Things came back in pieces.

The fact that he had a body was one shard of reality that returned quickly. The fact that the body hurt was another. Then followed the realization that this meant he was alive, at least. He was battered, living, breathing, aching. Not dead. He lay sprawled across rough stone; his wing was pinned beneath him. He supposed it felt uncomfortable, but then, everything about him felt uncomfortable at the moment. His feathers felt uncomfortable.

The stone was silent. The wind wasn't. It whistled through the gorge, increasing the throb in his head when his ears finally caught the sound and refused to let go. The whistling mixed with his heartbeat, pounding, and he groaned, shifting a little for the first time since he had awakened.

The top of his head touched something solid, softer and warmer than rock. At first, he was puzzled as to what that could be. Then –

--Blue dress, dark hair, old bridge, family, empty air, weak wings, fail to protect, hard stone—

He remembered.

"Tee—kaaaah," Cloud croaked, lifting his feathered head and opening bleary eyes at last.

The little girl didn't move. Her face was turned away from him. Cloud struggled for a long moment, painstakingly turning onto his belly and getting his claws under himself. One scaly leg was hurt, skinned a little in the fall, as was the wing on the same side. They burned, and his entire head ached, but he ignored them as much as he possibly could. Staggering, Cloud regained his feet and began to limp, wiggle, and hop his way around to Tifa's other side.

"Tika?"

Her hair covered her face, but bits of it were moving a little around the area of her mouth and nose. She was breathing, at least, but Cloud could smell blood, and that scared him. He bent down, ignoring a wave of pain through his skull, and moved some of the hair away with his beak, nudging her forehead from time to time.

"Tika? Get up," he pleaded. "We…we still gotta find mama, 'member? Get up."

She didn't move except to take slow, rasping breaths. Her face was tense, like she was in pain.

The wind whistled, and on it, Cloud thought he heard human words, human voices.

He paid it no attention, but continued to move hair away from his best friend's face and nudge her from time to time – on the shoulder, the forehead, the temple – calling her name cautiously. She didn't respond.

Cloud's head ached, and the world was wavering again. Perhaps he had been hit harder than he thought…

"Tika, I…'m sorry."

The chocobo crouched down at Tifa's side, hunching over and shoving the top of his head under her chin. He closed his eyes and let his head throb in darkness. He would just rest a little while, and then he would get up – they'd both get up – and they'd go on. But for now, just rest.

The last thing Cloud was aware of was loud human voices – too loud – and an unsettling feeling of being lifted upward before all awareness fled at last.


A giant's roar woke Cloud. It startled him; he scrambled to his feet before he was fully conscious, blinking and wondering why he couldn't see anything properly. Then his vision slowly lightened, just enough for him to realize that he was in a dark, unfamiliar room, and that someone had placed him inside an open-topped box.

The roar returned. Cloud jumped and squeaked a little before he realized that it was a voice – Mr. Lockhart's voice – and that it was coming from outside. His words, however, were muffled by distance and probably by the walls and a closed door. Cloud had little doubt that whatever he was yelling, it was about Tifa. With a burning need to find out just what had happened to his best friend fueling him, Cloud began to scramble up the wooden, slatted side of the box, flapping his still-sore wings to help fight gravity. His small claws found purchase in the wood easily, and soon enough the little golden chocobo was perched on the edge of the box, looking around a small kitchen which was not the Lockhart one.

His head swiveled about; there, a glass window set in the wall above the sink. The voices were reaching him through that. If he got close enough, perhaps he could hear words.

Cloud fluttered to the ground from the top of the box and eyed the distance upward to the window. He wasn't sure if he could make it; he had barely started to flutter-hop, nevermind actually fly. In addition, the kitchen didn't allow much room for a running start.

"I have to try," he said aloud, squinting hard at the window. Somehow, actually saying the words made them more real. The chocobo backed up until his tail feathers hit the opposite wall, ground his feet firmly into the floorboards, and cocked his wings in preparation. With a rising grunt, he charged, wings flapping wildly before he was halfway across the floor, before he'd gotten very much speed up, and he wasn't going to make it…

"Uuuh!"

Cloud's chest hit the rim of the sink. He started to fall backwards. In desperation, he swung his head forward and down, and the hook of his beak barely caught the inside edge of the sink. Kicking out with his feet, he drove himself upward to perch on the rim, shaking in a combination of elation and delayed fear. If a chocobo's beak could grin, Cloud's would have.

"…Not having it anywhere near her!"

Cloud's head whipped to the side, remembering the loud tones that had drawn him there. Mr. Lockhart wasn't shouting so loudly any more, but his words were now audible at least. Cloud hopped across the sink and peered through the window.

There, on the lawn, stood the owner of the loud voice and the owner of the next-door house, Mr. Johnson, the chocobo handler who had proclaimed Cloud a midget. The former stood rigidly, like the other next-door's dog when it caught sight of Cloud but couldn't move beyond the furthest extent of its leash. Mr. Johnson was a more wary kind of rigid, but he was standing his ground. It looked very much as though they were arguing, and Cloud wondered what it was about. He quickly got his answer.

"I don't see how it was the bird's fault, sir. I know that you're upset, but is this really necessary?"

"Yes. That thing was supposed to be tame, but lately it's been acting more and more wild. If it goes haring off into the mountains again, I don't want Tifa following it! Look what happened this time – maybe next time she'll get a broken neck instead of a concussion! I don't care what you do, just as long as we never have to see it again."

Mr. Johnson sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"All right, then. Your choice. I guess I could get hold of one of my contacts – maybe Bill – and see about having him taken in there. It won't be easy, though. He's a rare gold, yeah, but his growth has been hampered somehow – he's more like a six-month chocobo than a three-year one. Not many people would be interested in taking him."

"I don't care," Mr. Lockhart repeated, folding his arms stubbornly. "Do whatever you have to. I just want it gone by the end of this week."

Cloud didn't want to hear any more. He backed away from the window and fell into the sink. There was something empty in his middle. It hurt and echoed with his heartbeat, which sounded very far away. It wasn't hot, like hate-fire, nor was it cold, like grief. It was just…there and nothing.

But Tifa was all right. At least, she was alive. Cloud didn't know what a concussion was, but from Mr. Lockhart's words, it was better than a broken neck, and that would've been dead.

Try as he might, however, Cloud couldn't get much comfort from the thought. He couldn't because he was being sent away, and he wasn't a complete fool – he knew Tifa needed him on some level. Mrs. Perry said so. His private grief in the graveyard had been utterly selfish, he saw that now – too late, stupid – and he had to find a way to fix everything that had gotten broken because he hadn't been smart enough or strong enough to be an anchor for his friend. Not smart enough or strong enough to face reality and help her to do the same. Mrs. Lockhart was gone; nothing could be done about it. Now he, Cloud, was also about to be gone…though he had to wonder if there was a way to prevent it this time. There had to be.

First, though, he thought, the hole inside of him closing up with purpose, he needed some wisdom. He felt he was headed in the right direction this time by actually doing something about his problem, but he'd already muddled up quite enough by himself, and a little outside advice would be a nice thing to have.

He had to get out. He had to go and visit the one person, aside from Tifa, who understood him.

Cloud stood up in the empty sink and stared calculatingly at the window, noting the shape of the latch and thinking it an easy one to undo. Sure enough, once he got his beak on it he barely had to jostle the thing before it clicked open.

The yard was clear. Apparently, the two men had finished their conversation and gone elsewhere while Cloud sorted through his mind and emotions. That suited him just fine; nobody was around to notice the little chocobo push the window outward and flutter to the ground.

Now that he was outside, things seemed a little less certain, far more open to chance and happenstance. Anything could go wrong. Cloud glanced around and he happened to catch sight of Tifa's bedroom window, far above him. He knew it was hers because he recognized the curtains behind the glass. They were closed, just like Mrs. Lockhart's had been. Just like he was about to be closed out of her life.

Purpose reaffirmed, Cloud trotted off through town in the late afternoon light.


"Missus Perry?"

Cloud stuck his beak in the door, then the rest of his head. The house was dim and quiet.

"Missus Perry? It's me. Cloud. Can I come in?"

For a while, there was no reply. Then, with a quiet creaking of old hinges, a door far down the long, straight entry hall opened, and the old woman shuffled into view, leaning heavily on a cane. She blinked down at Cloud from behind her thick glasses as though surprised.

"Cloud? Yes, yes, come in. How on earth did you open that, dear?"

Cloud squeezed through the gap and shut the door with his foot.

"Jumped. Lots of flapping. Sorry, Missus, but…I need to talk with you. Please?"

"I rather think you do. I've never heard you say quite so much before. What's wrong? How is Tifa?"

As she spoke, Mrs. Perry made her way down the hall and into the familiar, cozy-cluttered sitting room. Cloud followed her, making sure to match her slow pace.

"Mr. Lockhart said con-ca-shun. I don't know."

"Poor child. I must say I'm surprised you aren't waiting at her side, though. This must be important."

Mrs. Perry settled herself at last in her usual chair and spread the thick blanket over her lap. She patted it, and Cloud jumped up without hesitation.

"Now, go on. Tell me everything."

And Cloud did. It was haphazard and jumbled, without clear order – the first thing out of his beak was a summary of the conversation he had overheard, followed by an expression of his guilt over the selfish grief he had experienced after Mrs. Lockhart's death, followed by the trip into the mountains that had ended in their fall. Everything Cloud had bottled up came pouring out, leaving the chocobo feeling both relieved and oddly bare, as though he had just plucked out his wingfeathers and stood helplessly in the middle of open ground, unable to fly or run. Mrs. Perry, for her part, was a good listener. She rarely asked questions, trusting Cloud to finish his tale and explain everything in it himself, and prompted him whenever he began to run out of steam or struggled to find the words he needed.

"…and when I woke up, I heard them talking, and I don't want to be sent away! I've gotta do something, but I dunno what. I need to thix this. What do I do?"

Mrs. Perry stroked the feathers across Cloud's back thoughtfully. He was grateful for the contact; it calmed him, made him feel both protected and a little more in control of himself.

"What a pickle," Mrs. Perry murmured quietly. "Honestly, that man. He always was an emotional child. The problem is that he has the tenacity of a bulldog. Once he grabs hold of something, he won't let go."

"So, is there…anything I can do? At all? Maybe ith I talked to them…?"

"You could try, Cloud, but I'm not sure even that would work. The shock value is tremendous, and after today's events, a surprise like that could send him too far over the edge. Tell me, what were his exact words concerning this decision? Can you remember?"

"I think so. He said something like I have to be gone this week, and he didn't care where. And…um…I think, 'I don't want it anywhere near Tifa' or something."

"Pig-headed brute."

"I shouldn't talk to him now, huh?"

"No, it probably is not the best idea. Panicked dogs tend to bite. Tell you what: I'll see about talking to him for you tomorrow. All right?"

Cloud knew it wasn't likely to work, and he knew that Mrs. Perry knew it, too. All the same, it was very kind of her to make an attempt, and he felt his flagging spirits lift somewhat.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, "thank you very much."

"Not a problem, dear. You can stay the night here with me. I'm not worried about a 'wild animal' such as you."

She tapped him on the beak playfully. Cloud snickered. Already, he felt much better about everything. Maybe he realized deep inside that nothing could derail Mr. Lockhart in his quest for a scapegoat, and nothing could prevent his leaving Nibelheim, but here in the cozy sitting room with Mrs. Perry, all of his worries lifted from his mind momentarily. He had plenty of time to think up another solution, after all.

And so that night, for the first time in many, Cloud slept peacefully.


The next morning Mrs. Perry got up early, clothed herself in a faded blue dress with bits of lace sewn around the cuffs and collar, and managed to march out of her house while leaning on her cane. Cloud watched her go from the wide window in the living room, and he watched her return barely half an hour later, still marching though it was with a far more jerking gait. He didn't need to hear her apology upon entering the room again to know that her argument had failed.

"He's as set as the stones at the base of Mt. Nibel," she complained, removing her blue-ribboned straw hat and hanging it on the coat tree just beside the doorway. "Wouldn't even consider the idea of me taking you in – thinks that anywhere in town is too close. Stubborn, idiot boy."

"It's okay," Cloud said, "really. Thanks for trying at least."

"No, it's not okay," Mrs. Perry replied. Cloud was taken aback; he had considered the woman lively before with her quick chatter and bright eyes, but compared to this fervor, she might as well have been half-dead. It was like a sleepy motherhen roused by danger near her nest – naught to fighting in moments, a complete transformation.

"He never made a direct threat against you, but he implied, and oh…"

Mrs. Perry thumped her cane hard against the floor, glared at the fireplace for a moment, then turned around and shuffled across the hallway to the kitchen, muttering something about a cup of tea. Cloud followed, having nowhere else to be and nothing else to do.

Mrs. Perry set a tea kettle on the stove, turned on the heat, and dug a tin from the cupboard.

"Cookie?"

Cloud could smell the treats as she pried the tin open. His mouth started to water.

"Yes, please."

"Up here, then," Mrs. Perry said, patting the counter. Cloud backed up, got his running start, and managed to flutter high enough to get his toes on the countertop. The surface was slick but he kept his balance, and received a round butter cookie as a reward. Cloud broke a chunk off and held it in one claw, digging his beak into the soft, crumbly treat with gusto. The water in the tea kettle was starting to boil; soon it would whistle with steam.

"So. We need to decide what to do now."

"Mm."

"One option, I suppose, would be if you stayed with me anyhow. The problem is that you'd have to stay out of Lockhart's sight at all times; if he caught so much as a glimpse of you…"

Cloud thought through what that meant. It meant no seeing Tifa, at least not openly, and not often. It meant he couldn't go outside much, if at all. Mrs. Perry was nice, and her house was a cozy sort of place to come and visit somebody in, but he couldn't imagine living here day after day. Soon enough, it would become a prison rather than a home.

"I think I'd go crazy," Cloud said slowly, nibbling now on the cookie chunk he held. "I like you, and it's nice here, but…"

"You need the outdoors, don't you?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"That's fine, Cloud. Don't apologize for who you are. Now, another alternative might be turning you loose to live on your own in the mountains. I'm not too sure I like that option. It's like an exile combined with a death sentence. Whatever he says, you're not a wild chocobo any more."

"I know how to find food," Cloud said, thinking it through. "I could live in a little cave up there – there's lots of them. Winter won't be too bad if I go deep enough and put leaves and stuff in there…"

"Monsters."

"Oh…right."

Cloud looked down at himself; he was perhaps two and a half to three feet tall, with still-developing wings and talons. He might be able to outrun some of the creatures that inhabited the mountains, but he definitely couldn't outfly the winged sorts, nor could he reasonably expect to fight any but the very smallest, weakest ones off. The first fast, decently-sized, hungry monster that he crossed paths with would make a lunch of him.

"That, and in terms of development, I'd say you're perhaps an eight, nine-year-old boy. Technically you might be able to take care of yourself, but I wouldn't want to test that out just yet. Not unless we have no other solutions."

The tea kettle whistled shrilly. Mrs. Perry moved it from the heat and started to prepare the drink itself. Cloud broke another chunk from his cookie – now a little over half gone – and nibbled at the edges contemplatively. Try as he might, he could see no other options but one.

"Maybe I should just go," he muttered. Saying the thought aloud was scary. It made it feel final, and Cloud had to remind himself firmly that it was only an option, not a promise.

"Say what?" Mrs. Perry asked, half-turning from her flower-patterned teapot and the knitted tea cozy she had been shoving over it. "Just go, just like that?"

"What else can I do?"

"Honey, you shouldn't give in and just let them take you…"

"It's not giving in, and they aren't taking me. Not if I choose to go."

Mrs. Perry looked at Cloud in surprise for a long moment. She blinked, then she opened her mouth and laughed loudly.

"Clever, Cloud! No, I suppose that if you go of your own will it's entirely different from being forced. Are you sure this would be what you want, though? Remember, humans tend to treat chocobos like possessions. We're not really used to the idea of a chocobo who can think intelligently."

"Sure? Not really," Cloud replied quietly, studying the cookie in his claws. "Dunno what's out there, or where I'd be going. Just rather walk out than get thrown out. 'Cause if I leave, maybe I can come back."

"I could get information," Mrs. Perry said seriously, leaning against the counter beside Cloud. "My grandson-in-law would be the one making arrangements anyhow. Perhaps I could persuade him to take us out to the place you choose."

"Yeah…wait, us?"

"I'd want to see you off, of course. Besides, it's been too long since I was out of town – some different air would be good for these old lungs, and I've no intention of simply rotting here straight through the next ten years!"

Cloud giggled softly, but his mind was more focused on the vague possibility of leaving – the possibility that seemed to be becoming more and more reality. He ducked his head and finished off the cookie chunk in his claw, thinking hard. What he had before him was not an easy choice – some might say it wasn't a choice at all, since he was forced to it by circumstance and by an overprotective father who also happened to be the mayor of the town – and he needed to consider it carefully.

Stay here, with Mrs. Perry. The upside was that he would be cared for, sheltered from danger, and he could see Tifa now and again. The downside would be constant danger of discovery, which meant that he'd be trapped inside the house, probably in a back room in case someone came over on a visit. On top of that, Mrs. Perry's home was small; what would happen if he finally reached full size?

Strike out on his own in the mountains. He knew what greens to eat, he was familiar with the wilderness. His feathers gave him a layer of protection against cold air that humans lacked, and there would be plenty of room to run and fly and grow in. Unfortunately, all of that was moot if a monster ate him the second day out there. In addition, he wasn't sure he was really ready to forgo the reliable shelters and care that human hands could provide.

Leave voluntarily to a place outside Nibelheim. Cloud had no idea what to expect except that it would probably involve other humans and possibly other chocobos. In all likelihood he would be safe from monsters, but he could also wind up trapped and far away from Tifa and the only homes he knew. He needed that information to be sure.

"Could you? Talk to Mr. Johnson, I mean. About the outside-places. I want to know…just in case."

Mrs. Perry got up and checked her teapot. Apparently satisfied, she poured two cups of tea and passed one over to Cloud with a smile.

"Of course, dear."

Cloud scrunched his cheeks into his eyes in the biggest returning smile he could make and dunked the remains of his cookie into the steaming tea.

Maybe, with a little luck, they could find a way to make this work.


Mrs. Perry called her grandson-in-law over the next day and sat him down to talk over the options he thought the little chocobo might have. Cloud crouched quietly beside her armchair as the young man spoke, listening but not openly reacting to what he heard.

"Well, there's the general stables at Midgar. They're pretty expansive and are always looking for new chocobos. I wouldn't want to send him there right off, though – the size and bustle of the city could literally scare him to death. It doesn't happen often, but I've heard of a few incidents where they transfer a chocobo directly from the country to the city…"

"Hmm. I've not heard much about Midgar that wasn't all diamond-polished and steel-strong. I don't trust the rumors about how wonderful it is. What's another option?"

"Chocobo Bill is always a good one. He's more a trader, a transfer point between different locations, but he takes good care of his birds and he does his best to send them to good places. I think he'd be excited to get a gold, though Cloud's stunted growth could put him off a little. He's my first choice, really."

"Any more?"

"Dio at the Gold Saucer might be interested if I could sell him on the idea of tourist attraction or something like that. Some gimmick like a little gold chocobo to represent his park. He doesn't treat his birds badly either, and the crowds at the park won't be nearly as awful as Midgar's. Then there's Sam in Junon and maybe, maybe Kurt in Costa del Sol."

"And what about them?" Mrs. Perry prompted, never taking her eyes from the wooly stocking cap she was knitting. For his part, Mr. Johnson had taken up a staring contest with his reflection in the cup of coffee he was nursing.

"Sam and Kurt? Well, Sam's more a small-time dealer, and he's more into breeding the chocobos. Cloud here'll probably never reach that physical maturity – I'm frankly amazed he's continued to grow at all, slow as it's been."

"Don't expect he'd be interested anyhow," Mrs. Perry muttered quietly, looping blue yarn deftly around her silvery needles.

"As for Kurt…he deals in racers exclusively, and I think he's a little too driven by profit to take Cloud in like that. I could probably call in a favor from a few years ago, but that's stretching things a bit."

"Hmm. Midgar, the chocobo farm, Gold Saucer, Junon and Costa del Sol. Is that all of them?"

"All I could possibly contact on such short notice," Mr. Johnson said, sounding a little frazzled. "I'm not sure how the mayor really expects me to find a new home for the little guy in just a week. Tried arguing it with him, but he won't budge. I'll just have to hope that I get a yes from one of them in the next few days."

"Sometimes he can be a great bully," Mrs. Perry said boldly, "though I will grant that he honestly believes he's doing his little girl a good turn. It's a misguided idea, but he's not a truly bad man at the core."

"No, probably not." Mr. Johnson took a gulp of coffee and a puzzled frown spread across his face. "Just wondering, but why the interest?"

"Because I quite like Cloud and I want something good for him," Mrs. Perry replied frankly. Cloud felt an awkward smile rise in his eyes and face, the sort of conflicting expression which few would be able to read in him.

"You do realize that if only one person gives me an okay, there won't be much choice involved. I've done the best I can just contacting these guys," Mr. Johnson warned.

"I'm sure. Now, if you could tell me a little about this 'Dio,' I'd greatly appreciate it…"

And so it went on through the next hour and a half. Soon enough, Cloud began to feel that there was so much new information being stuffed into his head that it would start leaking out of his eyes and earholes if it didn't stop. He learned that Costa del Sol was the closest to Nibelheim and the Chocobo Farm furthest away. He learned that while the Midgar and Gold Saucer stables were mostly managed by an assortment of people paid to care for the chocobos, Bill, Sam, and Kurt each saw to their own with only a little help – which meant fewer people to deal with and probably better attention from those people. He learned that Sam was careless with the chocobo feed, Bill was careless with latching the stalls, and Kurt was careless with his drink (he'd have to ask Mrs. Perry what that meant, though he guessed it was a bad thing from her reaction). He learned that while none of them purposefully mistreated the chocobos under their care, all of them would certainly regard him as a dumb beast rather than a person, just as Mrs. Perry had warned him.

He learned that the world was so, so much bigger than anything he might have imagined.

At long last, Mr. Johnson finally left. Mrs. Perry and Cloud stood together at the window, watching him go.

"Don't make a decision right now, Cloud," Mrs. Perry told him without turning. "Not unless you know for certain that it is what you need to do. You can wait a day or two, think it over a little more. Whatever you pick, even if it's to go out alone into the mountains, I promise I won't condemn or dissuade you. You just make sure it's right."

"Okay," the chocobo said, his eyes fixed on the blue sky outside and the jagged, close-set horizon made by the mountain peaks, wondering vaguely what the sky might look like if it met grass or water instead and finding himself quite unable to imagine such a sight.

Mrs. Perry checked the time.

"Well, I'm off for a nap now. I'll leave you a slice of bread on the counter if you get hungry. We can talk about this some more over supper if you need to."

She patted Cloud softly on the head and hobbled off, first to the kitchen, and then down the long hallway to her bedroom. Cloud settled down in the cushions of the window seat he was perched on and stared blindly out through the window, thinking hard.

Just a couple of hours later, when Mrs. Perry arose again, she found a far more resolute Cloud sitting there, frozen as though he had never moved, though the bread in the kitchen was gone.

The golden chocobo turned his head to face her, and she saw firm surety in his bright blue eyes. Mrs. Perry nodded, folding her hands across the top of her cane.

"You've decided," she said.

"Bill's tharm," he replied, "I think Bill's tharm would be best."

"I'm glad."

Cloud looked a little surprised.

"It's…such a long way. I thought you'd argue a bit."

"I did say that I wouldn't try to dissuade you if you knew where to go. Don't worry, Cloud – I know you know, and I'll help you make this work. That's a promise."

"Thank you."

"It's not a problem, Cloud. Not a problem at all."


As it turned out, Bill was the first of Mr. Johnson's contacts to reply. He was perfectly willing to take in the 'miniature chocobo,' and so it was just two days later that a truck came out to Nibelheim to pick up the passengers: both of the Johnsons, Mrs. Perry, and Cloud himself. Some of the townspeople lined the dusty center of Nibelheim near the water tower to see them off, all of them with the clear understanding that while this was something like a rare vacation for Mrs. Perry, who had been with them for so long, and for the Johnsons, who were good neighbors despite coming from outside of town, the little chocobo with them would not be coming back. And if he was not coming back, then he was, for all intents and purposes, dead to them the moment the truck rumbled out of sight down the mountainside.

Despite knowing and understanding this mindset, Cloud felt far too physically miserable to be depressed by anything as Nibelheim vanished from view. The truck bounced over some ruts in the road; the chocobo in the back clamped his beak shut and tried not to moan.

It was the first three minutes of a five-day journey by truck and ship, and Cloud had just discovered that he was prone to motion sickness.


Truck from Nibelheim to Costa del Sol: two days of abject misery during which Cloud hardly dared open his beak for fear of heaving up anything in his stomach. Ship from Costa del Sol to Junon: one day in a dark, funny-smelling hold which moved and rocked worse than the truck ever had; this time, Cloud did lose his lunch. Truck from Junon to the Chocobo Farm: two more days of misery which, when compared to the boat, were almost blissful. At least Cloud managed to keep down what little he dared to eat that time.

When Cloud finally hopped down from the truck bed for the last time, he swore that he would learn to fly properly, and he would gain the strength and stamina to do it across the ocean if need be, because he was not going through another ordeal such as that one. Still feeling ill and a little woozy, Cloud staggered after the Johnsons to meet a short, rotund, grey-haired man wearing coveralls and a big smile.

"Good to see you again, Nathan! I see you brought half the family with you, though…what's the occasion?"

Mr. Johnson clasped hands with Bill, nodding in a friendly manner.

"Nothing much, I just came to see the chocobo here safely, and Samantha came to keep an eye on Grandma Perry."

Bill swept his hat from his head in an exaggerated manner and winked cheerfully at the two women.

"Charmed," he said, replacing the hat after his bow and adjusting it with a quick tug. "I can have my grandchildren, Billy and Chloe, show you around the chocobo pens if you've got time or the inclination. In the meantime, could I see this bird you're having me take in?"

Cloud trotted forward dutifully, getting his legs back to the point where they worked properly over solid ground. He stopped in front of the very large man and looked up into an intelligent, good-natured face.

"Well, bless me," the man whispered in near-reverence, crouching down and reaching out to poke Cloud in the side. Cloud figured Bill wanted his wings spread, so he did so, feeling a bit nervous. "Sure enough, the primaries're shaped for flight, and the span's about right. A natural golden chocobo. Nathan, you surprise me! I honestly thought you were either pulling my leg or you'd mistaken a wonderful yellow…by Bahamut, he's amazing!"

Cloud folded his wings, feeling a little self-conscious. He refused the temptation to go hide behind Mrs. Perry, though; soon enough, he wouldn't have her to hide behind, and he was determined to start out this new part of his life as strongly as possible.

"So you'll take care of him?" Mr. Johnson was asking. Bill stood up, grinning like a kid with a whole jar of candy.

"'Course I will! Small or not, a gold on my farm…most people spend years breeding the birds and never get so lucky, and he just appears out of nature's own cradle in the middle of nowhere…sometimes I swear the planet's laughing at us!"

"Could be, old friend," Mr. Johnson said, then he checked his watch and looked back at the truck idling in the yard. The driver was waiting inside the cab. "I'll help you get him settled, and then we're going back."

"Sounds like a plan. Nathan, I owe you big. Bragging rights alone…"

"Ahem."

Chocobo Bill and Mr. Johnson both stopped and looked over their shoulder. Mrs. Perry was standing with both hands folded politely atop her cane and looking pointedly at Bill.

"I wonder," she said slowly, "if, perhaps, while our grandchildren show Cloud his new home, I might have a short word with you?"

"Oh, well, yes, of course," Bill replied confusedly. "Right this way, please. Nathan, my grandkids should be in the stables, so if you just head right on over there with…Cloud, was it? I'll be with you right quick."

Cloud watched them go into the small house nearby. His stomach was fluttering, and he rather wished he could go along just to hear what was being said; he had a slight suspicion that Mrs. Perry was going to tell Bill something important, something about Cloud, and as nice as it might be to be able to trust someone here, the chocobo was too used to hiding everything he was to simply stop doing so. Unfortunately, he had little choice at the moment; Mr. and Mrs. Johnson were heading to the white building with the roof like half a cylinder, and Cloud needed to follow them.

The inside of the stable was roomy and comfortable, large even by a full-sized chocobo's standards. For Cloud, it was almost overwhelming.

"Billy? Chloe? You in here?"

Two heads popped out of two different doorways. Both faces lit up upon seeing Cloud.

"My gosh, is that really a gold like grandpa said?"

"Aw, it's so adorable!"

Cloud blinked and reeled back slightly as the two children dashed down the length of the stable toward them. Fortunately, instead of diving upon Cloud they both stopped and each grabbed an adult's hand to drag them toward the farthest stall.

"Come on, this way!"

"Here, choco-choco! Follow us!"

"Whoah, you two are excited about this!" Mrs. Johnson exclaimed with a laugh.

Cloud ruffled his feathers at the 'choco-choco' comment and he considered stubbornly staying put. Unfortunately, neither child knew his real name, so it would be rather pointless. With a quick sigh, he followed the group of humans deeper into the stables to inspect his new 'room.'

It was large, he noted right off, standing in the doorway and shuffling his feet through the clean, dry straw. The front wall of the stall was half-open, full of gaps between the wooden slats which he could look through, and the door opened outward. In addition, he could see the metal loop for the bolt on the outside, and it appeared to be meant for a simple sliding latch set high enough on the door that Cloud could easily fly up, perch between the bars, and reach it with his beak. There was a wooden box set halfway up the front wall – probably for food – and, just inside the door, a pair of plastic food and water bowls which Cloud guessed were meant to accommodate his smaller stature.

"Look good, buddy?" the little boy asked. Cloud didn't bother answering; Billy's question had been asked in the teasing, light sort of tone one used around dumb animals and very small children. Instead, he stepped fully into the stall and took a deep breath.

His, now.

"Looks like he's getting himself settled," Mr. Johnson said. "Come on. We'll wait for grandma Perry out by the truck."

Cloud heard the door swing shut and the latch slide into place. The four humans walked away, their footsteps and conversation fading to a dim hum. Only once they were gone did he move again. Guaging the distance carefully, Cloud backed up, got his running start, and flapped until he landed between the bars on the door. Edging over carefully until he was right above the latch, he reached down and gripped the knob of the sliding bolt in his beak. It was well-oiled and moved smoothly. On top of that, the door rested on its hinges in such a way that it apparently stood open more readily than it stayed closed; the moment Cloud popped the bolt across, the door he sat upon shifted, creaking slowly ajar.

Satisfied, the chocobo fluttered back down to the floor and set to exploring his room a little more thoroughly. He hadn't even finished mashing down a small nest in the corner when he heard two slow sets of footsteps, one accompanied by the thunk of a cane, coming down the middle of the stable. In just a couple of moments, Mrs. Perry and Chocobo Bill appeared in his doorway.

"Cloud," Mrs. Perry called softly. "Came to say goodbye for now. Are you doing all right?"

Cloud hesitated. He wanted to stay strong, to avoid depending on any comfort this last moment before he was truly alone…

Mrs. Perry knelt slowly and painfully. She laid her cane beside her and held out both arms, her hands welcomingly open.

"Nothing wrong with one hug," she said.

Cloud gave in and rushed over to her. The old woman folded her arms around him briefly before setting him back down on the ground and giving his head a quick scritch.

"There's a boy. Now, you'll behave for Bill, of course. I've told him you're something special, and he believes me, so you don't need to be afraid of who you are around him. Understand?"

Cloud cast a swift, doubting glance at Chocobo Bill, who returned it with frank kindness and a quick wink.

"Oh, and one last thing," Mrs. Perry said, holding her hand up. Bill grasped it and helped her back to her feet, bending down to return her cane also. The old lady accepted it back and rummaged quickly through the sole handbag she owned and had brought along with her for the trip. Cloud watched curiously; he had no idea what she was keeping in the thing, having never seen her open it before.

"Ah, here. A going-away present. Take good care of it, Cloud."

Awkwardly, reverently, Cloud reached forward to take the small paperback book of Nibelheim fairy tales and cradle it with both wings against his chest. He and Tifa used to read similar books together all the time, and he hadn't stopped to think before now about how scarce reading material could be as a chocobo on a chocobo farm.

"Thank you," he whispered, not bothering to glance at Bill. The man had just seen Mrs. Perry hand a book over to him. At this point, talking shouldn't be a bother.

"You're welcome, dear. Do try and come back to visit once you're all grown up and strong, and you can tell us all about the world out here. All right?"

Cloud nodded fervently, then a thought occurred to him.

"Wait," he said, turning around and hurrying awkwardly over to his self-made nest of straw. He laid the book down carefully next to it, then reached down with his beak and yanked two small golden feathers from his chest. The pricks of pain that accompanied the actions were easily ignored. Cloud took both feathers up in his beak and ran back over to Mrs. Perry, who reached downward and took them carefully in her weathered hand.

"One for you," Cloud breathed, "and one for Tika. I promise, I'll come back."

"I'll get it to her," Mrs. Perry said, smiling shakily. She slipped the feathers into her handbag and snapped it closed as though it contained the greatest, most fragile treasure in the world. "Thank you, Cloud. I hope to see you again soon. Take care."

And with that, Cloud watched her go. Minutes later, he heard the truck outside roar to life, and then even that dwindled away into nothing.

"You're something else, kid," Chocobo Bill finally said, leaning against the wall of Cloud's stall and chewing on a long stem of grass. "Amazing. First golden chocobo I see since I was twelve years old, and not only is it a natural-born from the Nibel mountains but it's got a human brain to boot. Someday, I gotta ask you just what you chocobos eat up there."

The elderly rancher hefted himself from the wall and headed for the door.

"Welcome to the farm, Cloud," he said as he left, "and if you don't mind it, I'd also say welcome to the family."

He left the door open.