, just not by ghosts, but destitute people.

"What about the 'walking dead' part?" Link asked cautiously. Goosehardi glanced up at the sky. His finger traced the rim of his flask.

"Something evil lives there." He at last murmured. "I don't know if its all the wolf's blood they spilled or maybe the people they killed."

"Who did they kill?" Link pressed.

"Criminals. People who stole." A long pause. "Back before, when the trade was still strong. They had harsh penalties for theft. Any crime actually…they usually hung people. Or…threw em' in the dungeon."

"Why were they so harsh? What changed?" Link asked. He still had a feeling that something was definitely wrong with this town.

"Rumor is, back then, they had a lunatic mayor. Or city governor, whatever he was. Some old tribe, used to drink blood, said it gave them visions. Maybe they drank the wolf's blood…who knows." Goosehardi said with a flick of his hand.

Link thought it over. Without knowing the history of the town he couldn't be certain. What he did know is that over time, vile cruel deeds could literally manifest into something. The Sheikah used to channel that dark energy. It was how the Shadow Temple began. Hyrule used to have a dark past. And no one really knows what happened those years ago that created the evil that lurks under Kakariko village and the Shadow Temple, Link reflected.

If something similar was happening in Wolfsknife, Link wanted to discover it. However, he needed to visit the town. Goosehardi didn't have enough information and Link wasn't sure what the man told him was all that reliable. His gut instinct was to investigate himself.

Over the course of the day Link helped Goosehardi get his wagon back on solid ground. To reward him, Goosehardi gave him nearly a hundred rubies. Before they parted ways Goosehardi handed him a glass bottle of ale.

"It'll keep you strong. Remember lad; keep your wits about you there. Farewell." Link thanked him and mounted Epona and headed in the direction of the town. About half way he headed south.

Goosehardi had told him that near a small stream in the south was a "dark" site. Link had a feeling that this so-called "dark" place might give him an idea on what to expect in Wolfsknife.

He took his time traveling there. Epona seemed pleased with their progress, she didn't nicker at him annoyingly or stomp her feet. The path began to decline and soon they were walking downhill, after twenty minutes, Link first heard the spring. The trees were more bare, some looked as though they had been lit on fire. The ground was moist. Dew still hung to the grass. This area probably didn't get much sunlight.

As he neared the lowlands, he glanced back the way he had come. The town must actually be on higher ground. The area he was in appeared to drop off in some sense. Perhaps a much larger river had flowed here eons ago. Essentially the stream flowed through a narrow valley between this small canyon. Wolfsknife must be on the north side. To the south, up the highland, stretched a vast forest.

The sun was getting lower in the sky. And something was unnerving Epona. Link was equally disquieted. The stream seemed to flow with unnatural swiftness. It produced the only noise in the valley. As if all other sounds had been driven away at the point of a sword. The air had a heavy feel to it, which made Epona shake her head and twitch her ears. Link led her downstream.

With her hoofs pressing into the leafy grass, Link soon spotted the source of the disturbance. With a frown he examined the massive tree from which the three bodies hung.

It was clearly old. And dead. Yet the branches appeared strong. It looked more statuesque then nature. Hanging limply were three nooses suspended from different branches. The victim in each was long dead.

Their skin was withered. Eyes were closed, except for one. Link could tell by the bulging of the necks and protrusion of the eyes that these people didn't die quickly. Their necks didn't snap. They died of asphyxiation. The cloths they wore were of simple design. It didn't mark them as particularly rich or poor. Two of them had their hands tied behind their backs. The other, his hands hung limp at his sides, his fingernails worn away. They were all men, middle aged; they all had slight rips in their shirts. One was barefoot.

Link remained in his saddle. He watched as the victims hung limp. A breeze went by but didn't disturb their final positions, not even their hair moved. He examined their faces, not sure what he was looking for.

Finally satisfied that they were indeed dead. Of course their dead, they've been there for days. He turned Epona and together they made their way to Wolfsknife. Dead, hung, was it public? Were they criminals? Or was it murder? Link did not look back as he left the valley and was once again on the highlands.

After nearly an hour of journeying he saw the town ahead of him. Walls made of lumber. Lights were placed around the gates. His mind wandered back to the dead men. Why did the leaves on their feet look so fresh?