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Link staggered over the rise, pausing at the top to gaze over the seemingly endless expense of rocks and snow. He raised a hand to his face and squinted his eyes against the glare from the snow; after days of being out here, spots were beginning to dance in his vision and his headache was only growing. Hebra Mountain’s unforgiving terrain had left him battered and exhausted and he wasn’t ready to trudge on through the snow, feet slipping treacherously on the ice and legs threatening to give out.
The fact of the matter was that Link was dying. He’d been facing icy enemies since he first set foot in the region, but the silver Lynel he’d just barely defeated minutes before had taken more out of him than expected. He’d eaten most of his food; of what was left, he didn’t see how an increase in attack power or stealth could help him now, and heat resistance would likely do more harm than good (he needed that for when he returned to the desert anyway, or so he told himself). All but one of his shields had broken, along with half of his weapons, and although he’d salvaged a massive blunt instrument from the Lynel, he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to lift it to defend himself if he needed to. The one thing that had remained intact was his Snowquill armor. At least I won’t freeze to death.
Despite his weakened state, he refused to give up. Teleporting back to Rito, stocking up on food, and spending a night in a bed before setting out again would have been the smart thing to do, of course. But he’d promised a man at a stable (he couldn’t remember which man or which stable, but did it even matter?) that he’d come out here in search of Leviathan bones and he was far from the nearest shrine; it would take him ages to get back to this place if he left now. The thought of starting over, trekking all the way back out to this remote location when he had no idea if it was even near his goal…
I’m going to die running a pointless errand for a stranger.
And what was the point, really? He was sure the man would pay him -- they always did, these strangers who had him help out with things they couldn’t do on their own -- but he wasn’t short on money. The skeletons weren’t of particular interest to him, either, and despite their size, searching for them often felt like finding a needle in a haystack. So why…?
Link knew he was stalling. He had absolutely nothing significant to gain from this expedition except an excuse to avoid Hyrule Castle and the mission that had loomed over him since he first woke up: to defeat Ganon. That was his duty as the chosen hero of Hyrule. Appease the Divine Beasts, free the spirits of his fellow Champions, regain his memories, and finally take back the castle from the Calamity.
Well, he’d done all that already. The Divine Beasts were all locked onto the castle, waiting to assist him when he waged that final battle. He’d regained his memories, or at least the fragments he could dredge up from the photos on his Sheikah Slate. He only had one final step, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it on. Instead, he flitted aimlessly around Hyrule, taking on the tasks that only a Champion could complete, fighting Taluses and fetching far-off spices and wandering off into the middle of nowhere in search of the skeletons of alleged ancient beasts.
He felt a bit guilty, shirking his responsibility when he knew the Champions -- and everyone else in Hyrule, for that matter -- were counting on him. He knew Zelda could see him; she had to know he was stalling. He wondered how she’d feel about him doing this, wandering around on the verge of collapse for such a thing as this when she was trapped in the castle, holding back Ganon until Link finally returned to finish him off.
Perhaps in different circumstances, she would have been excited about the ancient skeletons; she would have wanted to come with him, do her own research based on their findings. But these were not those circumstances. He got the feeling she was just disappointed. Disappointed and tired.
Link was abruptly jerked from his thoughts when he tripped on something concealed in the powdery white landscape and landed facedown in the cold. She’s not the only one. For a moment, he simply lay there in the snow, face growing colder by the second even as his well-made armor kept the rest of his body warm.
He briefly considered staying there; waiting on the ground for his face and his hands to go numb and some wolf pack or stray Lizalfos to come by and finish him off. He pictured himself slowly being covered in snow until everything went numb and cold and dark and still. He could be done here. It wouldn’t really be giving up, anyway; he hadn’t needed Mipha to heal him for quite a while, and he was sure he could call on her again now. And if not?
I wouldn’t owe anything to anyone anymore.
But no. Slowly, he lifted his face out of the snow, rose unsteadily to his feet, and continued on.
Link wasn’t sure how long he walked for. The snow dazzled his eyes and he could barely see where he was going; meanwhile, his negative thoughts were spiraling. He could have walked straight off a cliff and not noticed.
This wasn’t a new experience; ever since King Rhoam revealed his identity and shattered Link’s comfortable bubble of ignorance, he’d had plenty of time to ruminate on his mission. He’d been on many a long nighttime ride with nothing to occupy him but his own thoughts. The world outside of the Great Plateau was big and threatening and at every turn there was a reminder of why he was even here -- ruins covered in vines; travelers under attack by bokoblins; enemies he’d defeated months ago resurrected by the blood moon. Poisoned bogs of water tainted by the Calamity that hurt to touch. Guardians, active or otherwise, scattered across Hyrule.
This was no nighttime ride, however, and he had no horse to watch the road for him and avoid obstacles on its own, which is why he didn’t even notice the cooking pot until he stumbled into it, banging his shin painfully and crumpling into a heap. He was so caught up in cursing the obstacle as he laid in the snow waiting for the pain to abate that it was several seconds before he realized the significance of what he’d just stumbled into.
A cooking pot! He had plenty of raw meat and spicy peppers in his bag. A glimmer of hope gently warmed him, and he stood up, turning around to get a full picture of his surroundings.
It was more than just a cooking pot; it was a secret hot spring. Old barrels were strewn around the area; a pile of firewood was tucked against a scraggly tree; and of course, the hot spring itself was a mere few feet away from the cooking pot. Link didn’t hesitate, walking directly into the waiting water without taking his armor off. There was enough magic in it to protect him from the frigid air even while soaked through.
Finally, Link began to relax. Perhaps he wouldn’t die, after all. He could already feel his strength returning; as soon as he was healed up, he could start a fire, cook enough food to hold him over for the duration of his trip through the mountains, and spend the night near the warmth. Soon enough he would find that skeleton and return to the stable to claim his reward. It would be fun, and maybe he could find some use for the extra money.
And then?
Though Link was still daunted by the idea of being a hero… He supposed he was as ready as he would ever be. He sank deeper into the warm water, contemplating. He still had a few days for this most recent task, and he would need to stock up on ancient weapons and armor in Akkala before approaching the castle. But the more he thought over the idea, the more confident he felt that he should try.
I’m coming, Zelda. I won’t let you down.