Chapter 8: The Superior Meat Stick
The mud sucked at Link’s feet as he pushed through the thick ferns lining the riverbank. The air hung heavy, thick with the smell of wet earth, rotting vegetation, and something else… something alive and lurking beneath the brown water’s surface. Behind him, Gark, Varn, Gor, and Krell trudged, silent except for their heavy breathing. The easy jungle sounds – screeching birds, buzzing insects – felt sharp, accusatory.
Link stopped, turning slowly. The river rushed past, swirling around submerged logs, wide and dangerous. He looked at each man in turn, his face hard despite the forgiveness he’d grunted earlier in the cave. Zelda’s calm acceptance of their… gift… unsettled him more than anger would have. It felt like deep water hiding sharp teeth.
"River," Link stated, his voice rough. He pointed a thick finger at the rushing water. "Good water. Clean bad… smell." He wrinkled his nose meaningfully, recalling the cloying scent that had hung in the cave after Zelda had smeared herself. Gark flushed crimson, looking at his feet. Varn flinched.
"Zelda smart," Link continued, his gaze locking onto Gark, then Varn. "Use gift. Make clean. Shiny." He paused, letting the image sink in – Zelda methodically rubbing their spent seed into her skin. Krell stared stoically at the river, but a muscle twitched in his jaw. Gor just looked confused, scratching his armpit. "But Zelda…" Link thumped his own chest hard. "Mine. Link mate. Link strong." He pointed directly at his groin, his expression fierce. "Meat stick big. Zelda happy. Only Link make Zelda happy juice shoot. Understand? Zelda Link place."
He took a step closer to Gark, looming. "Respect Zelda. Respect Link. Or…" He slammed his fist into his open palm with a meaty thwack. "Link break. Like dry stick."
Gark swallowed hard, nodding vigorously. "Yes, Link! Respect! Gark sorry! Bad think!"
"Varn sorry!" Varn blurted, voice trembling. "No shoot Zelda again! Never!"
Krell gave a single, sharp nod. "Respect."
Gor blinked. "Gor… share food? Not juice?"
"Not juice," Link growled, the tension easing slightly but not vanishing. The river’s rush filled the awkward silence. Bor needed food. Weak. Zelda needed roots from the far bank for his fever. Time wasting. "Hunt now. Big swimmer." He pointed downstream where the river widened into a muddy lagoon. Hippos wallowed there sometimes. Meat. Good fat. "Water deep. Quiet. Fast."
He scanned the bank, his hunter's senses overriding the lingering anger. The mud was churned near the water’s edge – fresh tracks, big ones, heading towards the lagoon. Hippo. Big bull, maybe. Perfect. But the water… dangerous. Logs moved. Teeth waited.
"Krell," Link commanded, pointing to a gnarled tree leaning precariously over the lagoon. "Climb high. See big swimmer. See teeth in water. Warn." Krell nodded, already moving with silent grace, testing handholds on the slick bark.
"Varn, Gor," Link gestured to a thick patch of reeds near the bank downstream. "Hide. Wait. Make noise if teeth come close. Bang sticks." He mimed striking rocks together. They scrambled into position, looking relieved to have a task, any task.
"Gark," Link fixed him with a hard stare. "With Link. Spear ready." He handed Gark his second-best spear, its tip razor-sharp flint. Gark gripped it tightly, knuckles white, the weight a reminder of both trust and consequence.
Link hefted his own heavy spear, the mammoth tine gleaming dully. He waded into the shallows, the cold water swirling around his calves, then his thighs. The mud oozed between his toes. Gark followed, breathing shallowly. The deeper water ahead looked dark, impenetrable. Link paused, listening. Only the lap of water and the distant grunt of the hippo herd from the lagoon.
Then, movement. A ripple, not from the current. Close. Link froze, spear poised. Gark gasped, stumbling back a step, raising his spear clumsily. A large, moss-covered log drifted past, bumping against submerged roots. Nothing. Just the river playing tricks. Link grunted, a sound of dismissal and annoyance at Gark's jumpiness. He pushed deeper, the water now chest-high.
The stench hit them suddenly – thick, pungent, like rotting grass and hot animal. The bull hippo was massive, half-submerged in the reeds on the far edge of the lagoon, only its nostrils and the armored dome of its head visible. Perfectly unaware. Link signaled Gark to flank left, staying low in the water. They moved like shadows, the river muffling any sound.
Krell’s sharp whistle cut through the humid air – two short bursts. Teeth. Crocodile.Close. Link’s head snapped towards Krell’s perch. The hunter pointed urgently downstream, near where Varn and Gor hid. Link saw it then – a ripple with purpose, a dark shape gliding just below the surface, long and sinister, heading towards the reeds where Varn and Gor were concealed. Towards the sound of nervous shuffling they were making.
"VARN! GOR! TEETH!" Link bellowed, the sound echoing across the water. "BANG STICKS! NOW!"
From the reeds, frantic clattering erupted. Varn and Gor hammered rocks against their spear shafts, a sudden, jarring racket. The dark shape in the water hesitated, undulating slightly. The bull hippo, startled by the noise, let out a deep, rumbling bellow and began to heave its colossal bulk upright, water cascading off its grey hide. Now. The distraction was happening, but not as planned.
"GARK! NOW!" Link roared, surging forward through the water, raising his spear as the hippo turned its massive head, tiny eyes glaring with primal rage. It opened its cavernous mouth, revealing tusks like curved daggers, and charged through the shallows with shocking speed, a wall of muscle and fury aimed directly at Link. The water churned white.
Gark, paralyzed for a split second by the sight of the charging behemoth and the lurking crocodile, finally moved. Not towards the hippo, but towards Link’s flank, spear held high. He screamed, a raw sound of terror and aggression, and hurled his spear with all his strength. It wasn't aimed at the hippo's vulnerable neck or eye. It flew wide, skimming the water harmlessly yards away.
"Idiot!" Link snarled, bracing himself, his own spear a deadly extension of his arm. He waited, muscles coiled, the hippo’s hot, fetid breath blasting over him. Time slowed. The crocodile, deterred by the banging, slid away downstream. Varn and Gor stared, wide-eyed, from the reeds. Krell watched, poised.
The hippo was a thunderous wave of flesh and water. Link didn't flinch. At the last possible instant, as the gaping maw engulfed his vision, he lunged downward, not forward. He plunged his spear deep into the soft mud and threw his entire weight sideways, rolling beneath the surging water as the hippo’s bulk passed over him with a force that churned the riverbed. He felt the scrape of rough hide against his back, the crushing displacement of water.
He surfaced gasping, blinking water from his eyes. The hippo, confused by the sudden disappearance of its target, bellowed again, turning its massive head. And there was Gor. Having scrambled out of the reeds in a panic, he stood frozen, exposed on a muddy shelf, directly in the bull’s path. The hippo saw him. It lowered its head, a battering ram of bone and rage, and charged again.
Gor screamed, pure terror. He raised his pathetic digging stick. Link surged towards him, water dragging at his legs, knowing he was too far, too slow. The hippo closed the distance, a juggernaut of death. Gor squeezed his eyes shut.
THUNK!
A spear sprouted from the hippo’s shoulder. Not deep, but enough. The beast roared, a sound of shock and pain, veering slightly off course. Its momentum carried it past Gor, who crumpled backwards into the mud, untouched but for the spray. Link whirled. Krell was already nocking another spear to his thrower from his high perch. His face was stone.
The hippo, wounded and furious, turned its attention back towards the deeper water, towards Link. But it was dazed. Slower. Link didn't hesitate. He charged into its retreat, water flying. He leaped, grabbing a handful of the hippo’s tough hide with one hand, hauling himself partly onto its back as it thrashed. The world became a blur of churning brown water, grey hide, and the deafening bellows. With his other hand, Link drove his spear down with all his strength, aiming for the spine where the thick neck met the massive shoulders. He felt the flint bite deep, grating on bone. He shoved, twisted.
The hippo shuddered violently. A guttural, wet groan escaped it. Its legs buckled. The colossal weight began sinking, pulling Link down with it into the murky, blood-clouded water. He let go, kicking frantically to break free as the dying beast rolled, its great eye glazing over. Bubbles exploded from its nostrils. Then stillness, save for the spreading crimson stain in the lagoon.
Link surfaced, dragging in great lungfuls of air. He wiped river muck and blood from his eyes. Gor was scrambling backwards on the mud, gibbering. Varn stared, slack-jawed, from the reeds. Gark stood waist-deep, looking stunned, his useless spear floating nearby. Krell climbed down from the tree, his expression unreadable.
Link waded to the massive carcass, placing a hand on its cooling flank. Meat. So much meat. Fat. Strength for the tribe. For Bor. For Zelda. He looked at Gark, then at the floating spear, then back to the dead hippo. He didn't need to say anything. The lesson was written in the mud, the blood, and the sheer, dumb luck that had saved Gor.
"Cut meat," Link ordered, his voice hoarse but firm. He pointed to the hippo, then towards the distant cave. "Fast. Before teeth smell blood." He glanced downstream, where the crocodile had vanished. It would be back. They all felt it. The river, for now, was quiet. But it never stayed quiet for long. The real danger was just below the surface.