*That morning, the cliff-side
Zidane easily spent an hour trying to move his sore, overworked muscles. He was hungry, thirsty, and even still drowsy; but he was not about to give up. After taking a full fifteen minutes to sit up, he peered up out of his sanctuary to see how far he had to go. The mist was much thinner now, and from the glint of the new sun off the rocks, he still had a ways to go. He began to work the feeling back into his shoulders as he looked down. This sight was encouraging; he had come a long way. He had now stretched his spine out, all the way from the base of his neck to the tip of his tail, and, kicking some kinks from his stiff legs, he slowly worked his way back onto the face of the cliff. And just as slowly, he began to ascend.
Eventually, his limbs began to work and climbing became less tedious, but only slightly. However, he could feel the difference, and it was encouraging to him. It was almost as if his will could overtake and overcome physical difficulty. He no longer felt the pain; he had become quite used to it. Then…he broke through the mist. He blinked at the change in light and scenery and stopped to look around. He could see for miles around, below him he only saw the top of the strange clouds, but around him he could see numerous other mountains, some far off, some closer by. More importantly, he looked up into the sunlight, and by squinting, he could see the top of the cliff! It was still pretty far up, but he could see it! He doubled his efforts; out of some unknown reserve of strength and energy, he managed to start climbing faster. The rocks crumbled as he pulled himself over them, getting rock dust in his eyes and all over his moist skin. He began to sweat in the heat of his efforts and the glare of the sun. His throat began to parch. His arms all but refused to move and, several times, his knees buckled. But with one triumphant hoist, he brought himself off of the rocks and onto the live grass of the plateau. He dragged himself into the waves of green and collapsed.
After lying there for a moment, he lifted his head to look around. He could see the signs of water not too far off and started to get up, but then he saw, in a slightly opposing direction, the largest structure he had ever laid eyes on. That's an understatement , he thought as he looked up to its peak. He could see more flying ships coming from the distances toward the city, and he could see smaller ones circling the high center of the city itself. A massive wall surrounded the whole thing, no way am I climbing that too. He slowly got to his feet and made his way towards the spring. Civilization could wait; he was in desperate need of water. After stumbling several times along the way, he found a stream, flowing gently out from between the rocks to deposit itself in a pool. Wearily, he deposited himself in the pool. Immediately, he jumped back out, shaking the water from himself frenetically.
"Yeeeeeooooow! GOOOOD GRIEF!" he remarked as he shivered. "What is with the water around here?" Despite the freezing affect it had on his skin, the water had a soothing affect on his throat. After he had drunken his fill, he lay down in the warm sun to dry off. He snoozed in the warmth for a while, resting his limbs. Several hours later, his stomach reminded him that it wanted a turn by growling noisily. He sat up again, his body not feeling nearly as stiff this time. He peeled the bandages off of his arm, to check his wound, and was pleased to find that it looked like it was starting to heal. He bathed it again and rewrapped it. Then he got up and made his way through the wild grass toward the city, the size of which only loomed up at him as he drew closer. After about half an hour of walking, he came upon a gate. It wasn't heavily trafficked, but there were plenty of people coming and going.
"Well," he said under his breath, "here's hoping the natives are friendly." With that he walked through the gate, feeling desperately lost, but trying to look like he knew what he was doing, for pride's sake if nothing else. By and by he came through the tunnel to find two guards awaiting the entrance. They just seemed to be there, not doing anything in particular. Zidane took a breath and approached the more approachable of the two. The tall man didn't even notice him until he tugged gently at his tunic saying:
"Um, pardon me." The guard looked down, somewhat startled.
"Oh, I'm sorry…I didn't see you there," he smiled warmly at the little boy. "Can I help you, little guy?"
"I hope so," Zidane answered. "Can you, um, tell me where I am?"
"You're at the main gate, why? Are you lost?"
"Yes. The main gate of where?" The guard looked at him and blinked a couple of times.
"Lindblum…" he said, not certain if he had heard the question correctly. "I can probably help you find your way home…"
"You'd have to know where my home is," Zidane shook his head. "And I don't think you do."
"You could tell me…" the guard continued to look at him strangely. Zidane sighed and looked at the ground.
"But I don't know, where I live…or where I come from." The guard got down on his knees and looked the child in the eyes.
"Where'd you just come from?" he asked. Wow, he's really trying to help me…
"Over that cliff," Zidane watched the guard's eyes widen, as he continued. "I was in a field by a river and I got attacked by these wolf-monsters, and I saw an airship in the sky, so I followed it here."
"You climbed over the cliff?" the man obviously didn't believe it.
"It was hard, and my arms and legs really hurt from it…" Zidane explicated apologetically. The other guard was looking at him now.
"What about the fangs?" he called over.
"Pardon?"
"Your 'wolf-like' monsters."
"Oh…fangs…one of them bit me, but I'm okay." Zidane held up his left arm. The other guard was clearly surprised, but mostly skeptical.
"Well, what are your parents like? What are their names?" the first one interrupted. Zidane thought about that for a moment. That he had parents did not occur to him before. After a moment he knew why.
"I don't have parents," he answered. "I never did." The man looked very perplexed. He rubbed his temple.
"Okay…do you have a name?"
"Yes. My name is Zidane Tribal."
"A strange name if I ever heard one…" muttered the other guard.
"Hush up!" the nice guard shouted back. Zidane smiled slightly. "Hello, Zidane. My name is Edgar. My shift will be up in about fifteen minutes. If you just wait right over there, I'll see if I can help you then." Zidane smiled broadly this time and bowed slightly.
"Thank you very much, Edgar. This is very kind of you." Zidane walked over to the corner that Edgar had motioned to and sat down. As he sat there waiting, he listened to the two guards speak to each other in hushed tones. He doubted they knew he could hear them.
"You gonna call the psych ward?" the other guy asked.
"He's not crazy, he just needs a little help…maybe some food, rest, you know…" Edgar whispered back.
"Hmph. I'd beat him for telling such wild stories."
"For some reason, I don't think he's lying." The child held his breath during the moment of silence. It was strange, listening to people talk about him.
"Maybe I should commit you to the psycho ward." Eventually, two more guards came to relieve them. Edgar motioned to Zidane to follow him, which he did.
"Are you hungry, Zidane?" he asked one the little one caught up to him.
"Yes, very much so," he responded. "But you'd need some sort of monetary form to get food around here, right?"
"Um, yeah…"
"I don't have any, but I am willing to work for some."
"No, that's okay. I'd be happy to just feed you," Edgar started up the street. "Besides, you don't look like you're old enough to work."
"Oh."
"So, what really happened to your arm?" Edgar asked. Zidane looked up at him with a hurt expression.
"I told you; I got attacked by…fangs--he called them?"
"Yes. Fangs."
"Well, there were three of them; and one bit my arm; but when I kicked it in the throat, it let me go." Zidane decided not to tell him about the killing part; it did not seem like anyone would believe it.
"Well, that was smart of you--up these stairs here," he turned into a building with a set of stairs going up on the outside. "I'm sure you've done enough climbing to last a lifetime, so you can handle these." Zidane was not sure if he was mocking him or not, so he simply followed him up the stairs without a word. When they reached the third floor, Edgar stopped in front of a door. Zidane looked back at the city. "Marvelous, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it's…awesome." Edgar chuckled at that and opened the door. He waved Zidane to go in ahead of him.
"Welcome to my humble abode," he continued to chuckle. Humble is right, Zidane found himself thinking as he looked around at the cheap furnishings and quaint décor. It wasn't at all what he was expecting in this city. "Make yourself comfortable; I'm gonna go find Jen and have her take a look at your arm."
"Your wife?" Zidane asked before he could stop himself. Edgar smiled.
"Yes, she is…and she's also a volunteer nurse at the clinic," he added as he went off to find her. Zidane looked around again before he settled himself into a cushy chair. He sighed and tried to collect his thoughts, again; and again, nothing was to become of them. He looked up as he heard voices and saw Edgar lead a gorgeous young woman into the room. She smiled brightly at him.
"You must be…Zidane? Is that how you pronounce it?"
"Yes, I am, and yes, it is," he smiled back. "So, you must be Jen."
"That's right," her smile grew even bigger. "Eddie tells me that you're an orphan and you don't know where you came from."
"Yeah…I guess," he answered softly. She knelt down in front of him and opened the bag she had been holding.
"He also told me you were bitten by a fang? Would you like me to have a look?"
"Sure," he held out his arm. She took it and sat down next to him on the corner of the chair. He watched her as she carefully peeled off his old sleeve to reveal the row of scabs. She looked a little surprised, so Edgar came over to look as well. Zidane smiled to himself. Maybe they'll believe me now.
"Well, it's definitely a bite of some kind of large creature…it looks like it's healing pretty well. This might hurt but it will help." She pulled a small vial out of her bag and poured a little onto each of the marks. It did sting…a lot. Zidane grimaced and found himself tensing up, his tail swishing with irritation. Both members of the couple looked up at it, noticing it for the first time. Jen grabbed it, and Zidane recoiled.
"What is this?" she asked, rubbing the appendage of blond velvet between her delicate fingers. His body shivered from the sensation as he yanked his tail away.
"It's…my tail," he stated simply. Edgar looked embarrassed, probably because he had not noticed before. The pair looked at each other.
"He could be the result of an odd pair," Jen said to Edgar. "That might explain something…"
"It might explain a lot…" Zidane didn't ask what they were getting at. He didn't think they'd tell him anyway.
"Could you, um…finish?" he asked timidly.
"Oh!" Jen came out of her session of space exploration. "I'm sorry." She wiped his arm dry and wrapped it with clean material from her bag. "There you go. It should be good as new in a couple weeks, but I'll keep checking on it."
"Thanks," Zidane smiled back.
"So, when was the last time you ate?" she asked him.
"I don't remember," he replied honestly.
"Would you like to have dinner with us?"
"Surely, if you do not mind," he answered politely. She laughed in response and was soon joined by Edgar in it.
"What?" Zidane asked meekly, feeling his cheeks flush.
"Your accent, it's sooo cute," Jen grinned.
"I was laughing because she was laughing…" Edgar admitted. Jen turned to smile sweetly at him. He smiled sweetly back. Zidane just watched.
"Eddie…" she fingered his collar.
"Yes?"
"I'm out of salt, go get some," she winked and smiled more.
"Um…literally?"
"Yes, you goose," she laughed. "You can't make soup without salt!" She then kissed him. Zidane continued to watch.
"O-o-kay," he got up and went out the door.
"I'll second that opinion," Zidane said. Jen laughed again. So, now what? She's going to kiss me too?
"Don't worry about it. I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything." With that she went back down the hallway. Zidane watched her go, wondering if it was a good thing or a bad that she hadn't kissed him. When he realized what he was wondering, he shook his head. Strange life forms, he rolled his eyes. He got up to have a look around. He wandered over to the bookshelf and picked up one of the hard-backed printed books. After looking at the make of the object, he opened it somewhere in the middle. He peered at the print, confused. It was a strange language. But I speak the same as they do, don't I? He scanned the other titles on the shelf, and they all bore the same strange lettering. He looked down at the page he held, and tried to make it out again. Certainly I know this language… S-u-c-h a s-o-f-t s-w-e-e-t- v-o-i-c-e i-t h-a-d! Suddenly it clicked in his mind.
" 'What do you call yourself?' the Fawn said at last. Such a soft sweet voice it had! 'I wish I knew!' thought poor Alice. She answered, rather sadly, 'Nothing, just now.' 'Think again,' it said: 'that won't do.' Alice thought, but nothing came of it. *"
"That is one of my favorite children's stories," Jen said behind him. "Have you ever read it…wait, can you read?" He closed the book and looked up at her. She was drying her hands on a small towel as she walked towards him.
"No, I haven't…but I can read," he put the book back on the shelf.
"How old are you?" she asked him, looking again somewhat surprised. He thought about this for a moment as well, but came up with the same answer as always.
"I don't know," he shook his blond head. "How old do I look to be?"
"Maybe four or five years of age, but…show me your teeth."
"My teeth?"
"Yes, your teeth." He gave her the same strange look he'd been getting all day, but he opened his mouth. She looked at his…teeth…for a moment before looking at his eyes again.
"Yeah, you are definitely no more than six. By the time you're seven, you'll start losing your teeth. But they'll grow back!" Zidane simply looked at her awhile, blinking at intervals. Suddenly she stood up.
"I have to go check on the bread," Jen said quickly and she raced back down the hall.
"So, I'll know I'm seven when I start losing my teeth," he thought aloud. "Wonderful." Four, five, or six huh? For some reason, five seems about right. Yeah, I'll go with five unless someone can tell me otherwise… He climbed back into the chair and closed his eyes, savoring the comfort of civilization and sentient presence. I hope I'm not bothering these people…they're so nice…maybe everything will be clear to me tomorrow. He looked up as Edgar walked back in.
"You got the salt?" Jen called from the kitchen.
"Yes, honey," he answered. After dinner, Jen made up the couch with a blanket and a pillow so Zidane could sleep on it. Very gratefully, he snuggled down into the soft warmth the mock bed offered and swiftly drifted into sleep and a dream. All that the dream offered him was a blue light, so he was easily pulled out of it by the sound of voices. They were the hushed voices of his hosts; he did not stir because he figured that they were trying not to wake him.
"I feel so bad," whispered Jen.
"I know…me too," Edgar responded. "But we can't even afford to have children of our own, honey…"
"I know. I just wish I could do something…"
"Me too; the things I've heard about the orphanage…" Edgar's already hushed voice trailed off.
"We can't send him there!" Jen interjected.
"Shhhh!"
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "That place is dreadful." Zidane heard her approach him, so he pretended to sleep. She carefully brushed some stray hair from his face and gently rubbed his cheek with the back of her fingers.
"You'll wake him," Edgar admonished as he drew close to where she was.
"Poor thing," she breathed. "He looks so helpless, Eddie. And he's all confused and all alone…"
"We'll think of something," he promised. "We both have work tomorrow, so we should go to bed." She sighed softly as the two of them walked out of the room. I need to take care of myself…Zidane thought as he drifted back to sleep. I can't bother anyone to do it for me; it's not fair to them…
***
The house was empty when he awoke in the morning. When,
he sat up and stretched he noticed a piece of paper on the table. He picked
it up and looked at the strange handwriting. It took him a moment to decipher
it, for it was both in print and script; but he managed."Dear Zidain (sp?),
You said you could read, so I let you sleep in.
We'll be out 'til about three, when I come home. Help yourself to anything in the icebox.
-Jen"
He smiled at the note, but he knew what he had to do. He glanced around until he found a pen. After much concentration, he managed to communicate in his apparently second language.
"Thank you, Jen and Edgar. Your kindness has really touched me. But this is my problem…and I cannot find it in myself to trouble you any more. Please understand I am very grateful. Do not worry; I can look after myself. Until we meet again,"
He stared at the way his fingers had signed his name, and wondered for himself how to spell it so they might understand. He sighed and left it as "Zi—da-ne" in the manner that it was. Maybe they can understand… He relocked the door behind him and headed out into the town. It was time to start his life…
*from Lewis Carroll's Through the Looking Glass
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