Chapter One
The Seperatist fell with a groan and a huge red smile in his guts and with him went the last sound of battle. Silence reigned across the blood-stained snow and the sun glittered, sometimes blindingly, on the ice crystals. The dead lay where they had fallen; occasionally at peace, often in pieces. They stared at the sun with dead eyes and reached for their weapons with nerveless hands and Cloud thought that they would be preserved that way forever, like a chocobo fillet left at the bottom of a freezer.
As far as Cloud could tell he was the only survivor of the battle. He had been injured, he couldn't quite say when, but his left arm had been slashed by something with a sharp edge and his hip and been grazed by a bullet, presumably a friendly one. The Seperatists usually didn't carry guns, they were all about the command materia. The wounds were minor but his warm clothing had been pierced and he wasn't exactly carrying a needle a thread. This cold could take fingers, toes, noses. Even arms. Cloud set about looking for a new, undamaged coat, stepping in snow up to his knees as he went, but even with the amount of quickly cooling bodies lying around him he didn't expect to find one. He'd just have to take the biggest jacket he could find, holes and all, and wrap himself in it.
There was a crunch as a boot broke the snow and Cloud spun to face it, sword in hand. A dishevelled but thickly wrapped figure stood before him, long spear ready in his hands. 'I was hoping it wouldn't be you,' said a rough voice.
Cloud sunk into a low guard and stared him down like snake ready to strike. He didn't reply.
'You're a cold bastard,' the man with the spear said.
The swordsman shifted his weight and prepared to leap over the snow, his Jump command materia already glowing dully in his armlet. He had to be ready, he knew that this one could leap just as well as he could. He'd seen it many times. 'What should I tell the others?' Cloud asked.
The spearman's face was half covered by his cold weather gear but his eyes frowned. 'Tell them...' he sighed, 'tell them that just cos they're on the winning side, it don't mean they're on the right side.'
Cloud jumped and half a second later his opponent followed. The weapons clanged against each other and the snowflakes were lit by sparks as metal met metal. Cloud landed and half a second later his opponent followed.
Cloud stayed on his feet. His opponent didn't.
He leaned on his sword for a moment, clutching his chest. The Seperatist had pierced his armour with a nasty thrust and only Cloud's agility had allowed him to avoid being skewered. Examining it now he found that he had a jagged cut across his chest, one day it would be a vicious scar. He hadn't been much for aesthetics recently so he didn't particularly care about that, but he did care about the blood he was losing. He suddenly felt groggy and spots filled his vision. He stumbled and caught himself on one knee.
A silvery laugh cut through his dizziness, and his sight cleared slowly. He looked up; there was a strangeness about all the landscape that he couldn't describe — an unfamiliar tinge to earth and sky. But he didn't have time to think about it. Before him, swaying like a sapling in the wind, stood a woman. Her body was like ivory to his dazed gaze, and save for a light scrap of pink cloth, she was naked. Her slender bare feet were whiter than the snow they skated on. She laughed down at the bewildered warrior. Her laughter was sweeter than the rippling of soft water in an oasis and Cloud's eyes widened as they fell on her face.
'I thought...'
She smiled and flicked her long braid out to her side lazily. 'Were you thinking of me?'
Suddenly Cloud was on two knees. 'Always.'
'That's sad, Cloud. So sad.' She grinned, her cheeks dimpling. She danced on delicate toes, twirling with unreal grace. Cloud couldn't help himself, he looked at parts of her that weren't her face, parts even lovelier. She didn't fall through the snow but tip toed across the top of it as if she weighed nothing.
'I thought you were dead.'
She laughed. 'Am I beautiful, Cloud?'
His head hurt to look at her, both his heads. 'I thought... I thought I lost you...'
'Oh Cloud! Don't be silly. How could you lose me? Am I a spare gil?'
'But I saw the sword... I saw your wound...' He found that he was reaching for her but she wasn't close enough. He felt drunk.
'Do you want to be with me, darling?' How could eyes look so innocent and so alluring at the same time? There was something more than mischief there and Cloud felt that his chest and his trousers were suddenly too tight. The hairs on his arms stood on end from more than the cold.
'Of course,' he choked. 'I want that more than anything.' He lurched forward but she danced backwards out of his reach, leaving him to clumsily fall in the snow.
'Then you must follow me,' she laughed. 'Don't lose me again...'
She retreated over the snow, never turning her back on him. The movement of her legs didn't seem to bear any relation to the distance she covered, she just moved them prettily from side to side as she drifted away like a feather on a pond.
'Wait!' Cloud shouted and jumped to his feet. He forgot the dead men all around him, he forgot his mission and he forgot his dead friend, not five meters away. All he could think about was that slim female shape, receding across a blank plain of white.
He plunged forward, his pulse pounding in his chest, his head and his loins. The drifts broke under his heavy boots and he had to lift his knees high to make any progress, but soon he was running, ignoring the sting of his wounds and the ache in his legs. 'Come back!' he shouted.
'Catch me!' she giggled with a trace of cruelty that was lost on its audience.
Cloud bore his teeth in determination. He wouldn't lose her again.