One Last Look

Waking of Tuesday, May 2, 2017 ~ 4

One Last Look

The game’s rendering of the distant environment really played some cruel mirage jokes on me: I thought for sure I saw a crack in the stone that the water might flow through, but.... no, it must only have been the joint between two very large polygons.

Some way upstream, a convenient pathway led up from a sandy bank on the non-Satori side. The rock formations surrounding it were.... strange and impressive! Arcing over the path and jutting ruggedly into the air. I climbed to the highest point I could on these formations, considering what to do. I could think of only one more course to take....

My last option... was to climb Satori Mountain itself.

From its crest I could make doubly sure that the river really did stop there.

I studied the craggy mountainface over the opposite bank—the back of Satori Mountain; there was one ledge it seemed I’d be able to make if I scrambled.... I pulled out my paraglider and leapt for it.

And it was a scramble. Even with my Climber’s Bandana on, I had to drink my very last stamina elixir—the one I hadn’t used taming Memory—to get on top of it where I could properly stand again.

That had been close. And the next ledge looked.... pretty far away. But I was sure I could make it.... if I could beeline most directly....

I started climbing....

I got.... close....

But my grip was failing....

And I hadn’t found level enough footing to rest—

And I was out of elixirs. And my raw Stamella Shrooms wouldn’t help me.

I started to slide.

I dug my heels into the rock, balancing madly and slowing myself somewhat—I could feel my energy coming back to me if I could just stop my sliding—the rock slid up before my face—I dropped from slope to slope—my toes wouldn’t grip—my arms were burned out—I couldn’t hold on—

And then there was nothing but air. The rushing grew louder in my ears as I dropped, too winded even to pull out my paraglider.

I fell two hundred feet.

My boots slammed onto a large boulder beside the river as I crunched down onto heels and tibias and fibulas and femurs that should have snapped like dry twigs—

But the shimmering teal spectre of a she-Zora enfolded me in its gentle arms before dissipating in a twinkling and a loving whisper . . . .

I stood stunned for a moment.

I was whole.

I was fine.

....I was back at the bottom of the river.

“....Thanks, Mipha,” I murmured, and started swimming toward the pathway out again.

In the end I simply made the little trek back to Jeddo Bridge, and crossed over to Satori Mountain from there. The climb to its peak was easy enough, and, as I traveled by daylight, no glowing beasts crossed my path, which was nice. I did however encounter a great unkindness of ravens higher up [it was actually a murder of crows]—I snapped the pictograph of one of them as my shrine-detector began to beep.

Satori Mountain was hilly; the shrine was difficult to find. It seemed to be directly on the other side of the peak from where I was.

But that was fine with me—I needed to climb up there anyway. And I did. And it was cold at the top.

I didn’t think to put on my Warm Doublet, but just quickly scanned the surrounding landscape.

The rivers did not continue further that I could see.

They really did stop.

I shivered—the altitude was beginning to affect my wellbeing. I had to get lower, and find that shrine....

The shrine belonged to one Mogg Latan, and he seemed to really enjoy making life tremendously difficult. That was a hard-won Spirit Orb. Well played, Mogg Latan.

It was dark when I emerged from the shrine, I don’t remember whether from the night or only the rain. But there were still no glowing beasts about, which was just spiffing.

I surveyed the land as best I could from a lower perch.

The splits of the river seemed to encompass Satori Mountain for most of its circumference. They did all seem to head in a general south-southwestern direction before they ran out.... all of them reaching just to the left of that tiered red mountain range....

Maybe....

Maybe if the rivers had been overflowing.... did they connect to something further? More waterways?

I would take just one more look—just one more.

I would paraglide across the little valley, climb up over the shoulder of the tiered mountains, and if there was no water over on the other side....

Then I would need a new plan to find Mei.

I first took a little break to investigate an enormous skeleton crashed on a high meadow of the mountain—there was a mighty Gerudo sword buried in its ribcage—and then with a flying leap took the long sail through the air to the foothills of the tiered red mountain range.

The Gerudo Highlands they were called. And they were full of Koroks, and wolves.

It was not a long climb. Just to the shoulder. Just to the shoulder—I stopped to riddle out the most elaborate Korok stone-circle I had ever seen, and then kept running—killing more wolves along the way—

Just to the shoulder....

And I mounted the last wide hill and I looked over the land on the other side—

More mountains met my gaze.

Just a beigesandy expanse of valleys and canyons and plateaus that looked.... vaguely familiar actually....

“Wait a minute,” I asked David, “Isn’t this the place where you found the giant golden statue of Tingle?”

He said it was.

But there were no waterways.

“Is there water in the bottom of that canyon?” I pressed.

David said there wasn’t.

There was no water on this side.

I did not know where the lake was.

I couldn’t find Mei.

I couldn’t find Mei.

After a long while....

I went back to the Outskirt Stable.

It wasn’t far, just a long paraglide back across the other split of the river, and a quick dodge round a skipping Fire Wizzrobe.

I booked my bunk again, and slept.

Memory is not fully bonded with me yet. But I don’t begrudge him some part of himself to keep to himself.

He is a noble stallion.