From his ship, Cuban Pete watched Ganondorf's Castle sinking. He breathed a sigh of disappointment, and shook his head. After all, there could have been useful loot in there. If not, there was probably a host of defenders just [i]waiting[/i] for him to come and deal with them. Oh well, at least he got three prime specimens out. Now, where were they...?

Cuban Pete scanned the area around the crater, and managed to find several massive footsteps ringed by lingering embers. Pete wagered a guess that wherever the beast went, its targets went as well. Pete traced the footsteps... back into the castle. The castle that was now rapidly crumbling and almost certainly wasn't safe to be anywhere [i]near[/i], let alone [i]inside[/i]. 

Pete began to unleash a scream. A scream that sang of anger, of hatred, of deeply-entrenched depression. A scream that made absolutely no sound because its origin didn't have vocal chords anymore. A scream that was, in fact, more of a prolonged wheeze.