IX

CHAPTER IX

CROSSING THE CONTINENT

The first thirty-six hours that followed the detour to Fort Condor passed without much incident. As chance would have it, the biweekly delivery of provisions and news to the Volunteer Corps had arrived ahead of schedule, only a short time before Cloud and the others had unexpectedly appeared. Insisting on compensation for their promise to aid the workers' cause, Zemzelett had negotiated with the driver for him to ensure the fugitives' safe passage across Fjordland as far as the Baldor Mountains; it was the closest he came to the city of Junon.

The five had since spent almost the entirety of the ride clinging to the rear of the man, Cripshay's, old-fashioned pA-16 pickup truck. It was a significantly dated version of the pA-66 model owned by Farmer Bill at the Chocobo Ranch, and infinitely less comfortable. Without the security of a fastened seatbelt, they were tossed violently time and again against the mouldy walls and rusting steel framework of the wagon as the bulky vehicle bounced along the gravel highway. The silver lining was that the tarpaulin sheet strapped to the roof of the cargo hold provided a welcome and resilient armour against the regular winter showers, though only granted them a view of the countryside that lay behind them.

The journey had taken them northwest beyond the barren wastelands surrounding Fort Condor and the rolling hills of the Allemange Plains to the sagging bluffs that overlooked Siren Bay. The dark and choppy waters of the vast lagoon seemed to span such a distance that the group could have been forgiven for assuming nothing but the snaking Ptolomea Strait lay between them and the ocean, as even the horizon did not betray the presence of the Peltast Peninsula whose horn arced for several dozen miles around the western banks.

Countless rural settlements and homesteads marked the sprawling shoreline of the great fjord, simple buildings constructed in sandstone or granite, many of which boasted small but delightful flower gardens, though spring was still months away and the soil was mostly bare. These remote communities exhibited little in the way of activity and were of scant interest to foreigners, cast in the disheartening gloom of a perpetually-grey sky. Farmyards empty but for a handful of livestock or weather-beaten chocobos dotted the verdant moors and chequered fields, occasionally attended by derelict barns or mills. Very few vehicles passed them on the road, frequently in the form of trundling tractors or sputtering sA-27 motortricycles, oblivious to the illicit freight of Cripshay's six-wheeled sedan.

By late afternoon of the first day, the company had waved goodbye to the craggy coves of Siren Bay and entered the dominion of the Eastern Continent's Midwest. The landscape of the region was notably flatter, easing the turbulent ride to the point where both Barret and Red XIII had dozed off, the latter's substantial feline body filling much of the shuddering cargo bed while the others huddled on the benches at either side.

Cloud had spent a large portion of the journey gazing out from the back of the pickup, speaking only when addressed, his mind entranced by the ever-changing blur of scenery. It was calming to feel the cold raindrops against his skin and the air through his spiked locks, or smell the familiar childhood scent of hay bales on the wind, or hear the distinct caws of circling seagulls and screeches of the flightless epiornii flocks that pranced on the pastures. Each of these trivial things reminded him that he was alive, but also just how much he had lost.

He had sensed Tifa's concern for him; the same maternal instinct she had regularly displayed since that fateful evening in early December when she had found him dazed and confused near the Train Graveyard of Midgar's Sector7 Slums. Despite the years that had come and gone since the terrible events at Nibelheim, she had received him into her inner circle without hesitance or question, providing sanctuary at her Seventh Heaven bar and insisting on his recruitment by AVALANCHE. Cloud knew that she would understand his reserved state, for she too had suffered and lost at the hands of Sephiroth.

Dusk had long settled over the grasslands before Cripshay turned onto one of the narrow dirt tracks that branched from the highway. Knolls of unkempt weeds dominated the lane, gnarled and clawing at the wagon as its flickering headlights washed over them. The driveway led them to the neglected courtyard of a crumbling redbrick mansion, the south corner of the roof having completely collapsed, with much of the walls enveloped by thick moss. Rumbling to a halt, the battered Goodstone tyres squealing, Cloud had heard their escort hop down from the cab, soon appearing from the dimness at the rear of the truck.

"This here's the old Rhapsodos Estate," the lean man had explained, hauling a sack of camping equipment from beneath Barret's feet, and gesturing for them to climb out. "We'll be sleepin' in the caretaker's cabin tonight."

"Won't the owners mind?" Aerith had asked unsurely.

"Owners?" Cripshay had chuckled, marching across the once-decorative paving of the silent quad, his shadow prominent in the moonlight. "Ain't been nobody livin' in this place for years. They used to grow barley in the fields 'round back, but I guess the plantation just got abandoned…"

The party had set off at sunrise the next morning, a low mist hanging above the country like a ghostly blanket, bringing with it an unnatural chill. Returning to the main road, they had followed the high hedges of weary grain until, after around an hour, they pulled up to a junction at the foot of a gradual slope. As Cripshay had slowed to take the western route, Cloud caught sight of the frail and rotting signposts, directing the traffic east to Mythril Mine or north to the now-obsolete coal refineries at the head of the River Ironite.

By midday, they had reached the boundaries of Dinornis Forest, the highway slinking within the armies of conifer and spruce trees. Numerous rays of dense sunlight struck the muddy track like golden spears, piercing the shade of the leafy evergreen canopy overhead to create a mesmeric kaleidoscope of shapes across the ground before the pA-16. Diurnal owl-like monsters hooted raucously in the treetops, their pointed ears alert as they clapped their hefty barbed wings, warning their kin of the hulking metallic intruder as the grinding cylinders of its tired 1S-Geu type Mako engine annihilated the tranquillity.

"Never had this problem when I was a kid," Barret had complained, his bitterness over their use of a Shinra-built automobile unyielding. "Back then, the steam-powered cars did just fine…"

The group had paused for lunch at a glade enclosed by a wall of compact foliage, rationing what little bread and tinned meat the men of Fort Condor had been able to spare. The sounds of the woodland captivated them; shrieks of birds squabbling on obscured branches or grunts of rodents burrowing in the undergrowth or the faraway howls of wild beasts hunting altogether generated a somewhat satisfying ambience. The only disturbance came when a tiny gremlin stumbled upon the clearing, the creature's bearded face contorting into a mixture of fear and revulsion. Much to the amusement of its audience, the gremlin had unleashed a barrage of foul-mouthed human vocabulary for which these peculiar fiends were known, then scampered back into the vegetation.

It was only when at last their passage across the Midwest brought them hours later to the Wyvern Sound, however, that the company was afforded the most remarkable vistas of their odyssey yet. They had emerged from the Dinornis Forest near the northern tip of the three-hundred-mile-long firth, the largest of Fjordland. A herd of grazing diceratopses were cagy as the haggard sedan roared past along the slender road, watching through narrowed eyes hidden within the bucks' armoured skulls, their attention returning to the crops as the pickup approached the edge of the plateau at which the route had wound down along the jagged cliffside.

They were presented with the panorama of an immense basin whose glassy surface reflected the stunning snow-capped highlands that encircled its coast, the tallest of the peaks shrouded in mist. Tree-covered slopes cascaded into the turquoise water as far as the eye could see, broken sporadically by secluded sandy inlets or the mouths of tumbling creeks, the glimmer of leaping salmon evident as the fish made their way upstream to breed. Even from the altitude of the sheer incline, they could make out wiry tentacles of several beachplugs basking along the rocky coves below, the preying molluscs patiently awaiting curious birds to settle nearby so that they may pounce. Progressively descending the sharp turns of the bluff and tracing the shores of the sound, the party had travelled beyond the divine scenery and once again onto the sweeping savannahs in the direction of the Baldor Mountains.

"So, Zemzelett tells me you used to be with the Shinra Army."

Cripshay's unexpected conversation startled Cloud, drawing his thoughts back to the rattling cab of the pA-16 truck. By the driver's own request, the group had taken turns to accompany him, lending an ear to his rambling stories of life on the potato fields outside his hometown of Corvette, or his former employment as a labourer at the coal refineries. Due to a lack of steady work and no real commitments, his existence had since become somewhat nomadic, but he seemed charming and earnest, and grateful to share the trip with others.

"That's right," Cloud answered, wrinkling his nose as a pungent stench of stale manure wafted through the car.

"Which division?"

"I was a SOLDIER. First Class."

"Oh," grunted Cripshay, pulling his bunnet down over his forehead to shield his eyes from the deepening glare of the sun, leaving tufts of greying hair poking out the sides. Puffing on his tobacco pipe, he gave his passenger a nervous glance.

"Does that intimidate you?" Cloud posed curtly, sensing a tension.

"Intimidate?" he cackled, bearing his brown teeth. "Makes me wary, sure, but not intimidated. I just ain't the biggest fan o' the Shinra is all."

"Yeah?" Cloud sighed, gazing out the window. "Join the club."

"Nah, you an' your friends are quite normal compared to some o' the hitchhikers I've picked up over the years," Cripshay continued. "Believe me, lad, I've met some characters on these jobs."

"Whatever…"

"I gave this one stranger a ride a couple of months back," recalled the driver, ignoring Cloud's flippant attitude, "dressed in some kinda mysterious military outfit he was. One that I ain't seen before. He was real quiet at first, starin' straight ahead, an' refused to take his hood down. I tried askin' a few questions, y'know, to help break the ice an' make him feel more comfortable. All I got was silence. Didn't wanna tell me his name, where he was from…nothin'…

"Then, I raised the subject 'bout what he did for money, an' he opened right up. It was like a totally different guy…I'll never forget it. He called 'imself Van Bungee, an' it turns out he was a thief who stole from Shinra to trade with towns in the Midwest. O' course, me bein' all nosy, I wanted to know what kinda stuff he looted, but that's when things got serious. He showed me this weird hi-tech Mako gun, so I asked where he'd got it. He just replied that the vagrants o' the Slums had discovered some secret underground facility in the caverns beneath Midgar. Started babblin' 'bout a whole army of SOLDIERs bein' trained down there-"

"Impossible," scoffed Cloud, shaking his head dismissively. "I would've heard of it."

"That's what I said," Cripshay countered with a shrug, "but he told me he'd seen it for himself. There was truth in his voice."

"Yeah, well I don't buy it."

"An' I don't blame ya," he chortled, "but you can't deny that there's plenty happnin' on this Planet that we can't even imagine. I gotta agree with the old cave fella on that one…"

"Who?"

"Oh, sorry, I'm talkin' 'bout this elderly wacko I've encountered a few times," Cripshay mused, a fleeting smile on his lips. "He lives in a grotto up near the railway tunnels at the source o' the Ironite. Damn fool only uses the river to wash an' fish, even in the winter when it's freezin'. I mean, surely it's just melted snow from the Midgar Mountains by then?

"Anyway, I found him sittin' by the side of the road one evenin' an' gave him a lift back to Corvette. All he did the whole way was sleep or keep askin' me how many times I'd fought in battle. After Gods-know-how-many attempts to convince him I'm just a handyman, I decided to humour him, and told the bloke I'd killed ninety-nine monsters. An' you know what he did? The crackpot rewarded me with this pendant…"

As he spoke, Cripshay pulled his denim dungaree braces aside and, reaching under his oil-stained shirt, unveiled a precious metal fragment on a thin chain around his neck. The polished surface of the grape-sized nugget exuded a silvery gleam, a stark contrast to the grubby fingers of its owner as he caressed it gently. Leaning forward from the passenger seat to inspect the bullion with studious eyes, Cloud frowned as the realisation dawned on him.

"Is that what I think it is?" he murmured.

"Yup!" grinned Cripshay, taking his focus from the road to admire the priceless treasure. "Mythril."

"And the old man just gave it to you?"

"Wouldn't take no for an answer," he nodded, inhaling deeply on his pipe. "Guess he had no use for it. Neither do I, to be honest, but I took it…I mean, look how big it is. All it does is just dangle 'round my neck like a feather."

"Mythril's extremely rare," said Cloud, transfixed on the locket. "If the wrong person saw you wearing that, they'd kill you for it."

"My thoughts exactly," he gulped, his expression pensive. "If I was a superstitious man, I'd even say it's brought me bad luck. But, I ain't a superstitious man, I'm a rational man; that's why I think you should have it."

"Huh?" Cloud stammered.

"Just like you said," explained Cripshay, making no effort to conceal his enjoyment over his acquaintance's perplexed face, "hangin' onto this thing could mean I end up on the wrong end of a bandit's dagger. Having a death sentence cast on me ain't exactly an ambition o' mine. You, on the other hand…nobody in their right mind's gonna steal from an ex-SOLDIER.

"Plus, Zemzelett kinda let slip 'bout your mission to stop Shinra. Why'd you think I agreed to help you outlaws? I don't mean no disrespect or nothin', but for the love of Minerva, a giant with a machine gun on his arm, a weird animal covered in tribal tattoos, and yourself with that huge sword o' yours ain't exactly commonplace-"

"What are you getting at?"

"Listen, man," Cripshay grew serious, acknowledging Cloud's angered tone, "I had a good life at the coal refineries, but Mako energy robbed me of it. No-one wants to strike back at these greedy bastards more than I do. I'm not a freedom fighter. Gods, I'm not even that smart. But, that don't mean I won't play my part for the cause. If a token gesture like givin' you a ride or passin' on this Mythril might help you guys in some way, then that's what I'm gonna do…"

As the words trailed off, Cloud noticed for the first time that the pickup was steadily slowing. Squinting against the ebbing sunlight, he peered through the dusty windscreen and saw a lurking frontier of evergreen trees approaching, its regimented clusters establishing a formidable woodland bastion. Few conifers strayed from the wall, the border between the forest and the dry plains unambiguous. It was set against a backdrop of the Baldor Mountains, whose white crests rose far to the north like great sentinels. Veering left, Cripshay took the vehicle off-road, its tyres bounding over the straw hummocks, finally rolling to a standstill at the edge of the treeline.

"Okay," he declared, taking the pipe from his lips and stuffing it under his hat, "we've arrived."

"Where are we?" asked Cloud as he opened the door and climbed down from the cab, a refreshing breeze passing over him.

"This is Capparwire Forest," Cripshay shouted as he disappeared around the opposite side of the wagon, banging his palm on the rusting body to notify the others to disembark. "The highway don't enter it for another few hundred miles, an' by then we'll have passed Corvette. It'll look suspicious if I'm not back soon, so this is where we part ways."

"You sayin' we gotta hike it?" grumbled Barret as he dropped clumsily to the ground, sluggishly composing himself to assist Aerith and Tifa.

"'Fraid so," the driver replied, putting his hands on his hips as he watched the fugitives assemble their baggage. "But, this here's a shortcut to the city if you're goin' on foot."

"How do we get there?" asked Cloud, slotting his Buster Sword onto its holster and shouldering a backpack.

"Just keep headin' northwest," Cripshay motioned with a wave in the general direction. "Use the angle of the shadows to guide you if you get lost. After a day or two, you'll find the old freight railway. The tracks'll take you straight to Junon."

"Thank you…" Tifa hugged him, "for everything."

"A…anytime," he stammered bashfully, his cheeks glowing scarlet. "Be careful, though, there's still some Shinra outposts along the way that're patrolled by roboguards."

"Nothing we can't handle," Cloud responded, undeterred.

"I hope so…" he muttered, looking tentatively towards the dark wood. "Folks in these parts are scared o' the forest, an' people in Corvette been gossipin' for weeks 'bout a black mist that suddenly appeared in the sky not so long ago. Only rumours I reckon, but still-"

"We'll be fine," Aerith assured him with an angelic smile, placing a hand soothingly on his arm. "Take care of yourself."

"An' when you see Old Man Sakaki," added Barret, lifting his bulging limb to display the gatling-gun, "tell him I'm still wearin' this damn prosthetic."

"Let's be on our way," instructed the party's leader, starting through the tall stalks of the heath.

"Cloud!" called Cripshay, halting him after only a few steps. Cloud turned to see him yank the Mythril pendant over his head and, with a final glimpse of the priceless metal as if to wish it farewell, tossed it to the former SOLDIER. "Good luck…"

Much of Capparwire Forest's expansive domain belonged to the valley that lay between Wyvern Point and the Baldor Mountains, and so seemed always to be on a gradient of some sort. The trunks of the scaling trees had grown thick over the centuries, their girth immeasurable, secured to the rich earth by an entanglement of probing roots. So compact were the legions of conifers that the ceiling of leaves they had created was too dense at times for even a sliver of sunlight to breach. Though, when a distant rumble of thunder reached the ears of the group, they knew that they would undoubtedly be sheltered from the subsequent rains.

A mixture of sweet amber and dampness flirted with their nostrils, occasionally interrupted by the overwhelming aroma of the pinecones that littered the ground. Twigs cracked loudly underfoot as the company held the course Cripshay had recommended, trudging through a sea of withered bark and crisp rotting foliage. Gurgling brooks trickled down slopes shaped by boulders covered in woolly moss, allowing them to refill the canteens Zemzelett had generously supplied. The girls entertained themselves by picking the large cupped mushrooms that sprouted along the trail, offering the edible fungi to their comrades as a nourishing substitute for the dried food the five had been limited to almost every day since leaving Kalm.

Unlike the vibrancy of the Dinornis, however, an eerie ambience smothered this gloomy landscape. There was no birdsong; no scrambling in the underbrush; no buzz of curious insects. The haunting stillness lingered on the ancient air as if mourning the loss of its very soul, the murkiness that lay beyond their vision like a window to an alternative and ill-omened dimension. Whatever life may have dwelled in the dark groves around the base of the mountain had long ago cloaked its existence from the menacing gaze of the ageless and inhospitable trees.

That evening, they fashioned a small camp at a dell bound by a pair of murmuring streams and a thicket of bramble bushes too thorny to negotiate. The tents were set upon the soft turf of the confined glade, and a fire lit using the sticks and bracken they had collected during the trek. The warmth of the flames was satisfying, briefly alleviating the heavy thoughts that burdened the party, until one by one they filtered away so that only Cloud remained on watch, absently stroking the blade of his greatsword as he stared dreamily into the dying red embers of the campfire.

"The forest is weeping…" Aerith had whispered under her breath before falling asleep that night, conducting a Planet reading as her ancestors once did, and reciting the poem her biological mother had taught:

Cetran children,

The Planet's from birth,

Speak with the Planet

And unlock its worth.

Cetran children,

The Promised Land waits,

With bliss never-ending

Beyond secret gates.

"There is so much suffering here…I don't understand what you're trying to tell me…"

The following day's journey proved more challenging than they had anticipated. A milky haze had descended in the early hours of the morning, swathing the woodland in a cold blanket of opaque vapour. Much of the slog was against an incline, further draining the strength from their fatigued legs as they lumbered towards the high ground, and perspiration soaked their clothes more thoroughly than any downpour had during their travels. When at last they broke free of the fog's wispy clutches and emerged atop a ridge wide enough for them to enjoy a short rest, Aerith's manner shifted abruptly and without warning from serene to desperately anxious.

"What is it…?" she cried out, falling to her knees, clasping her ears frantically as the others gaped at her in fearful bewilderment.

"Aerith!" gasped Tifa, immediately tending to her tormented friend. "What's wrong?"

"Show me…?" wailed Aerith, her eyes shut tight, her entire body trembling. "Show me what…?"

"What's happening?" Tifa's panicked glances darted back and forth between her companions as the Geomancer mumbled incoherently, addressing an ethereal entity. "Somebody…help her!"

Aerith suddenly shot to her feet, ripping free of Tifa's embrace and stumbling on the muddy hill as she sprinted along the dirt track. Stunned by her crazed behaviour, it took the others a few moments to react, each of them careering down the path after her. The tails of her pink dress flapping at her heels as she ducked and weaved through the overhanging branches, hurdling a fallen log, the girl ran as if possessed by a nameless power, ignoring the pleas of those in pursuit. Galloping after her, his enhanced physique outstripping the rest, Cloud slashed his way through the vegetation, swiftly gaining on Aerith. As he closed in, he grabbed the platinum bangle on her wrist, causing her to trip and plunge into an adjacent hedge.

Cloud tumbled through the shrubs after her, landing hard on a floor of fine grass. Quickly recovering his bearings, he saw Aerith less than five yards away, her attention fixed on the enormous white marble obelisk at the heart of the area. They had come to yet another clearing, the spruce trees on its circumference tall but slender, guarding the space in what appeared to be a perfect circle. An overcast sky loomed threateningly above, an ominous addition to the unnerving scene.

The strange monolith rose from the centre of the glade, each of its four sides adorned by engraved murals of prehistoric origin. At its pinnacle was a vessel, a carved chalice held aloft by a quartet of spokes, but the object for which it had been designed was now absent. A large chunk was also missing from one face near the column's height, as if it had been cleaved by a monstrous brute.

"I see…" Aerith breathed, her features laden with awe as she bowed in veneration of the obelisk. Their comrades clambered hurriedly through the thicket seconds later.

"What's going on?" panted Tifa with confusion.

"Does my eye deceive me…?" Red XIII stammered as he absorbed the site. "That…that's a Materia Pillar…"

"Huh?" Barret snorted, his brows furrowing. "What'd you say, old timer?"

"A Materia Pillar," he repeated, trotting inquisitively forward, his snout twitching as he inspected the odours of the locale. "This is a sacred monument. It was one of many erected millennia ago by the Cetra to honour the Gods, but only a handful still exist."

"Kjata…" croaked Aerith, gingerly pushing herself up, grasping Tifa for support. "This one's dedicated to Kjata the Raging Taurus, but…something happened here…something terrible…a light…the light that penetrates the darkness…it no longer shines…"

"Wait!" Red XIII snarled unexpectedly, the gruff seriousness of his eloquent voice startling.

"What is it?" asked Cloud, immediately gripping the handle of the Buster Sword.

"I hear something," replied the fiery beast as he scanned the treetops before them. "Someone is up there, close by, attempting to sneak up on us."

Heeding the counsel, Cloud followed his vigilant gaze, squinting in the daylight as he examined the layered canopies. Most of the thick branches were hidden within the shroud of evergreen, like a curtain swaying in the breeze. Taking measured, purposeful footsteps across the glade, his weapon raised defensively, Cloud began to edge towards the perimeter of the wooded area. There came a rustle from high atop a spruce to his right, seizing his focus. The sound hastened as he advanced in preparation of a quick and disabling blow but, when a squirrel dashed from the foliage, he exhaled, his shoulders slumping.

Allowing his muscles to relax slightly, Cloud turned, but caught a flash of silver from the corner of his eye. Swinging the Buster Sword with all his might, the blade clashed with the spiked shuriken as it soared gracefully through the air towards him, causing the metallic missile to change direction and slice effortlessly through the bark of a nearby tree, embedding itself deep in the trunk. Glancing up in the same motion, Cloud saw the figure of a girl dive at him from where the shuriken had come, but could do little to regain his balance as her bootlaces smashed hard against his chin, knocking the greatsword from his hand.

He staggered backwards, clutching his jaw as he tasted blood. The Ninja pounced once more, her attack like greased lightning, striking him with guile and force. Her wushu-style martial arts techniques proved difficult to parry, with Cloud drawing every defensive combat manoeuvre in his repertoire simply to restrain the onslaught. Aerith and Tifa yelled out from behind him, their voices seeming a thousand miles away. With a surge of strength, he pushed the girl to the side, allowing himself the brief space and seconds to gather his composure.

Cloud looked down in an attempt to glimpse her face, but she dodged his line of sight in contemplation of her next action, agile as a mouse. With a blur of movement, she danced her way around him, her feet light over the ground. She kicked out sharply and caught the joint of his knee, making it buckle beneath him. As he faltered, she launched another assault but, blocking her swipe, he knocked her standing leg away.

The Ninja toppled to the dry earth, landing awkwardly as she fought to break the fall. Groaning, she tried to spring up, but hesitated as Cloud placed a heavy military boot across her throat. He glared at her as she struggled under the pressure, wiping the blood from his burst lip with the back of his gloved hand and, for the first time, realised how young she appeared.

The girl's petite form and childlike complexion suggested she was no older than sixteen, her features unmistakeably Wusheng. She was clad in only a thin sleeveless turtleneck that exposed her toned stomach, and small khaki shorts, with most of her pale skin visible but for the crafted armour of polished bone that shielded her entire left arm. Her bobbed black hair had been tied back by a green bandanna, leaving only a few stray locks of fringe on either side of her round face.

"Man, I can't believe I lost," she moaned petulantly, wriggling to free herself. "You spiky-headed jerk! One more time…let's go one more time!"

"Not interested," Cloud answered bluntly, releasing his hold on her, gesturing to the others that he had the situation under control. "If I let you up, do you promise not to attack?"

"Huh?" the girl squawked in surprise as she leapt to her feet, frowning as her gaze passed suspiciously from Cloud to the group, and back. "You thinkin' of runnin' away or somethin'?"

"I told you, I'm not interested."

"C'mon, fight me," she teased, her hands on her hips. "What's the matter? You scared of me?"

"Petrified," he retorted sarcastically, his impatience growing.

"Just as I thought," she shrugged. "What do you expect with my skills? Well, if you're feelin' lucky, we can go another round later. There's no Materia here anyway. So…um…I'll be off now. See ya!"

"Wait a second," Cloud demanded, snatching her arm as she spun on her heels.

"What?"

"So, that's it?"

"What's it?"

"You ambush us for no reason, then just leave?"

"Did you want somethin' more?" the girl quipped.

"At least tell me why you did it."

"Well, you're a SOLDIER, ain't ya?' she scowled, her grey eyes flitting derisively over his dark blue outfit and crested belt. "Don't think I can't tell from your uniform!"

"I-"

"What's up with this broad?" shouted Barret as the party crossed the clearing towards them, interrupting Cloud before he could explain himself.

"Cloud, do you know her?" Tifa asked as they approached, looking the adolescent Ninja up and down with distaste.

"Shut up, Boobs!" she sneered ungraciously, pulling free of Cloud's grip and massaging her wrist. "As if I'd have anythin' to do with you punks."

"Hey, don't speak to her that way!" scolded Aerith, appalled at the outburst.

"Or else what?" the girl snickered insolently.

"What's your name, kid?" Cloud intervened before Aerith could respond, her mouth twisted in disbelief at the show of arrogance.

"My name?" she called over her shoulder, scuttling to retrieve her shuriken. Brushing the brittle bark from her precious weapon, she quickly examined the intricate markings of the four pointed blades for damage. Slotting it into the casing on her spine, she peered undecidedly back at the company, pausing for a moment. "What's it to you?"

"How about telling us what you're doing out here, then?" probed Cloud, folding his arms.

"Nope," she cackled, giving a mock salute, "I'm really just gonna leave."

"Yeah, so?" snapped Tifa, still seething from her earlier jibe. "Do whatever you want."

"Go ahead," Cloud added indifferently, refusing to tolerate the mind games.

"I'm not kidding!"

"Quit wasting our time," growled Tifa. "Stupid kid."

"Make fun of me, will ya?" the young girl jeered, reaching under the straps of her armour and proudly holding up a small leather coin purse. "Now, I'm really mad! But, I gotcha, an' it serves y'all right-"

"Hey!" roared Cloud, groping the pockets of his braces only to discover they had been emptied during the skirmish. "My money!"

"You pissed me off an' it's cost you!" she goaded, stuffing the pouch back under the shield. In the blink of an eye, she had sprang up on a neighbouring stump and vaulted stylishly onto a branch almost twenty feet above the dell. A smug expression betrayed the otherwise impressive feat and, with one final taunting holler, the Ninja disappeared into the forest. "Later!"

"She's gone," Aerith shook her head, dumbfounded, staring at the spot as if anticipating the trees to toss her back. "What was all that about?"

"Ain't we gonna go after her?" hissed Barret, undoubtedly agitated by the affair.

"No…" Cloud said quietly, carefully considering his reaction. "It was only two-hundred gil."

"The amount don't matter!" he argued, his voice shriller than usual. "She just stole from you, man."

"Be patient," replied the leader as he bent down to reclaim his sword, "I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of her."

"Greed…" sighed Red XIII with disgust, turning and retracing his steps towards the Materia Pillar as the first drops of rain fell upon the ancient site. "A perfect example of human nature. But, what does it prove? I wonder if this is why the Planet is so close to demise…?"

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