My oldest friend,

The night sky and white moon hang lonely, bereft and in mourning for their lunar twin. But it is gone, forever, where neither can follow. The blue sky below weeps with the white moon, but still they must endure and move on, as the Crystals intended.

You do not have to face this burden on your own. I offer you nothing, but you willingly offer. There is a small port north of the holy site where the moon was first transformed by the Light. Whisper my name to the harbor master, and I shall fly to meet you.

(unsigned, undated)

I became aware of my heartbeat, heavy and pounding against my ribs. This could not be Cain, it had to be another Dragoon trained up in Baron. While Cecil had always dreamed of bringing Cain back to breathe life back into the Dragoon ranks, it never came to fruition during his reign, but that did not mean newly crowned King Gren had not succeeded. As if in defiance to my denial, the wind picked up around us, and a trail of blonde hair streamed out from the dragoon's helmet.

"Rosa." The deep rumble of his voice confirmed it.

"By the Crystals, why are you here?" I said, my hands moving in vague gesture to indicate the whole scene — the ship, the small crater behind me, my chocobo awkwardly gaining its feet. "Why are you with Baron? Are you…" and I hesitated on the question, unsure now if I actually wanted an answer. I thought of his letter and inwardly groaned, had this been a set up? Or did my suspicious heart grasp at a reason not to trust him? I did not finish the question, letting it hang awkwardly between us, and tried to see his eyes through the slits of his helm. I saw nothing there, nor in the firm set of his exposed jaw and mouth.

"I knew the Red Wings were moving on you and came along. I will explain more, later, but you must run." In a flash, he had his spear unsheathed and in his hands. He shifted his weight and settled into a stance, his spear held in both hands but pointing toward me, "Go quickly north, but stay in the forest. I will track and find you tonight." Then, incredibly, the smallest hint of a grin curved his mouth upward, seen through the exposed jaw of his helm. "But first, we must fight a bit. For show, I mean, they watch above. Counter me with a Hold and then ride like the wind."

"But Cain—" I started. He could not possibly mean to fight me. As boys and soldiers, Cain and Cecil had often sparred, but I had never participated. While I did practice my archery and magic, it was at a distance, always with the space of safety. But he was right, they did watch — the red ship maintained its position, low enough to watch the scene play out.

"No. There is no time. I will strike and you must stop me." His spear glinted in the sun as he swung it forward, his armor audibly clinking as he suddenly lunged forward.

Instinct twitched in my muscles, my hands moving together and the incantation already shaping my mouth into a soft chant. One by one, I tugged threads of power free from the web of magic all around us and weaved them together into a new spell. It all happened in the space of a breath, as Cain drew closer. With a shout, I pushed the spell outward, guiding it forward to settle on Cain. Through the magic, I felt his muscles freeze, and with another shout, I poured more power into it, feeding more threads into the fabric of the spell. I gave it my shock of finally seeing a friend again; I gave it my outrage of those circumstances; I gave it my despair of running, always running.

I heard Cain gasp as the paralysis crept closer to his lungs, making it harder to breathe. I relaxed the spell and I heard him taking greedy gulps of air. I would apologize to him, later. Now, it was time to run.

I turned, to find my chocobo, to find Galen, to find a way around the hole in the ground, to —

I saw Galen, then, behind Cain. He moved quiet but sure, his light footsteps barely making an impact as he hurried toward us, a large rock held aloft in both hands. He came closer, and I realized his intent, his young face twisted in pure hatred and eyes fixed squarely on Cain.

"NO!" I tried to yell but it came out as a wailing shriek. I heard Cain grunt and Galen came to a sudden stop, only a pace or two behind Cain.

"But Penny," Galen started, but at least he lowered the rock, "He was going to—"

"No! Don't touch him!" The force of my voice caught him off guard, and in his surprise, he dropped the rock. The anger on his face was gone, giving away first to confusion and then open hurt. A little more gently, I said, "We need to go. Now, run."

I looked to Cain, mouthed the words, 'I'm sorry' and took off in a run.

With the Crystals' blessing on our side, we found Galen's bird quickly and were gone into the forest well before the Bloodletter finally touched to ground. We followed the established trail for a while, favoring speed over stealth. The dark hanging canopy made it hard to see the sky, but an estimate of the sun's position placed the day in the early evening.

I reigned in my chocobo, coming to a stop. Galen stopped less quickly, going past me, and then circled back around, "We need to leave the chocobos." I said, dismounting the bird. I unfastened one of the side bags, slinging the meager supplies over my shoulder. I looked up to meet Galen's worried eyes.

"He was going to kill you."

"No," I said with a sigh. I whistled to my chocobo, a high keening whistle. The bird, loyal and patient for this long journey, suddenly perked up at the signal. With a sudden wark, it took off, back the way we came, back the long journey to Mysidia, speaking nothing of its adventure. "Come on, we'll walk and talk. But first, get down." He obeyed, sliding down from his mount's back. I unfastened another bag from the saddle, handed it roughly to Galen, and whistled again. The chocobo, too, took off in a race to catch up to its companion.

We went off the road, there, ducking under branches and low hanging limbs of the too dense forest. As we ventured further, the light overhead dimmed, unable to pierce through the thick foliage. For a long while, I said nothing, with only the crunch of our boots in the brush to punctuate our walk.

"His name is Cain Highwind and I've known him since we were children. He will help us escape." I said, finally, without preamble, "I am pursued by the Red Wings forces, and he is playacting as their agent."

"Is he…" Galen started, but hesitated on the question, seemed to make a decision, and continued, "Is he your friend?"

Ah. Of course. I took a slow, deep breath, gathering resolve to me as I might pull in magic for a spell, "He is. Cain was very close to my husband." I waited for the words to settle, then plunged forward into a sort of confessional, "He died. My husband, I mean, he died, not long ago. Baron thinks I killed him, and so they hunt me." It was the most I had spoken of Cecil, even to the Elder, since the incident. I didn't realize there were tears standing in my eyes until I blinked hard, and they rolled down my cheeks. Flustered, I wiped my face with the back of my hand and tried to sniff discreetly.

Galen stopped, then, turning to look directly at me, his eyes trying to read my face. There, I saw it, as pity blossomed in his eyes, "Oh, Penny, I am so sorry…" he reached for me then, to take my hand, or something else, I don't know, but I jerked back, stumbling awkwardly backward.

I hated it. I hated the pity, the sadness reflected on everyone's faces. I hated having my grief on display, like a novelty to be puzzled over, "No, it's fine. I'm fine. Let's just keep going." I said lamely, and then without waiting for a reply, moved past him, and continued onward.

I didn't need to look at Galen to know his hurt expression. It was the same one on Cain's, years prior, when I told him I wouldn't be with him, ever, even if Cecil did die climbing the Tower of Babil to save me.

He didn't follow right away, but then eventually, I heard his steps resume behind me.

We moved on.

We didn't stop moving until darkness crept over the land and it was no longer safe to keep pressing forward. Not even the moon's light penetrated through the dark of the forest, so it was impossible to tell which direction we were going.

We lit no fire, out of fear of being spotted, only took turns sleeping fitfully on the ground with Galen's cloak (mine, lost prior) while the other sat, back to a tree, ears tuned to either the stomp of military boots or the shambling steps of the undead. After two hours, we swapped. And so, the night passed, steeped in a dreamless anxiety where no true rest can be found.

I was on watch when dawn broke the horizon in slow, creeping gray fingers. Bleary-eyed, I met the sun, and I didn't know whether to dread its coming or welcome it. Galen slept, somehow finding an inch of true sleep, and did not wake yet.

To Cain's credit, I saw him before I heard him, in a flash of blue moving between the brown and green of the forest. He moved near silently, almost crouching. Blinking away the sleep from my eyes, I started to stand, but he held up one hand, then brought a finger to his mouth in a silent "shhh" gesture, then pointing at Galen.

"Don't wake him yet. I need to speak to you privately." He whispered so low; I almost didn't hear him. Stretching out my stiff legs, I awkwardly came to a stand, then followed Cain. We didn't go far, just past a few trees, enough to be out of Galen's immediate earshot.

"What's going on?" I asked, still whispering, looking anxiously back at Galen's sleeping form.

"We need to leave, now, without the boy." Cain said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world, as if I hadn't been thinking the exact same thing since our flight from the Red Wings.

"I can't leave him, Cain. Baron will tear him apart if they find him,"

"Rosa, please. What does he know? Did you tell him anything? Did you…" the word confess hungunasked between us, thick and heavy with accusation. Mercifully, Cain did not finish.

Pain blossomed in my heart, deep and aching, thick with bile. I closed my eyes tightly against it, "No." The word was little more than a exhale, then, more strongly: "He knows nothing. Only that Baron chases me, which he only learned this morning. He will be genuinely shocked when he learns who I am, perhaps convincingly enough." I took a step back, a braced a hand on a tree next to me, for support.

"We need to leave him behind." Cain closed the distance with two steps toward me, his voice dropping further, but more hurried, "I only have two tickets for the boat in Dragonwing. And I do not have the coin to buy the silence of another passage."

"Cain," I pleaded, "Do not make me do this. It is cruel." A weariness like no other settled over me, seeping into my muscles, making my limbs suddenly heavy. It wasn't just being tired, it was feeling helpless, and worse, hopeless, "He helped me. He has been a friend when I had no one."

"Rosa," I heard the hurt plain in his voice. Then, he shook his head slowly, "You must." I felt his resolve harden, as his voice grew firmer, his shoulders squared up and his chin came up, "There are no good choices to make here, only the hard ones if you want to avoid swinging from the noose."

I hated him, in the space of that moment, as I had a few times in our intertwined lives. I hated the imagery he conjured up, of my legs dangling free in the air, muscles gradually slackening as the breath left my body. I wondered if they'd let me wear shoes or if I'd have to go barefoot.

I shook my head, trying to chase the image from my inevitable nightmares. Mostly, though, I hated Cain because he was right, "Let's go." And then I just hated myself. With an anxious silence, he led, and I followed, stepping lightly through the forest floor, going north and on.

My traitorous heart was relieved to finally have someone to follow.

I think back often on this moment, through my years. I wonder if things might have turned out differently if I hadn't left Galen behind, or if the Crystals truly had a hand in orchestrating how the events unfolded. Despite witnessing fate play out before me, firsthand, I couldn't help but think that it was an excuse to absolve me of my guilt. If I genuinely believed that this was meant to happen, it was easier to swallow my casual cruelty of a boy whose only crime was loving me.