Happy Sunday everyone! I hope you've been well.
So sorry that this chapter was so delayed! The holidays wrecked my schedule and life happens, but at least it's finally out now? I tried to avoid any terrible cliffhangers this time around lol
As always, thank you so much to silver-doe287 for editing this chapter! She's amazing at finding all of my typos, and there are quite a few lol
Enjoy the chapter :)
"Drop the knife," Loz ordered. His voice was gruff and nasally, undoubtedly because of his broken nose – courtesy of Tifa. Blood spilled over his mouth like lipstick and down his chin like a poorly-chewed meal, and there it rained, one ruby droplet at a time, onto the floorboard just inches away from her bare feet. But she hardly noticed. Though she could feel its warmth splash against her toes, her gaze remained locked on the pistol pointed at her chest. Her carmen eyes traced its sleek barrel and the soot stains on its blackened muzzle, and she couldn't help but wonder:
Is this the way I die?
Suddenly Loz jerked the gun to the side. "I said drop the knife, gyp," he said again. His lips were bared, his teeth bloodstained. "Don't make me ask again, ya' hear?"
Tifa's expression went stoney, and she slowly drew her arm forward. The knife dangled from her pinched fingers -
- I'm sorry, Cloud -
- and then she threw it as hard as she could. The blade spiraled through the air in brief flashes of silver, true to course… and then uselessly embedded itself into the wall. Loz cursed and light flashed as he fired his gun; searing heat grazed her shoulder and a bullet slammed against the floor, but Tifa forced it from mind, forced herself not to care, and skidded into the kitchen counter. She ripped open the knife drawer and grabbed the first two she saw, then turned around and threw the first while pocketing the other.
Her second throw hit true, and Loz grunted as the blade sank into his chest. She could practically hear its metal edge cut muscle and chip bone, and he stomach twisted in horror at the sight: the knife's hilt stuck out at a right angle, the wound bloodless, Loz's shirt pinched around it.
Her knees wobbled, and if it wasn't for her hand splayed against the counter, she would have fallen. It's over, she knew.
But then Loz ripped the blade out. Her eyes widened as it clattered uselessly against the floorboards, and then she dragged her gaze back up. The wound was bloodless no longer, and yet Loz's expression didn't seem hurt or pained. Instead, he simply looked… angry. There was a rage in his expression that hadn't been there before, a smolder to his eyes that promised she would regret that little move of hers.
"You're dead, bitch," Loz spat out, and Tifa – wild eyed, frantic, terror a song pounding in her veins – turned and ran.
He didn't die.
Her bare feet slipped across the hallway's thin rug as she sprinted for the front door, her slip swaying about her knees.
That should have killed him.
Moonlight spilled in through the cracks in the front door as she gripped the handle. It was icy against her clammy palm.
But he didn't even fall.
She twisted the doorknob just as a loud crack hissed through the air, and before she could blink, a bullet slammed into the door not even an inch away from her hand. Tifa gasped, a choked sound, but did not let go. If she let go of the door, she would die. If she did not get outside, Loz would murder her. And then -
- and then the door was being pulled open out of her hands. Hope briefly flared, a songbird in her chest opening its eyes to the approaching dawn, only to get immediately crushed when she recalled that Cloud wouldn't be home for a few more days. He couldn't be here,and so she flew back into the wall, knife held between her and whatever new horror would spill into her home.
She pressed her lips together in a thin, wavering line. This is it, she knew. She might have had a chance to survive against one intruder, but two…
But then the new intruder spoke, and all of Tifa's panicked thoughts screeched to a startling halt. "I thought I had a strange feelin'," a familiar voice said, and then the barrel of a shotgun appeared over her doormat. A slender finger pressed lightly against the trigger. "Guess I was right."
Loz's gun swiveled from Tifa to the open door. "The hell are you?"
"A concerned neighbor," came the immediate response, and then there was a sudden blast of light and lead. The flash blinded Tifa and its echo sent her ears ringing, yet she could still make out the wet crunch of shrapnel digging into flesh, of metal pinging against bone, of the harsh impact of bullet fragments slamming against the wall. It sent her stomach twisting and rebelling, but she sharply inhaled to settle herself.
The impact had sent Loz flying against the wall, where he slumped to the floor and thankfully continued to lie there, eyes closed and motionless. The only indication that he was still alive was the faint rising and falling of his bloodstained chest. Tifa crossed her arms over her chest, and though she wanted to turn away, she found that she couldn't. The sight of his broken, bloody body burned into her memory. She had a feeling that it would haunt her dreams as well.
"We need to tie him up," she eventually managed to croak out.
Aerith stepped behind her, one hand still holding her smoking shotgun, the other draped against her round belly. "Or bury him," she said haltingly. "He won't be livin' much longer."
"No, he'll stay alive. He's a devil," Tifa replied matter-of-factly. Despite the trembling in her limbs she managed to dig some rope out of the closet. It was strong, sturdy rope; Cloud had been saving it for when his lasso broke, but there were more pressing matters now. Standing over Loz's unconscious body, she turned to Aerith and said, "Help me."
There was no stopping the crack in her voice, and after a brief pause, Aerith's expression hardened and she nodded. It was awkward business dragging Loz outside, but the two of them managed to prop him against the old oak tree. Loz's head lolled uselessly to the side as they tied him up.
"Quickly now," Tifa murmured as she pulled the knot taunt. "There's no tellin' when he'll wake up."
Aerith's worked on securing Loz's feet. "Tifa, I shot the man in the chest," she murmured. To her credit, her voice didn't even waver or crack. "So he… he ain't wakin' up. In fact…" She sighed and then stood up, pausing only to stretch her hands over her head. She groaned when her back popped. "Well, I don't even know why we're tyin' him up instead of buryin' him. Folk just.. don't wake up from shotgun blasts, you know?"
Tifa grit her teeth. "No, he'll wake up," she said again. "And when he does, he'll be madder than a hornet. This here is the younger Simmel brother," she added, which had Aerith's eyes widening a fraction. Stories of the Simmels were known far and wide in this part of the land, and while the elder brother was known for his cunning, the younger one was best recognized as cruel. "And I know you've heard the stories, how the younger is a devil an' all."
Aerith's glanced down at Loz with fresh eyes. "I have," she said after a pause.
"Well, the stories are true." Tifa gave the knot another good tug, just to make sure it was as secure as she dared hope it would be. "He had slitted green eyes like a snakes, and after I got a dagger in him, he pulled it out like it was nothing."
Aerith glanced back to Tifa. "Truly?"
"If I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes, I wouldn't have believed it." Tifa stood up and glanced directly towards Aerith for the first time that night. The petite woman had her hands clasped under her round belly, her skirts were stained, her cheeks were flushed from the exertion, and her eyes had a wild look about them – the same look one gets when they shoot a man in the chest and watch his blood stain the floor.
Something within Tifa cracked. "Can I get you a water?" she weakly asked.
Aerith's shoulders slumped. "Tifa..."
"Really, I should get you some water." Tifa had already turned towards the house, arms hugged around herself. "This was… This couldn't have been good for the baby, so maybe you should sit down while I… I clean up a little, and -"
But a sudden Aerith's arms were suddenly around her. "I'm okay, Tifa," Aerith murmured, and hugged her all the tighter. "I promise. I've lived on the land and can handle pretty much anything life throws at me by now," she added, her tone just shy of teasing. "But… Are you okay?"
Tifa thickly swallowed. "I..." She wanted to lie and say that she was. She wanted to say that she had seen her fair share of bar brawls back in Midgar and knew her way around a fight, that she was fine, thank you very much.
But the words died on her tongue. Everything within her went brittle, fragile, bendable because tonight was different from all of that. Bar brawls and a devil shooting at you in your own home was as different as the summer sky was from winter nights. Hell, she had thrown knives at him. Her hand grazed her shoulder, and she remembered that she had been shot.
Her eyes pricked with warmth. "I'm not okay," she slowly, quietly admitted.
It was the confession that broke her completely. She couldn't help it, and with one last, choked gasp, placed her hands against Aerith's arms and allowed herself to cry.
Winter had bled into spring, and that meant that the sky was gray, the air was heavy, and the world held its breath as it waited for either booming thunder or blooming daisies. There was also a tension in the air, like a knife bent to the point of breaking, and its sharp edge slid across Cloud's skin as closely as a shave… except he didn't know anything about that, not yet. He was still far too young to even dream about growing stubble, let alone cutting any off. It would be many years until he'd even think about something as adult as that.
And yet he wished, with every wild beat of his wavering heart, that he was an adult now. Huddled as he was behind the broken wardrobe, all he could do was strain to hear the footsteps beyond the door and pray that they weren't heading towards him. His wish was a prayer written out of anxiety and healing bruises, and it was so worn from use that its meaning had gone flat and stagnate; yet he clasped his small hands together and prayed anyway, to all of the gods both known and unknown, that the footsteps would continue past his door... only for his hopes to be beaten down when they stopped at the threshold.
His fear was shrill in the resulting silence. The doorknob was turned, and terror tore through his mind in a shrieking soprano. His heart drummed wild in his chest when the door was forced open. His staccato pants clouded the air as the dust rained down, and a broken melody surged within him when he saw a large shadow on the other side.
If he was an adult, he could have fought back. If he was big and strong like his brother, then he could have run away and never come back… but he wasn't. He was small, and weak, and scared, and all he could do was press himself against the wall and squeeze his baby blue eyes shut…
… and then a gunshot echoed through the house. It ricocheted down the hall and spat red against the rug, and when all went silent and Cloud was brave enough to open his eyes, he noticed that the shadow had been replaced by a sharp smile and slitted green eyes…
Cloud awoke with a start. Images flashed across his mind one after another, each one sharp and jagged, but they did not cut like a blade would. Instead, the memories bashed within his skull like a poorly wielded club. Each hit a little harder than the one before, and it was only by blinking straight into the rising sun could he force them all back to the dark, cobwebbed corners of his mind.
It must have only taken a moment to regain control, and yet it felt like an eternity. His breath whistled between his teeth. Cold sweat beaded on his brow. His palms, pressed flat against the ground, trembled against the dirt as he pushed himself upright.
In this position, he could see the valley stretched out before him, and it was stunning. The valley was dressed in the morning's golden gown, and the gnarled oaks and whispering pines made up its proud gems. If it had been a dance, then the dance floor would have been the valley's grassy meadows while the domed ceiling would have been the blushing skies above. If it had been a ball, then birdsong would have formed the symphony while the bellowing cattle would have sung the chorus.
Yet the notes hit sour, and the melody ran flat. Not even Rain's gentle huffing as she pawed the ground gave him a measure of peace, and so he pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled, long and low, and willed his thoughts to calm. He had to focus on the job. Tonight, he and Zack would ride into Corel, trade the cattle for coin, and then…
He flicked his eyes back towards the jagged horizon. And then I'll uphold my end of the bargain, he and Sephiroth had made a deal on Tifa's life and so he would play his part, no matter how much he hated it, no matter how nauseous it made him feel. If all that meant Tifa would be safe, then he would do anything Sephiroth would ask. He would fall on his knees if he had to.
But is that really keeping her safe? a small part of him whispered. Are you really doing what's best for her?
Cloud grit his teeth and didn't – couldn't – answer. Instead he forced himself to his feet and brushed a hand against his holster, just to make sure his pistol was still there. It was, which begged another question:
Why didn't I use it last night?
It was another question he didn't have an answer for, so with a bitter mood he made his way towards the campfire that Zack was tending. The fire was small but cheerful, and it merrily crackled and popped when Cloud held out his hands to warm them. Dirt created dark crescents in his fingernails. The contours of his palms were lined with brown. His boots were scuffed and his cheek smarted from last night's blow, but if he closed his eyes and lost himself in the fire's warmth, he could almost imagine that he was home with Tifa, happy and safe, amiss in the life he had built for himself.
But the heat only stung his wounds and stray embers burnt his palms, so it wasn't long before he was opening his eyes once again.
Zack was also hunched by the fire, with a can of mash cupped in his palms and a tin mug of coffee lying nearby. The coffee was virtually untouched, as was his breakfast. His eyes were also bloodshot, dark bags lined his eyes, and his jawline was darkened by fresh stumble. He looked nearly as bad as Cloud felt.
Usually Cloud would have asked Zack if anything was wrong, but he did not feel like his usual self, and so he let the time pass in silence. The quiet gave him an opportunity to compose himself and to remind himself what needed to be done, which was: get to Corel, trade the cattle in for some coin, and then rob the mayor of Corel blind. In that order.
But then Zack broke that silence by loudly clearing his throat. "So," he began. His voice was rusty and rough. "You gonna tell me what you were up to last night?"
Even the fire seemed to go cold at the question.
"Walkin'," Cloud replied after a lengthy pause. "Couldn't sleep."
Zack's expression remained unchanged as he stared into the dancing flames. "Really," he said slowly.
"Really."
"Then I suppose your bruised cheek is also from your walk?"
Cloud's heart skipped a beat. "I slipped."
Zack's eyes flicked up to meet his, a clash of steel gray and sky blue. "Slipped," he repeated.
"Slipped," Cloud affirmed, and then reached down to grab a nearby stick. "The gravel is loose up the valley walls. Hard to keep your footing, so I think it's best we make our way down towards the meadows." He dragged the stick through the dirt in random twists and turns. "Don't want to risk a broken leg on the horses or the cattle."
For a long while, Zack didn't reply. The silence stretched so long that eventually Cloud's heart climbed up his throat and threatened to choke him, but finally Zack let out a long, deep sigh. "I suppose not," he said, and clasped his hands against his lap. "Look, Cloud. We've been friends for a good long while now, and I consider you my brother." He lifted his gaze. "You know that."
Shame was acid on Cloud's tongue, and he turned towards the fire to hide it. "I know," he replied. Suddenly the campfire's crackling and popping didn't sound so cheerful. Instead it sounded like it was cursing him, accusing him of keeping secrets and speaking lies, reminding him of how little his word was worth.
Zack slowly exhaled. "And I also know the difference between a bruise caused from a fall, and a bruise caused by a hand," he continued. "An' I know that your bruised cheek is from the latter."
Cloud continued to stare into the fire. "I slipped."
But Zack continued as if he hadn't spoken. "And if you don't want to talk 'bout it, fine. I've known you long enough to know how stubborn you can be. But," he added after a pause, "if you're in any sort of trouble…"
"I ain't," Cloud lied.
"…then I hope that you'll tell me, so that I can help you," Zack finished. "Like, remember when you first joined the Rangers?"
Cloud's lips tugged into faint smile. "I remember."
"You were a piece of work back then. Still are," Zack teased. "But… we were there for each other, Cloud. We helped each other. Saved each other's life a handful of times, even. We're brothers at this point, and brothers help each other."
I wouldn't know, Cloud almost told him, but held his tongue at the last second. "I think you're overthinkin' things, Zack," he began after a lengthy pause. "Like I said, I'm fine. Jus' couldn't sleep much last night so I went for a walk, then took a bad step and slipped like an idiot. Maybe all this ridin' is getting to me," he added with something of a smile. "But nothing else happened, Zack. I swear it."
It was strange, how easy lying had become.
Zack watched him for a long moment, but then the shadows in his expression faded. He ran a hand through his hair with a light chuckle. "Maybe this riding is getting to me, too. Makin' me paranoid or something," he said, and then got to his feet. Extending his hand to also help up Cloud, he continued, "Sorry for doubting you."
Something inside Cloud withered. "Don't worry about it. Let's just focus on gettin' to Corel… should be there by this afternoon, maybe even earlier."
"Thank the gods for that," Zack said, then yawned and reached down to grab his coffee tin. "You want breakfast?"
"Nah." Cloud ran a hand over Rain's coat, and she shook her head in thanks. "I got bread, an' I can eat in the saddle."
"Coffee?" Zack asked.
Cloud would usually never say no to coffee, but coffee was bitter and his day was bitter enough. "No thanks, I have my water."
Zack eyed in for a moment, but then shrugged. "Suit yourself."
Soon the boys had saddled their horses and had begun the tedious task of gathering up the cattle, who all had the good sense to stay near the cam. Soon well on their way, their horses' steps plodding against the soft earth and sky warm above them. The cattle bellowed as they walked.
Their destination was hidden somewhere on the horizon, and yet his gaze was tilted upwards. The Corel mountain range cupped them within its stoney hands, and peaking its jagged spires was an endless, rose gold sky. The rising sun stained the sweeping clouds shades of lilac. Hawks soared on thermals with their wings stretched taunt against the gentle gusts, and their wide arcs were slivers of black against the blue of his eyes.
He lowered his gaze, and pulled down the brim of his hat so that it shadowed his expression.
Earlier, he had described the dawn sky as blushing, but he had changed his mind since then. The sky didn't look as if it was blushing. Not in the slightest.
Instead, it seemed more like it was bruised.
The Corel mountain range was shaped like an M, with Rocket Town lying just outside the M's first peak and the town of Corel lying within the M's second dip. There, the eastern side of the mountain range blocked the wild storms coming off the Continental Ocean, while the center divide blocked the western squalls that came off the Wutai Sea. That meant that Corel was sitting on a very hot, very dry stretch of land.
That said, Corel was also one of the biggest towns on eastern side of the Continental Ocean. Back in the day it had been a busy mining town, but all of that disappeared when the silver dried up. Yet, like a stubborn splinter, Corel continued to hang on. The people got tougher, grittier, and found their living catering to the occasional traveler heading into or out of the mountains. Inn prices were cheap and so was the food, but the whiskey was the cheapest out of the lot. That was a mighty good thing, because thanks to recent happenings, Cloud had a feeling that he'd be drinking quite a bit tonight.
He also hoped, with every fiber of his being, that they wouldn't encounter one of the monsters that made the land surrounding Corel home. The Land Worm was a particularly nasty one; its spines were extremely sensitive to vibrations, and so it would burrow deep in the sand and wait there for its prey to walk above it… and then, with its mouthful of razor-sharp, serrated teeth, eat them whole. He had only seen the monster once, and that had been a long time ago. He prayed that the second time wouldn't be on this journey.
Thankfully the rest of the road was quiet – suspiciously so, Cloud thought as he dragged his gaze across the desolate landscape – and he and Zack reached Corel that afternoon with relatively little fanfare. It was easy to put the cattle in the open pasture, seeing as that would be their new home, and then they made their way to the town itself. Heat rippled off the golden sand in waves, but Rain didn't seem to care in the slightest. She was simply happy to see civilization once again; her ears perked up at the first brown shack they came across, and her pace quickened with every subsequent building.
Cloud reached down and ran a hand across her mane. "Easy, girl," he murmured as they passed an old, dilapidated well. "Almost there."
He knew that he should be excited, maybe even relieved, to have finally reached Corel. All of the cattle had made it. No one had gotten sick or injured – well, not too injured, he amended as he placed a quick hand on his swollen cheek – and above all, he could finally drop off the cattle and go home. He could see Tifa again. He could mend their fences, tend their field, and relax for a spell or two. Hell, he was even excited to see the damn chickens again.
And yet something within him squirmed at the thought of reaching Corel because if he was here, then he had to uphold his end of the bargain. He closed his eyes shut as Sephiroth's words echoed within him:
"In Corel there's something that I desire. The mayor of that town – Barret Wallace, I believe his name is – has a key to the town jail in his desk, as well as a pretty five thousand gil. I want both the key and the money in two days time."
Cloud opened his eyes and stared at the town spilled out before him, sick with dread.
"Meet me outside of town beside the old well. And one more thing… If you tell that Ranger friend of yours that we spoke, well, I suppose that means that you aren't as close to your wife as I thought. Which would be regrettable, though I would get great pleasure in killing her myself."
"Cloud?" A sudden voice snapped Cloud out of his thoughts, and he turned to see Zack riding beside him. The man's lips were pursed in concern. "You feelin' okay? Seemed a bit… dazed for a moment. You drinkin' enough water?"
"You're nannying me," Cloud accused. "I'm fine, jus' tired is all. And happy to finally reach Corel."
Zack chuckled. "Me too. Can't wait for a proper shower and a hot meal."
"You can say that again," Cloud replied with a brittle laugh, and then jerked his head towards the edge of town. One lone building stood away from the others, and a single tree grew out of the cracked earth to shade its front door. "So, stable is thata'way, while the inn is up the terrace, in the big brown building over there. How 'bout you get the horses and cattle settled while I negotiate the inn price. See, the woman that owns the place knows me -"
"Because you cheated her husband at cards?" Zack smirked.
"- because I stayed at that inn last time," Cloud finished, frowning now, "and she'll give me a good deal. I don't cheat at every card game, I'll have you know."
Zack grinned, boyish and lopsided. "Sure you don't," he replied, and then slid off of Spirit with little more than a wince and stumble. "I'll just… stable the horses, then. You do what you need to do."
I don't have a choice, Cloud mentally replied, and something in him twisted. "Will do," he said instead and then, with a quick exhale, he slid off of Rain… and nearly went head first into the dirt when he knees buckled, but he managed to save himself on the last second. Rain nudged him in concern, but Zack only laughed.
Cloud placed a hand on her nose. "Get some rest, Rain. You've earned it. I'll say goodnight later, okay?"
"Just get goin', you sap," Zack said. He was still chuckling at his expense, but a rude gesture from Cloud sent him cackling all over again. With a brief shake of his head he grabbed ahold of Rain's reins, and then led her and Spirit to the stable, still laughing.
Meanwhile, all humor was lost on Cloud as he went straight to the inn. He took the steps slowly, his thighs and saddle-sore ass protesting all the while, but he eventually made it to the inn's brass door. Its windows were cracked, the front porch was sticky, and the smell of cheap wine that had lingered at the doorway nearly knocked him over when he stepped inside.
The moment he entered, a loud voice greeted him. "Wel – Oh, it's you," said the innkeeper, Mary. She was currently popping open a new case of beer, and her chapped hands were a furious red as she held the bottle opener. "Back so soon, and with them cattle I s'ppose?"
"Ma'am," Cloud said in greeting as he shambled his way to the front. "An' that's right. Just got to town a moment ago. Got two rooms available?"
Mary snorted as if it were a dumb question. Maybe it was. "'Course we do," she said, and inclined her head towards the nearby staircase. "Go ahead and pick two out, whichever you want. Ain't nothin' special or fancy, as you very well know. An' if you want somethin' to eat, be quick about it," she added, almost as an afterthought. "Them workers will be back tonight late, and they're keen to scarf down any morsel in the place."
"Workers?" Cloud echoed. He hadn't heard about this the last time he had been in town. But then again, the last time he had been here, it had been stunningly quiet.
"The folk workin' the railroad," Mary said by explanation. She set aside the beers and then moved on to the ale, which hissed as they were forced open. "They got this gran' plan, you see. If they get a railroad to connect us to the other towns along the mountain, then they think that perhaps we'll see new life in this lil' village of ours."
Cloud made a noise. Now this he was vaguely familiar with. "Seems like a tough job," he replied as he took two room keys off of the wall.
"That's right. They're workin' their way westward right now, hopin' to reach the city of Costa del Sol before the next winter."
"Gonna take that long?"
Mary shot him a long look. "That long," she deadpanned. "And that expensive, might I add. But," she continued with a vague wave of her hand, "our troubles ain't your troubles, an' I'm sure you got enough with the cattle and all. Go, clean up and rest. Bring your rancher friend too, wherever they may be, and I'll make sure you get a hot meal in you."
Cloud's expression softened; after eating meals cold in the saddle all day, the thought of a hot meal nearly had him melting to the floor. "Thanks," he said honestly, and began to make his way up the stairs towards their rooms. Yet just as his boot hit the first step, something within him twisted and he glanced over his shoulder. "And Mary?"
"Yes?"
"Is the mayor in town?"
Mary glanced at him oddly. "Sure is. Why?"
"Gotta speak to him about the cattle," Cloud said quickly. "But no matter, I'll find him. Take care now."
"Take care," came Mary's response, and soon the only sound was her scrubbing the dishes and his boots scuffing the stone floor. He felt jittery, as if ants had made his way into his clothes. He wanted to run. He wanted to sleep. He wanted…
He opened the door to his room, looked at the thin bed and small water dish, and realized:
All he really wanted was to go home.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Things are slowly picking up. Crazy how this is only chapter six - in my head, we were much farther along lol
So usual shameless plug, I post chapter previews on my twitter (link in profile) as well as occasional writing updates, just so that you all know what I'm working on and when the chapter will get published :) You can find a link to my ko-fi and YA books there as well if you'd like to support my work, but please don't feel obligated to do so - if you're enjoying the story, then that's more than enough for me :)
Until next time... stay well, stay safe, and I wish you all the best :)
