"It's getting dark!" Cid called out. "Don't you think we should get going?" When there was no answer from the antisocial clod below, he sighed, shook his head, and rolled up the ladder connected to the ship's deck. She had been parked in a haphazard condition, balanced atop a rocky mound that served as the centerpiece for an especially annoying community, one run by a disagreeable young woman who flat out refused to trade with them for reasons unknown.

Before returning to the bridge, Cid looked up at the sky. Dark blue, with shining stars. It amazed him how many stars there were. He'd never seen so many of them within the confines of the planet's smoky atmosphere. Standing there, he began to think that perhaps there was a bright side to everything in this world. He threw his cigarette to the ground and extinguished it with the toe of his boot. "Guess we'll be staying here tonight, then."

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Her hand was mending, slowly. Much too slowly for the women of the village, however. She took their home remedies and potions with a smile, and liked to pretend that all of them just wanted her to be happy and well again, but she knew that it's only so she can be put to work like a mule once she was better. Still, she decided, it was much nicer than whatever fate she would have had wandering the desert. She kept an open mind, too, in the hopes that somewhere out there, somebody knew who she was.
Sometimes the bones in Tifa's hand would crack, like she was snapping her knuckles, if she worked them too much, but it didn't hurt quite as much anymore. They were willing to take this as a full recovery, and she wasn't willing to fight them anymore.

In the first few days, she spent time being shuffled from one dull task to the next. She displayed competency in very few of them, and none of them gave her any real satisfaction, save for when she was placed in charge of the chocobos. So there she stayed. Through her care, the birds were made strong and healthy. Some people were impressed. Impressed enough to not hate her entirely as much as before. They didn't believe her when she said that she'd had no prior experience with the chocobos.

Tifa was given permission to ride them every now and then. She never went too far, but just far enough that the little town barely peeked at her from below the horizon. She enjoyed pretending that she was a brave adventurer, riding her noble steed to the edge of the Earth and beyond.

When it got dark, and she lay in bed pondering her various thoughts, she imagined herself as that brave adventurer again, fighting monsters and saving the world from danger. In her imagination, she had a gang of friends who all loved her and would do anything for her. She was strong, and could defeat anything that would dare challenge her.

Life in the village was an odd experience. Whether or not Tifa could remember any of her prior experiences would probably have had very little effect on her time there in this small town.

The town, barely a few months old, was named Ymeja-Ruba. It was a word from an old, old language, of a people long extinct. Roughly translated, it meant "our hope that still lives." To Tifa, the name was highly inappropriate for a town with such people as citizens. Their faces showed no hope, only despair, shattered dreams and crushed spirits.

Nonetheless, Tifa began to grow accustomed to the villagers, and as time passed, she grew to hate them and their annoying habits more and more. The way that they went on and on about all the precious material possesions they had lost. The way they refused to acknowledge her existence except when she had done something wrong.

Above all, it was the constant uncertainty that she had whenever she went to bed on where she would awaken. On sleepless nights spent on uncomfortable, unfamiliar bedding, she wondered which would be worse; spending yet another day there, or that she would be returned to the desert.

No longer content to have her future decided by the whims of such infuriating people. So Tifa devised a plan. She would take her favorite chocobo, a black one she had christened Eryl, and get away from this awful place. From eavesdropping on the conversations of others, she had learned the names of several cities which may or may not still have existed.

It did not matter to her where she went, as long as it was far away, but one had particularly piqued her interest. Many of the villagers came from that city; Midgar. They had fled the city when meteor struck, and then set up camp there. Tifa heard stories of brilliant, everlasting light, with bustling street corners and buildings of glistening chrome. To her, it seemed like magic. And, perhaps, with so many people there, someone would find her and take her home.

With little deliberation within her head, she decided to head there at daybreak. Before anyone else was awake, she gathered a few supplies and lead Eryl from his pen. Knowing only that Midgar lay in a northeastish direction, she pointed her chocobo towards the sun with a wavering sense of purpose and flew away, letting her dreams carry her there.

They were all sitting, together, on the deck. More or less together, and only as much in the present place and time as they had been in the past few weeks.

Cloud was there, or not there, as always, staring blankly at whatever caught his eye. Cait Sith was there, too, repaired, somewhat. He was now a large, plush walkie-talkie. Cid's industrious crew worked at their posts, seemingly without end. Their diligence was frightening.

And there was Cid, perhaps the only one who was truly ever there. "So where do we go?" he asked, again. Cloud gave a vague shrug. His hands moved, touching each other, then breaking apart as if the other were a poison. However, a spark appeared to alight in his face.

"We could go to Nibel..." he wondered aloud.