He was in a cozy, candlelit restaurant, where the soft glow of warm lighting cast an intimate atmosphere. The air was filled with the tantalizing aromas of delicious cuisine.
Seated across from him was Aerith, her vibrant green eyes sparkling with laughter and joy. She wore a radiant smile that could outshine the stars, her demeanor a testament to the happiness of the moment.
Their conversation was a delightful blend of jokes and laughter, the rapport between them easy and natural.
It was strange, however. At times, it felt like he wasn't really there— like he was only watching from behind his eyes, but something was controlling his body.
He did not pay it much mind at first, for he was finally happy. After all he had been through, they were finally reunited.
But wasn't there something he was forgetting?
Something important?
There was… a fight. He thought. No, a battle. Hundreds upon hundreds of men, coming at me from every direction. A storm of gunfire… So much pain…
He remembered, now. He'd fought, honorably and bravely, but he succumbed in the end.
So what was he doing in a restaurant with Aerith, then?
As Zack's awareness began to stir within the dream, a disquieting sensation washed over him.
The music that had played softly in the background began to fade, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. It was a shift that set his instincts on edge.
He turned his attention to Aerith, who sat across from him just as she had before, bathed in the same warm candlelight. But as he gazed into her eyes, a chill coursed through him.
The expression on her face was an unsettling departure from the joy and laughter that had filled the moments before.
Her eyes, once filled with laughter, now held a haunting and alien depth. There was a profound sorrow and a hint of resignation in her gaze, as if she held a secret too heavy to bear.
Her radiant smile had vanished, replaced by a solemn and distant demeanor.
Zack's heart clenched as it quickened, a growing unease settling in his chest. He tried to reach out to her, to speak, but the words caught in his throat.
Abruptly, the music started back up as the world around Zack began to fracture and crumble.
The restaurant flickered and distorted, its walls and furnishings losing their coherence. Tables shattered into fragments of light, and chairs melted into wisps of shadow.
The soft glow which had bathed the scene dimmed, casting long, eerie shadows that stretched and twisted.
Aerith, who had been sitting across from him, seemed to unravel like a mirage in the desert. Her form fractured into shards of light, each one carrying a different emotion— joy, sorrow, love, and despair— all intermingling in a chaotic dance of existence.
The music which had played so harmoniously earlier transformed into chaotic, discordant notes which reverberated like a dissonant symphony, each instrument in the orchestra playing its own tune.
"No!" He reached Aerith, but she was already gone.
Then, the very ground beneath Zack's feet crumbled away as the music died, leaving him suspended in a void of infinite darkness.
Panic, anguish and anger surged within him, his voice echoing in the emptiness.
"What is this!?" Zack shouted into the void, his frustration and confusion palpable. "Who's doing this? Answer me!"
In response, a faint voice reached out to him, a whisper that danced at the edges of his perception. But the words were muffled, as if they came from a distant and ethereal realm.
"I can't hear you!" Zack exclaimed, straining his senses but hearing nothing.
Desperate to communicate with the enigmatic presence that seemed to linger in the darkness, Zack once again called out, his voice echoing into the void.
"Who's there? What do you want?"
As Zack's voice echoed into the darkness, his desperation to communicate with the mysterious presence intensified. He strained his senses, seeking any sign of response.
And then, amidst the obsidian void, a solitary mote of light appeared, a distant glimmer in the impenetrable blackness. It beckoned to him, a beacon of hope amidst the uncertainty.
Instinctively, Zack reached out toward the approaching light.
But as he drew closer, the mote of light began to intensify, growing brighter and more radiant by the moment.
Its brilliance became blinding, forcing him to shield his eyes against the overwhelming luminance.
The light continued to expand, enveloping Zack and the world around him in its incandescent embrace.
His senses blurred, and once again, he felt himself losing grip over his consciousness, like a traveler being pulled into the depths of a cosmic whirlpool, with no certainty of where it would lead.
oooo
Zack began to stir himself awake. His eyelids felt heavy, weighed down by the remnants of a deep slumber, and they reluctantly began to part.
The world came into view in hazy fragments, disorienting him. The surroundings were unfamiliar, a blur of colors and shapes that refused to coalesce into clarity.
Every movement felt like an arduous journey, his limbs heavy and uncooperative. He closed his eyes.
A dream…?
Lethargy clung to him like a shroud, and a deep sense of exhaustion weighed him down, as if he had expended every ounce of his strength.
Despite this, Zack made a conscious effort to gather his thoughts. Slowly, with great effort, he attempted to assess his current condition.
One sensation came into focus— he was warm.
The warmth seemed to emanate from his surroundings, as if the Sun's rays were gently caressing him.
No. He thought. Not the Sun.
As his senses gradually reasserted themselves, he realized that he was covered by a sheet. It was rough and woolen, far from luxurious, but it served its purpose well.
Despite his lingering disorientation, Zack found solace in the warmth of his covers, a simple yet vital comfort that hinted at a semblance of safety and care. It was a small but significant reassurance in the midst of his overwhelming confusion.
"Finally awake, are we?" A voice tore through his haze of fatigue.
The voice, distinctly male, jolted Zack from his sluggish state.
Eyes of glowing blue snapped open in response, but the sudden flood of light pierced through his consciousness like a searing lance, eliciting an immediate headache.
"Agh." Zack tried to say, but only let out a weak grunt. He forced his eyes shut, a vain measure to stop the pain.
Letting out a groan of discomfort, he struggled to regain his bearings.
"Oh, dear. My apologies— I didn't mean to give you a fright." The man's voice offered a faint apology for startling him, and Zack's clouded thoughts gradually coalesced.
He managed to utter a single word, his voice weak, a little raspy from disuse and dehydration.
"Who..."
In response, the man chuckled softly, a reassuring sound that held a trace of warmth. Zack then heard the sound of footsteps moving to his left, followed by the gentle rustle of curtains being drawn.
"There, that should help a little." The man said.
With the curtains now closed, Zack slowly opened his eyes to see a rather modest and borderline ramshackle room, devoid of almost any form of furniture or contents.
The walls, constructed from weathered wooden planks, seemed to have seen better days. Their surfaces were rough and uneven, marked by the scars of time.
The floor beneath him didn't look much better. A sense of unevenness pervaded the room, as if the very foundation had settled over time.
As expected, the floorboards creaked as the man who had brought him here took a few steps forward, making his strange cat-ear headband jiggle.
"'tis heartening to see that you have finally awoken." He said. "I was beginning to wonder if you ever would."
"Where am I?" Zack managed to ask, his voice still weak.
The man, giving him a nod, replied. "You find yourself in my humble abode, near the outskirts of a settlement at the Central Shroud. A quiet little corner of the world, one might say."
"The Central Shroud?" Zack repeated, his bewilderment growing. He had never seen or heard of a territory by that name, and it wasn't a place he could recall from any map or memory. "How far is that from Midgar?"
He pondered the possibility that he might not be too distant from Midgar if this stranger had brought him here. However, the man's response did little to clear the fog of confusion.
"Can't say I've ever heard of a place like that." The man admitted, confusion in his tone. "Though, I'm but a simple farmer, and keep to myself and my own."
Zack's incredulous tone persisted as he tried to convey the significance of Midgar. "You haven't heard about Midgar— the city of Mako? Headed by the ShinRa company?"
The farmer shook his head, though there was a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. "Mako, ShinRa? Perchance, do you hail from the nation of Doma in the Far East?"
"Doma? I'm from... Midgar. It's a massive city, one of the largest in the world—" Zack explained, but his words were interrupted by a sudden fit of coughing.
It left him breathless.
What the heck is wrong with me? He thought. He hadn't been this sick and weak since, well… he couldn't even remember.
The farmer quickly moved to help Zack, offering him a cup of water.
Zack gratefully accepted it and took a few sips, soothing his dry throat. He leaned back, still recovering from the coughing fit.
The man, now more concerned for Zack's well-being, spoke with empathy. "Take your time, friend. There is no need to rush. Recover your strength first, and we can resume this conversation when you're feeling better."
"R-right." Zack replied with gratitude. "I owe ya one. Thanks."
"I'll hold you to that." The farmer said with a smirk. "Few things need to be done around here and I've not the time for them all. For now, however, rest. I'll send someone in to bring you food."
And then he paused, shaking his head and looking sheepish. "Oh, I'm sorry. I suppose I should introduce myself: the name's O'lhah."
Zack gave the man a smile. "Zack. Zack Fair."
"An odd name, but then you are foreign… well met and well come, Zack Fair." With a reassuring smile, the man exited the room, leaving Zack to his much-needed recovery.
He stared at the door for a few moments before sighing and shifting in his bed.
As Zack took another sip of the water from his cup, he stopped to truly look at it.
It was a simple clay cup— he couldn't help but notice the amateurish craftsmanship evident in its design. It was a humble vessel, shaped with a practical rather than artistic intent.
But why would anyone do that when they can buy utensils at dirt cheap prices? He thought to himself. Even the worst off under the plate had decent, well… plates and cups.
He'd seen many a shop peddling them in his time with Aerith. The prices never seemed prohibitively expensive, even from before he'd joined up with ShinRa.
Yet, as he held the cup in his hands, a peculiar sensation washed over him— a fleeting memory, like a whisper in the recesses of his mind.
It was a recollection of something inexplicable and surreal, of a moment when he had faced his own death and found himself in a place far removed from anything he had known.
But that couldn't have been real, could it? The thought left him with a sense of disquiet.
Zack's instinctive reach for a nonexistent handle left him momentarily disoriented. His gaze darted toward the side of the bed, but there was nothing there to grasp.
In that moment, another vivid image flashed in his mind— a memory that cut through the haze of confusion. It was Cloud, kneeling above him in the rain, blood on his cheek and hair, holding the Buster Sword— the one I gave him.
The words echoed in his mind, and Zack muttered them to himself. "My honor, my dreams..."
Seized by a deep, almost primal need, Zack mustered every ounce of his remaining strength to push himself off the bed.
Each movement was a laborious effort, and he struggled to take the measly five steps required to reach the window.
With a determined resolve, he managed to reach the window, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. With trembling hands, he grasped the curtains and pulled them open, revealing a sight that left him utterly bewildered.
Outside of the window lay a thick and lush forest, its dense canopy of trees forming a verdant expanse that seemed to stretch on without end.
Towering trunks, draped in moss and vines, reached skyward, their foliage creating a natural canopy that filtered the sunlight, casting the forest floor in dappled shadows.
The air was filled with the earthy scent of damp soil and the symphony of chirping insects. A sense of pristine wilderness enveloped the scene, as if nature itself held sway over this untamed realm.
Zack stared in astonishment at the vast and unfamiliar landscape, his mind racing with questions and confusion. This forest was unlike anything he had ever seen, and he'd basically been all over, thanks to his time in SOLDIER.
As he continued to take in the view of the forest outside the window, he was jolted from his thoughts by the sound of a nearby door opening.
Turning his gaze toward the left, he spotted a young girl emerging from the adjacent house, carrying a tray of food.
What caught Zack's attention were the distinct features of the girl— she had the same peculiar, cat-ear headband that he had noticed on the farmer he had spoken to earlier.
Wait… Zack thought back on the interaction as he saw the girl's headband ears twitch. Are those real? And is that…
His gaze turned to the girl's back, where he saw a slender, furry tail swaying back and forth with her every step.
More questions swirled within him— had he truly died, and was this some form of reincarnation?
It seemed implausible, as he still inhabited the same body he had… died in. The mysteries of his existence and his present location left him grappling for answers.
Zack couldn't help but entertain another unsettling thought— was he in "Hell"?
Couldn't be.
He staggered back to his bed and settled into a seated position, his gaze fixed on the wooden floor. The enormity of his situation left him feeling overwhelmed and at a loss for what to do next.
A knock at the door startled him, and he called out for the visitor to enter. The young girl he had seen outside, with her distinct brown catlike ears matching her neck length hair, walked into his room, carrying a tray laden with bread and stew.
She approached Zack with a warm and welcoming smile, her demeanor putting him at ease despite the unsettling circumstances.
Adorable little thing.
The aroma of the food filled the room, and Zack's stomach rumbled in response, making the girl giggle.
"Here you go, mister!" She said as she placed the tray beside his bed.
"Thanks, kid." Zack replied automatically, surprised at his own ability to adapt to the situation.
Here was a human with cat ears and tail engaging him in— wait, no. Not just those…
Zack couldn't help but focus on the little girl's other unique features— her green, slitted eyes, as well as the strange, whisker-like markings on her face.
He felt a shiver go down his spine, remembering similar eyes on a man he once called friend.
Traitor… You will pay…
"Are you all right, mister?" The girl's gentle voice and concern reached his ears, and Zack stilled as he was brought back to reality.
He forced himself to calm down, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves.
With an effort, he managed to offer her a reassuring, confident smile. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just... adjusting, I guess."
He needed to maintain a sense of composure in this unfamiliar place.
Zack decided to engage the young girl in conversation to divert her from delving too deeply into the unsettling thoughts that had been plaguing him. "What's your name, kid?"
The girl beamed at him, showing some rather sharp canines. "I'm Ar'Ho."
Before Zack could continue the conversation, the voice of her father, O'lhah, interrupted as he came into the room. "Now, now, little one. Where are your manners?"
Ar'Ho looked a touch sheepish before offering a polite bow to Zack. "It is a pleasure to meet you, sir."
"Pleasure's mine, little miss. I'm Zack."
She grinned at him again.
O'lhah gently gestured for her to continue with her previous activities.
"Good girl." He praised her with a fond smile. "Go on and play, now. Don't stray too far, you hear?"
With the joyful innocence of youth, Ar'Ho darted out of the room, paying no heed to her guardian's reminder. Her footsteps faded into the distance, her laughter carrying through the air as she embarked on her own little adventure.
O'lhah let out a sigh, his expression shifting to one of knowing amusement.
"Children..." He muttered, shaking his head with a mixture of affection and exasperation.
"She seems like a handful." Zack said, smiling a little as he began to eat his food, taking note of how this man seemed to have similar features to the girl.
He hadn't noticed the tail earlier, strangely enough, but Zack supposed he was still quite addled.
O'lhah, while sharing a knowing smile, seemed to assess Zack with curiosity. "You don't know the half of it. Have you any children of your own, I wonder?"
The question struck Zack unawares, his thoughts immediately drifting to Aerith.
However, he couldn't bring himself to voice those thoughts. Instead, he shook his head somberly, indicating that he had no children of his own.
"I was… seeing a girl." Zack ended up sharing, his voice tinged with a hint of wistfulness as he toyed with the food on his tray. "She's waiting for me."
O'lhah's interest was piqued, and he smiled, his slitted eyes reflecting curiosity. "Oh? A soldier, then? Is that what you do?"
Zack hesitated for a moment, his gaze fixed on O'lhah. "You can say that, yeah. I... I was a soldier."
Once upon a time.
"And now?" O'lhah inquired, his voice adopting a gentle tone.
Zack closed his eyes briefly, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before meeting O'lhah's gaze.
"I don't know." He admitted with genuine honesty, his voice tinged with a sense of vulnerability.
He had died and returned to life, probably in a world different from his own. He felt adrift in this unfamiliar place, lost and alone.
O'lhah's response was unexpectedly kind and reassuring. "Then I insist you stay here until you find the answer to that question."
Zack couldn't help but express his reservations, protesting O'lhah's generosity, even if it was directed toward him. "Accepting random strangers into your home?"
O'lhah stared at the man in surprise before shaking his head.
"We're in the Twelveswood, lad." He said, gesturing toward the forest lying beyond the open window. "Kindness shown to strangers is kindness received in the future. As the Matron wills it."
"The Matron." Zack muttered, his curiosity piqued. "Who...?"
O'lhah paused for a moment, seemingly taken aback by the question, but he soon composed himself.
"Oh." he began. "You are a foreigner to these lands, of course. If you wish to learn more, however, I would be honored to guide you."
Before Zack could offer a response, O'lhah gently interjected. "Of course, we can do so after you've recovered. There will be ample time to discuss such things."
Zack nodded in acknowledgment, recognizing the wisdom in O'lhah's advice.
It was strange: after being on the run for months, with everyone turning them away— except a few uncommonly kind souls, of course— it felt refreshing to have this perfect stranger welcome Zack into his home, purely out of the goodness of his heart.
"Thank you." Zack said, his gratitude sincere and heartfelt.
"You are most welcome." O'lhah replied warmly before turning to take his leave. "Well, it's about time to tend to a few things, lad. Be sure to eat up and rest."
Zack watched the farmer depart, a sense of comfort momentarily filling the room.
But as he sat alone, his gaze shifted to the tray of food before him.
"Eat up and rest, huh?" He said, not feeling particularly hungry anymore, despite the fact that he understood the importance of nourishing his body, especially now that he was recovering.
When in doubt, force it down.
With each deliberate bite, Zack strengthened his resolve. His immediate goal was clear— to regain his strength and health in this unfamiliar place.
Once he achieved that, he could shift his focus to finding a way back home.
The thought of returning to the world he knew, to Aerith, fueled him now.
"I'll be here." Her words echoed in his mind, but he did not shy away from the pain he felt— instead accepting it and taking another bite of his stew.
One step at a time.
oooo
Two weeks later…
A fortnight had passed since Zack found himself at O'lhah's home.
In that time, he had made significant progress in his recovery. The once-weakened and disoriented stranger who had arrived at the farm was no more, and in his place was a slightly stronger and less disoriented man.
On this particular day, Zack was engaged in the laborious task of carrying large sacks of feed to the barn.
He moved with purpose, his physical strength evident, yet a mild strain showed on his face— a reminder that his recovery was not yet complete.
While O'lhah considered Zack's progress remarkable by his standards, the fact remained that Zack's weakness, sustained from his arrival here, continued to assert itself.
As Zack carefully placed the sack by the side of the barn and ensured it was securely fastened, a stray thought crept into his mind like an unwelcome shadow.
What if this weakness means I'm degrading?
It cast a deep and unsettling unease over him.
Zack couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss, that his slowness to fully recover might be a sign of a deeper issue.
The troubling notion that had taken root in Zack's mind continued to weigh heavily on him. What if, like Genesis, Angeal, or Sephiroth, he began to exhibit behavior that was far from what was typically his own? The thought was chilling, and it filled him with a deep sense of turmoil.
It was a terrifying prospect— the idea that he might lose control and harm those around him.
As Zack continued to grapple with his troubling thoughts and fears, a sudden and vivid flashback overtook him.
This is…! He thought.
It was the night when Nibelheim was consumed by flames. In his mind's eye, he saw Sephiroth, standing amidst the inferno, his silhouette illuminated by the roaring blaze.
The intensity of the memory was overwhelming, and Zack could almost feel the scorching heat of the fire searing his skin. The vividness of the recollection and the emotions it stirred within him left him shaken and breathless.
With a determined will, Zack took a step forward, blinking rapidly. As fast as it had come, the scene receded into memory, and Zack once again found himself in the peaceful and familiar surroundings of the farmstead.
However, the experience had left a deep impact on him, and he couldn't help but grind his teeth.
He clenched his fists, his eyes tightly shut, and whispered to himself. "I would never become anything like that. Never."
Zack's intense thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the rustling of grass and the sound of O'lhah's voice calling after his daughter. "Be careful with that, you might hurt yourself!"
It seemed that, once again, Ar'Ho was not heeding her father's words.
She continued to run with a large shovel in her hands, her youthful exuberance leading her to ignore the warnings.
As fate would have it, she tripped on the root of a tree, and the shovel was sent flying straight toward Zack.
In an instant, Zack reacted on instinct, his reflexes honed by years of combat. With a swift and expert move, Zack sidestepped the flying shovel, narrowly avoiding any harm.
With a deft touch, he nudged down on the tip of the farm tool, causing it to spin gracefully through the air. He grabbed it by the handle's end, allowing the shovel to complete a few more spins before he brought it to a halt behind his back, much like he always did with his Buster Sword.
The young girl, Ar'Ho, looked at Zack in awe and surprise, her eyes wide with amazement at the skillful display.
Zack couldn't help but smile at her reaction, grateful that he had been able to prevent any accidents and, in the process, offer a small moment of wonder and excitement for the spirited child.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Zack looked at the young girl and smiled reassuringly. "Careful there, Ar'Ho. You almost got me with that one."
Ar'Ho's eyes sparkled with admiration as she continued to express her amazement. "That was amazing!"
Zack nodded, a warm smile on his face. "Thanks, kid."
He handed the shovel back to her but pulled it away at the last moment, his expression turning more serious. "Promise you'll be more careful?"
The young girl nodded eagerly. "Yes, Mister Zack."
"That includes not doing things like spinning it." Zack added, his voice tinged with a touch of nostalgia. "That sort of thing takes a lot of practice."
Memories of his past training with Angeal flashed through his mind. So many memories: back when the world was good and right.
"I won't spin it around, I promise."
Staring at her for a few moments, Zack finally handed the shovel back to little Ar'Ho.
She turned to her father, O'lhah, and received a nod of approval from him. "Make sure to muck the stall nice and properly now, you hear? And be more careful next time, would you?"
"Yes, papa." Ar'Ho replied, looking down.
"Good girl." He said, ruffling her hair affectionately and nudging her in the direction of the stables.
O'lhah exchanged an amused glance with Zack. Then, he turned his attention to the man with a request. "Watch over her for me for a while, would you?"
"Sure thing." Zack readily agreed. "I'll move the stone blocks a bit later."
O'lhah raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by Zack's choice of words. "But what of the firewood?"
With a grin, Zack gestured toward a sizable stack of firewood that he had already neatly piled. "Oh, I've already done that. And I've brought your sacks of feed from the neighbors, and I've, erm... Well, I've done everything on the list you gave me except the stone blocks."
O'lhah's expression shifted from surprise to genuine astonishment.
"Would that I had your strength and youthful endurance." O'lhah remarked, shaking his head with a wistful expression. "Strong, tall, and you've got great hair, too. Life just isn't fair."
Zack blinked in confusion at the unexpected compliment.
"I'm sorry?" He replied, thoroughly puzzled by O'lhah's words.
"And those eyes of yours, as pure as the sky itself." O'lhah continued, though he gave a reassuring smile at the young man's wary expression. "Do not worry— I do not intend to press you for details."
Zack, still somewhat bewildered by O'lhah's comments, couldn't help but ask. "Curious about me, huh? What brought this on? You never seemed interested in that sort of thing."
O'lhah chuckled at that. "Everyone's got their own story to tell, and from what little you've told me, it piqued my interest."
Zack couldn't blame the farmer for being curious. He was, after all, an outsider in this unfamiliar world, and his background and features were undoubtedly unusual.
"I suppose you're right."
"'tis true we farmers live the simple life." O'lhah said. "But an exciting story every once in a while livens things up, wouldn't you agree?"
"True." Zack said with a nod. "I grew up in the middle of nowhere, so I know what that was like."
"So you understand. Ar'Ho especially has been very appreciative of your stories." O'lhah shared a warm smile with Zack.
"Heh, speaking of which…" Zack took a few steps away. "I suppose I should go watch over her like you requested."
"Of course." O'lhah agreed, giving the younger man a nod. "Thank you, Zack. She'll be thrilled to have you around."
Zack made his way to the stable, where he found Ar'Ho hard at work cleaning it. The chocobo within watched the girl with interest as she moved around its territory.
Zack still couldn't help but feel a sense of relief and comfort knowing that Chocobos existed in this unfamiliar world.
It was a small but significant source of reassurance, knowing that, no matter where he'd been thrown, things could still make some sense.
The chocobo, for its part, stood patiently, occasionally shifting its weight from one foot to the other, giving Ar'Ho the space she needed to work.
Its head bobbed up and down, observing Ar'Ho's movements with curiosity. It seemed comfortable in her presence and occasionally nuzzled her gently, seeking a moment of affection and connection.
"Need a hand, Ar'Ho?" Zack asked, approaching with a friendly smile.
Ar'Ho beamed up at Zack. "Oh, Mister Zack! You're here to help?"
"Absolutely." Zack agreed with a grin. "Teamwork makes the dream work, right?"
Ar'Ho nodded enthusiastically, and together, they continued their work.
Time seemed to pass quickly, then, as they tended to the stable and the chocobo while Zack told the girl every corny joke he'd known at that age.
They weren't even funny, but Ar'Ho seemed to laugh at them regardless.
As the work concluded, the two found themselves seated just outside the stables.
Ar'Ho reached into her pack and pulled out an apple, holding it up for Zack.
Zack looked at the apple for a moment before turning back to her. "What about you?"
"I've got another one." Ar'Ho smiled, opening the pack to show.
Zack nodded and accepted the food with a warm smile. "Thank you, Ar'Ho."
Ar'Ho's eyes sparkled with innocence as she responded. "Best friends don't need to thank each other!"
Zack couldn't help but chuckle at her response.
"Best friends, huh?" He said and took a bite. "Won't the other kids be jealous?"
But at the mention of them, Ar'Ho's expression changed. Her catlike ears drooped, and she lowered her head, a hint of sadness in her eyes.
"They don't like me, us. Me and papa." She said. "They don't want us at the settlement, that's why we live far away from it."
Zack's first instinct was to disagree, to reassure her that people couldn't be that unkind, but then he recalled the odd and distant behavior that some of the villagers had displayed when he had briefly visited Bentbranch's outskirts.
Oddly enough, that had also been the day he'd learned that this world was full of different races of people living together.
He didn't know what they were called, aside from O'lhah's race, the Miqo'te.
Still, Ar'Ho's words left a sour taste in his mouth, and he realized there might be some truth to what she'd just said.
To lift her spirits, Zack grabbed a nearby stick and began to expertly spin it, much like he had done with the shovel earlier.
Ar'Ho's eyes sparkled with excitement as she watched, and she couldn't help but get swept up in the display.
"Could you do that again?"
Zack obliged, performing each requested move with flair and a sense of playfulness.
The air filled with Ar'Ho's laughter, and for a time, everything was right with the world.
oooo
Zack is slowly recovering. Physically, he will be fine, but the stain of his mental trauma… That's a little different.
Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think.
oooo
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