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Mideel's mayor was a small, nervous man with wide rabbit-eyes and a pronounced stutter. Then again, nearly everyone looked small next to Sephiroth, and Zack suspected the rest was just a side effect. Sephiroth could probably make President Shinra stammer like a schoolboy if he put his mind to it.
Shifting on his feet, Zack leaned up against the side of the chocobo he'd been assigned, waiting for Sephiroth to finish grilling the mayor so they could go. From the looks of things, half of Mideel had turned out to stare, and though Sephiroth hid it well, Zack didn't think the man was too very pleased at the scrutiny. Some very tiny part of Zack wondered if it hadn't been a mistake for Sephiroth to drag Zack and only Zack all the way out here, worryingly far from anything like backup. Assassins were always a possibility, and Mideel wasn't exactly the heart of Shinra territory.
That was just how Sephiroth did things, though, at least if he thought you had a shot at becoming a SOLDIER First Class. Zack had already been warned.
"Get used to being dragged halfway across the planet," the hulking guy from his hand-to-hand training had said. "You've got potential, and the General's going to run you ragged until he figures out what you're made of."
He'd thought Titus was joking, or at least embellishing a bit. That was before Sephiroth told him to requisition a chocobo, and the paperwork he'd signed off on hadn't been for a one-time use.
The edge of the saddle bit briefly into his shoulder as his bird shifted, half-lifting one foot to curl her claws and balance on her knuckles, her head tilting to the left as she fixed him with a dubious stare. He couldn't say he blamed her--it'd been almost a year since he'd been in the saddle--but he was pretty sure they'd suit each other just fine. He was a good enough rider to keep things interesting for a bird as fine as the white, and Skadi was aloof even for a hen, barely giving Sephiroth's bird a second glance while Zack was unloading them from the ship.
Not that Sephiroth's black had made a nuisance of himself. Draugr was too well-trained for that, eyeing Zack with calm deliberation before deciding that Zack possibly had a right to have his hand on Draugr's reins and just maybe wouldn't need killing today. At least Zack wouldn't have to worry that nesting would be this pair's priority, because there was nothing more embarrassing than--
A swirl of black caught his attention as Sephiroth turned away from the mayor, striding towards Zack and their waiting birds. Zack didn't think it was his imagination that Sephiroth began to frown as soon as the man laid eyes on them, green eyes flicking coolly between Zack and the white chocobo as a faint line appeared between pale brows.
"We ready to go, sir?" Zack asked, not waiting to be debriefed and making no attempt to hide his curiosity over that frown, either. It still bothered him--really, really bothered him--that Sephiroth was caught up short by the sheer novelty of someone asking him questions, eyeing Zack as if waiting to see what he'd do next.
"Yes," Sephiroth said, which...certainly did answer Zack's question, though he wasn't sure if he could count that as progress or not. That was okay, though. They had plenty of time to work on small talk.
Zack handed over Draugr's reins with a smile, and that earned him a look, too. So far Sephiroth had shrugged off his attempts at friendliness like it was something to puzzle over later, but this time he didn't immediately swing into the saddle like Zack expected him to. Glancing at the white chocobo again, Sephiroth's frown grew more pronounced, lips pursing in a hard line before he spoke.
"You shouldn't have let them single you out like that," he said, and for once Zack could hear other notes lurking beneath the calm tone of Sephiroth's voice. Frustration, a hint of admonition, and...was that concern?
"Uh...single me out?" Zack asked, peering over his shoulder at Skadi. Eyes as green as her namesake's stared back at him, unimpressed, but she stood like a rock under his shoulder, her crest smooth, posture relaxed.
The frustration had actually made it to Sephiroth's face by the time Zack turned back, but there seemed to be a touch of embarrassment as well. "I've observed behavior which...often seems like jealousy," Sephiroth said in a low voice, intensity not masking its uncertainty, "when others are promoted too quickly. A bird that color will stand out."
Zack's eyes wanted to go wide, because it certainly sounded like Sephiroth was worried he'd be making a target of himself. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to tease him about that, though, because what if Sephiroth got the wrong idea and stopped?
"Yeah, probably," Zack admitted, then shrugged before Sephiroth could get too upset with his flippant response. "But she's a forest chocobo. Mideel's famous for them, but we had plenty in Gongaga, too. I grew up around birds like her."
Sephiroth still didn't look convinced, so Zack let his smile go wide and just the littlest bit smug, folding his arms across his chest. "Okay, maybe they were trying to get me in over my head. But they did me a favor, to tell you the truth. I asked around, and you like to test folks on monster clean-up, right? Well, like I said. Skadi's a forest chocobo. She's three times the tracker I'll ever be, and she'll jump like she's swallowed a Levitate materia. That'll come in handy no matter where we go. I'll just have to work harder to make up for her color, that's all."
Sephiroth didn't move for a long moment, giving him a look neither impressed nor relieved but listening. When Sephiroth nodded at last, Zack didn't feel so much like he'd passed a test as that his decision had been considered and had met with approval.
"We're heading east," was all Sephiroth said, tossing the reins over Draugr's head and vaulting easily into the saddle, the black standing like a statue as Sephiroth settled.
"And what kind of beasties are we tracking?" Zack asked, turning to do the same.
The trickiest part in mounting a chocobo was that instant when you swung your leg over its back, because even a bad chocobo was fast enough to move completely out from under you and leave you sitting in the dust. The ones the cadets practiced with were notorious for it. Whoever had thought it'd be funny to give him a white chocobo hadn't gone so far as to give him a trainer bird, at least; Skadi was quality, trained and dependable. She waited until he was firmly in the saddle before giving a massive shrug that jolted him forward, his legs and her wings arranging themselves to her liking. He'd been waiting for that that, though--they couldn't expect to know each other like Sephiroth and Draugr did--so he managed to keep himself on her back instead of taking a quick flight over her head.
Besides, Sephiroth was watching the entire thing, and even if he had been pitched off like a novice, he'd have done his best to look like he'd meant for that to happen.
"The people here call them fastings," Sephiroth said once he seemed satisfied Zack would be staying in the saddle, "because they're quick and they're hungry. Singly it seems they prefer small game, but as their population has increased, they've begun to hunt in packs."
"And that's where we step in?"
Anyone else would have smirked, sharp and arrogant, and tossed off a boast to boost either Zack's confidence or his own. Sephiroth merely nodded again, turning Draugr to face the road. "I'm not certain why they waited so long to report this to Shinra," Sephiroth added suddenly, looking at the trees, not at Zack. "The mayor said the pack is almost thirty strong."
Zack didn't have the heart to tell him that the mayor probably had reported it earlier and had simply been ignored.
***
The thin ribbons of Draugr's reins looked quite absurd in his hand, as polished as the leather of his glove and as impractical. They were too flimsy to haul around the head of a warbird, would immediately break in a contest between Draugr's strength and his own. In truth he barely needed them at all; Draugr answered to the slightest pressure of leg, leaving his rider's hands free to attack or to cast. The only things the showy reins were good for was reassuring civilians that the bird was under control and giving Sephiroth something to think about other than the perplexing SOLDIER at his back.
He knew it was his own fault. He shouldn't allow himself to be so confused by one man, however unusual. After the month they'd spent in training, he'd satisfied himself that Zack could follow orders to the letter despite the younger man's unpredictability. There was no question that Zack had deserved his advancement to the Second Class rank. There was also no reason for Sephiroth to be testing him so quickly for another promotion. It would create waves; he knew that intimately.
Staring at the forest ahead, Sephiroth reminded himself yet again that Zack had potential, that denying him a chance to prove it merely to make the less-skilled happy would be a grave disservice. He wasn't a politician. He didn't have to curry favor with his subordinates.
Zack looked comfortably at ease on the unfamiliar bird, still wearing that odd half-smile when Sephiroth glanced back. It was an expression that rarely faded entirely, even when Zack was standing at strict salute, though it retreated to his eyes then. Sephiroth couldn't imagine what inspired that near-constant smile, and he found himself dwelling on it at the oddest of times, trying and failing to make sense of the senseless.
Even more incomprehensible was the notion that Zack seemed to want to involve him in those smiles, though he couldn't think of a single thing he might have done to invite such behavior. Zack wasn't like the others who'd attempted to get close to Sephiroth in the past. His motives were unclear, his methods unusual at best, and as such they stayed fixed in Sephiroth's mind, defying easy dismissal. He didn't understand Zack, and it was slowly driving him to distraction.
Sighing very quietly to himself, Sephiroth kept his eyes rigidly forward, denying himself another glance at the man. It wasn't as if watching Zack would do any good...although it might give him some forewarning before Zack came up with something outlandish. Again. Until he solved the puzzle Zack represented, he would simply have to grow used to that confusing presence at his back.
***
The forest that surrounded Mideel was thick and lush, far more choked with underbrush than the dryer woods around Gongaga. Close to town, there was new growth everywhere, saplings shooting up aggressively where older trees had been logged and carted away, but the trees of the deeper woods were nearly as tangled with age. Curtains of ivy and wisteria bowed the branches all around them, and moss grew so thickly over everything, it was useless to try and tell direction by it. Windfalls with still-damp roots already wore a thick carpet of green, though they could only have been lying for a few days. The hard feet of their chocobos were nearly silent, the thick cushion of dead leaves and spongy, shredded bark making little noise beneath their broad claws. Zack almost expected the air itself to be green.
Sephiroth was practically a ghost on his black chocobo, though the silver hair was rather distinctive. Zack grinned to himself, amused that the General would object to Skadi's color when his own wasn't much better, but then he had to wonder whether Sephiroth spoke from experience. And if he did, then why did he keep his hair so long? It was practically like waving a flag.
Zack had had one other clear warning from the SOLDIERs he'd talked to, so he wasn't too surprised when the first hour dragged into a second with no sign of either the fasting pack or a rest stop. Be prepared for a long ride, they'd all said--every one of them--shaking their heads. The General isn't going to give up for the night and try again later. He keeps going until the job is finished.
Digging his fingers absently into the feathers at the base of Skadi's long neck, Zack skritched an apology for the boring ride. She seemed like a no-nonsense kind of bird, true, but all chocobos liked to run. It couldn't be much fun for her to be back in the forest again and have to trudge along at a sedate walk.
Zack pulled back lightly on the reins when Sephiroth stopped and dismounted, and Skadi stopped in her tracks with a perfect parade drill snap. With a pat to tell her she'd done just what he wanted, Zack leaned far out to the right, cocking his head and arranging a wide-eyed, avid expression on his face--purely for effect--as he watched the show.
There was something disturbingly graceful about the way Sephiroth folded up into a crouch, his movements so fluid one almost forgot how powerfully he was built. While Sephiroth wasn't the tank Zack had once expected, there was solid muscle under all that leather, though he moved as lightly as someone much slighter. Even without the eyes and the striking face, it was easy to see how people could get the idea that Sephiroth wasn't quite human.
Long, gloved fingers gently brushed damp leaves from the ground, touched a bent twig and hesitated over a muddy divot in the earth. Zack's enhanced eyes could pick out the minor strangeness of the clues, but he'd never really gone in for tracking as a kid; he couldn't read the marks the way Sephiroth so obviously could. If he had to take a guess, he'd have to say that those looked like claw marks to him, but he wasn't entirely certain if they'd been made while running or walking, or how many creatures had passed, or how long ago.
To be perfectly honest, he was far more interested in the rapt way Sephiroth studied the tracks, oblivious to the fact that his long hair was nearly dragging in the dirt.
"You really enjoy this, don't you?" Zack asked, a knowing smile curving his lips, and--
Damn. Wrong thing to say. He hadn't expected Sephiroth to tense up like that, not angry, but like he thought Zack was accusing him of something.
It probably would have been better to shut up, maybe even apologize, but the stiff line of Sephiroth's shoulders urged him to keep going, make things better.
"The whole 'sneaking up on something nasty' thing," he added, intentionally keeping his voice as light as before. "Never mind that it's probably meaner than both of us."
"It's our mission," Sephiroth said, not quite relaxing.
"Doesn't mean it can't be fun," Zack said, ready with a grin when Sephiroth cast a perplexed look over one shoulder. "So? Are we playing hide-and-seek or follow the leader?"
"It's not a game," the General said as he rose, his tone as severe as Zack had yet heard it. "There are people counting on us to do our job properly. These creatures are, as you say, dangerous."
Not letting his smile slip, Zack nodded once, gently.
"It wouldn't be a fair fight if they weren't."
Sephiroth didn't scoff as he'd feared or laugh as he'd hoped. The man just stood there, staring at Zack with wide, blank eyes, like Zack had been speaking another language. Maybe he had been--and then again, maybe not, because something stole faintly over Sephiroth's face as Zack watched, something that could have been wistfulness or realization or...just about anything, really. Zack didn't know enough to interpret it with any certainty, but he did know--okay, he suspected very strongly--that seeing that look at all was a privilege most people never got.
Pale lashes fluttered as Sephiroth seemed to realize he was staring, and with a blink, that odd expression was shuttered quickly away. That just made him look defensive, though, maybe even embarrassed, and Zack had to struggle not to give himself away with an understanding look.
"I believe it would be hide-and-seek," Sephiroth said, turning away to swing into the saddle once more, where he gathered up the reins with more attention than the task really needed. "The pack has...scattered, correct?"
You're asking me? Zack almost said, on the verge of reminding Sephiroth of his indifferent tracking skills, then bit his tongue at the last moment. That wasn't what Sephiroth was asking.
He was very glad Sephiroth wasn't looking at him just then. Very glad.
Sephiroth shrugged slightly when Zack didn't correct him on the mechanics of the game, gazing out into the trees with an openly curious look, more animated--no, more engaged--than Zack had yet seen him. "And now they're waiting for us to come to them."
"Why doesn't that sound promising?" Zack asked, bitching because it was better than anything else he could think of to do at that moment.
Sephiroth looked back at him, rapt interest still lightening the habitual solemnity of his features. "Perhaps," Sephiroth offered, "because they are...'meaner' than us."
Holy shit.
Zack's jaw really wanted to drop, but he couldn't let it. He needed it to smile with before the moment passed and Sephiroth got the wrong idea, and Zack didn't stop smiling until he was grinning outright. Why had he ever thought that General Sephiroth wouldn't be a quick study?
Sephiroth was still giving him that look, and Zack wouldn't be surprised if Sephiroth had worn the exact same expression through all his classes or the first time he'd swung that oversized sword of his. Sephiroth was swinging now, seeing how this worked, and Zack was more than happy to let Sephiroth try out those new moves on him.
"Okay, good point," Zack said, nudging Skadi to close the gap between them and their darker companions. "But just so you know, I get a whole lot meaner the closer it gets to my bedtime."
Saying nothing for a long moment, Sephiroth's eyes bored into Zack's own with a sober, searching look before the man finally nodded. "Perhaps that will become useful," he said as Draugr stepped out in the steady, rocking pace of a chocobo's march.
Zack didn't know whether that was supposed to be banter or a simple statement of fact, but he didn't much care. Sephiroth seemed willing to play along, so he had to be doing something right. As far as Zack was concerned, it was the next best thing to an invitation.
***
Casting a glance at the few scraps of sky still visible through the leaves, Sephiroth was forced to admit that the growing darkness wasn't just the trees getting thicker. They'd been riding for hours, and now nightfall was fast approaching, sunset bleeding through the thick weave of branches overhead. They should have come across the pack by now, but all they'd found was the pack's leavings: a few scraps of spotted brown pelt, likely a deer; splintered hollow bones and a few white feathers; the smashed remains of a pair of Crysales, uneaten. The carcasses of the bloated grubs were still fresh when they came upon the dead monsters, pulped insides glistening white against the dark earth.
Sephiroth had never heard of fastings before, but there seemed to be new breeds of monster cropping up every month, old creatures mutating into new forms and learning new habits without warning. There had always been dragons, or so he'd been told, but they used to be more reclusive, less aggressive. The Snow maids used to help travelers, not freeze them or lead them astray. Perhaps the fastings had once been something quite different, or perhaps they'd merely become smarter and bolder, less apt to hide from humans.
Zack had drawn up to his side as he studied the Crysales from the saddle, their chocobos standing so close in the narrow clearing that their riders' knees almost brushed. It wouldn't be fair to say that Zack had lost his casual air, but the smile had been replaced by a concerned and thoughtful frown. The fact that Zack was neither panicking nor blustering raised Sephiroth's opinion of him immensely.
"That's fresh," Zack said, keeping his voice down, though he glanced at Sephiroth for confirmation.
"Within the last hour," Sephiroth agreed, "perhaps less. I believe we may be catching up."
"Or they're getting closer to us," Zack countered, though he didn't seem especially troubled by it. If the odd half-smile he sported was any indication, Zack was looking forward to it, as if to a challenge.
A fair fight, Sephiroth mused, wondering if there could possibly be any such thing. Sheer numbers were his enemy, and time and exhaustion as well, but not people. Not things. He had to concede that exterminating monsters was far preferable to razing villages, but he wasn't certain he was allowed to be so relieved at the difference. He'd learned his skills for the same purpose, whether or not his quarry had claws and...'meanness' on its side.
"You sound pleased," he heard himself say and had to school his features to hide his surprise. He didn't know where that had come from; he certainly hadn't intended to speak, though he'd admit he was curious.
"Well," Zack said, "we've been all over this forest without seeing a thing, but it just got too quiet, you know? I don't even hear any insects anymore. To tell you the truth, the suspense was killing me."
"And a fight would be better?" He'd noticed the quiet, but he hadn't been certain Zack had; that awareness of their surroundings pleased him.
Zack's smile became a grin as Sephiroth watched, confident but perhaps not overconfident. "At least then I'd know what we were up against, sir," Zack offered, and Sephiroth nearly surprised himself again.
No, he almost said, don't call me that. Go back to the other--
But there wasn't an 'other.' He was a general, and Zack was...Zack. Who was looking at Sephiroth like he'd caught the unvoiced protest and filed it away like a standing order.
Sephiroth wanted to ask--demand--what exactly Zack thought he was doing, but there simply wasn't time.
"You're about to get your wish," Sephiroth said instead. "They're in the trees."
"Yeah," Zack said, but his voice was all but lost in the strangest sound Sephiroth had ever heard.
From all around them came a grating rasp that made him think first of locusts and then of snakes, the rattle-tailed serpents from the desert surrounding Gold Saucer. The crests of their chocobos stood up stiffly as tail feathers fanned, Zack's white clacking her beak in warning. As the sound grew louder, even Draugr fretted under him, training alone keeping the black steady. That was all Sephiroth needed to grasp the purpose of that sawing drone. The noise would have startled any ordinary animal into bolting, and any man as well--
Spinning Draugr in place with firm pressure of leg and knee, Sephiroth drew his sword and continued the arc as the first fasting dropped from above to strike at what should have been their unprotected backs.
His initial impression was of teeth, triple rows of needle fangs set in a gaping mouth with a shark's underslung jaw. Orange-gold eyes glared at him from a round face haloed by a bristle-stiff black mane, its mottled, bark-brown fur blending in with the gloom under the trees. It shrieked like a wounded cat when Masamune bit into its chest, and Sephiroth stiffened his arm as he felt the thing catch there briefly, thrashing and squalling. Taloned paws swept up to grip hand-like at the blade, spine curling tight as the back legs drew in to kick, but while it was easily the size of a Kalm Fang, its claws raked empty air until Sephiroth flicked his wrist and flung it aside.
He'd been just in time. The thing's tail lashed out as it was tumbling through the air, bony rattle-tip shivering a dry rasp made more ominous still by the long, thin spikes jutting from between the knobby ridges. He didn't know which was more likely to be poisoned, its overabundant teeth or its spiked tail, but neither were likely to be pleasant if they connected with flesh.
"Heads up!" Zack shouted, his own sword drawn and at the ready, and for a moment, the air seemed to be full of monsters. Six more dropped from the branches overhead, so closely in step the move almost seemed choreographed. They'd become used to hunting as a pack, that much was obvious.
They were also very, very fast.
He wanted to dismount, but there wasn't time. The three fastings that circled him--four, as the wounded one dragged itself closer with suicidal determination--snarled in their crouches and then shot forward in a burst of blue, Haste blurring their forms. Whipping his blade around to take the first one, he sensed the second one leaping for him even as he felt the shock through his arm of Masamune cleaving through a thick neck. The headless body rolled up in midair, and he thought at first that Draugr had stepped out of the way; he felt the bird shift under him as he reversed his swing, slamming the hand fisted on the hilt into the second fasting's deep chest.
Two screams joined the shrieking chorus at his back as Zack made his first kill, and Draugr's hitching stamp made him glance down at the chocobo's feet. The fasting he'd first wounded gave a final choked growl as Draugr finished crushing its neck, its tail lashing impotently as it kicked and shuddered, tail spikes caught by the deadweight of the decapitated fasting's carcass.
He didn't wait for the last two to come to him. Haste blued the monsters as they tried to skitter away from his blade and Draugr's thick talons, but Sephiroth was faster still, his sword flashing down and cutting off their affronted shrieks.
By the time he turned back to see how his protégé was faring, Zack had finished off the last of his three, leaning awkwardly out of the saddle to jerk his broader, shorter blade from the clutch of a fasting's ribs. Zack's white chocobo was speckled now with red, but none of it seemed to be hers; she, like Draugr, had a fasting's neck caught in her talons, but she kept lifting her foot and stomping it down again until Zack made her back away from the thing and let it go.
"Heh...it's the quiet ones you've got to watch," Zack said as he patted his bird's neck. Sephiroth was on the verge of pointing out that that was only sensible--it wasn't as if you'd hear them coming--when four streaks of blue dropped out of the trees and bolted for cover.
"There!" he said instead, leaning low over Draugr's neck as the warbird leapt from a standstill to a sprint, plunging them into the trees. He heard Zack's bird close behind, and he understood now the confidence Zack had placed in his mount. Draugr could cross mountains with ease, navigated rivers and even the shallows of oceans as if born to the water, and it barely slowed the black at all to clamber over the felled trees and snarled undergrowth in their way. Zack's white, on the other hand, wasn't slowed at all; though she wasn't as fast as Draugr, she made up for it by clearing each obstacle with prodigious leaps that seemed to cost her nothing, even with a grinning Zack hunched over her neck. At least Zack could ride.
As they threaded the narrow spaces between the trees, branches hissed past, whipping at their faces and catching grimly at Sephiroth's hair. He ignored the stinging across his cheeks, brought his hand up only once to shield his eyes, determined not to lose the creatures bounding ahead of them. The fastings slipped in and out of Haste every few strides, shooting ahead and then running normally again, and it was the regular flares of blued power that he tracked them by in the gloom. Their dark colors blended in too well with the trees, even in motion; it would be too easy to get distracted by the play of shadows and miss the beasts entirely. Some highly mistrustful part of him wondered if they had waited until now to show themselves for that very reason.
Waiting intently for the next flash of blue, Sephiroth cursed softly when he saw two lit blurs veer off from the other pair, striking out in the direction of Mideel. They couldn't afford to let any of the pack escape, not when he'd seen how dangerous they could be, and he regretted now that he'd tapped only Zack for this mission.
"Split up!" he called over his shoulder, throwing out his left arm to send Zack after the ones heading for the town. The two he'd chosen to follow were heading deeper into the forest, and he suspected that he'd find the rest of the pack there if anywhere, waiting and well-hidden.
Zack's acknowledgement was muffled by the scrabbling of Draugr's talons over a deadfall and the thump of Skadi touching down after another leap, but Sephiroth didn't need a textbook salute and response to know Zack was following his orders.
He only hoped he'd made the correct decision, sending out a boy who'd only just made Second Class with no one to watch his back. Sephiroth had intended to keep Zack close, not throw him to the monsters.
Still. Zack had already killed three of the creatures. How much trouble could a mere two of them be?
***
"Knew I should've spent more time riding," Zack chided himself, regretting every chance he'd missed to chalk up a few hours in the saddle. No matter how much you trained on the ground, riding used a completely different set of muscles, and he expected to feel it in the morning. He was feeling it now, and they'd only been out for a few hours.
Crouched low over Skadi's shoulders, he concentrated on hanging on, no matter how sore his legs got, and on not losing the targets. Skadi had probably gotten a good whiff of the fastings while she was stomping one into the ground, but even if she could track them, it would be better not to let the creatures out of their sight. Those things were way too fast, way too dangerous, and Zack couldn't risk letting them coming across some villager in the dark if he lost them.
That didn't mean it was good news when the two he was chasing turned to face him at the edge of a deep gully. Lowering their heads like bulls, they crouched to charge in eerie synchronicity, like mirror images or trained soldiers, their barbed tails giving a rattlesnake shiver of warning. It ought to be easy enough to take them out--they didn't seem to want to leap the gash in the earth, and unless they intended to cut to either side of him--
Or take to the trees--
He tried to check Skadi's charge, though he wasn't sure it would help; they were already too close, and he'd known better, damn it. He'd even had a demonstration.
He dodged the first fasting to drop from the overhanging branches, throwing out an arm and landing a lucky blow that nearly jolted him from the saddle. For a brief moment he had the thing's entire weight curved over his arm, musky fur and coiled tension and teeth that snapped just inches from his face. Then he heaved it aside, flinching back from the whip of its tail and watching the spikes that would have blinded him glide past, so near he could see the faint, oily shimmer on the tips of each spine.
That was way too close. Drawing his sword, he turned Skadi about as he tried to get a count of just what he was dealing with, seeing five, seven, eight fastings slink closer in a tightening circle. Another dropped from the trees, so close Skadi had to hop sideways like a startled sparrow and then back as it snapped at her legs. When he spun her again, she lashed out backwards and kicked the beast halfway across the clearing. Its piercing shriek made Zack turn his head to see if it would stay down for good, and he caught just a glimpse of a bloodied muzzle and caved-in ribs before something heavy crashed into his side and tackled him from Skadi's back.
Shit, he thought, and louder than that, get up, and he was making a damn good try of it, rolling over the snarling, spitting creature that had slammed into him and springing to his feet. With his sword still in his hand, thanks to every sergeant and SOLDIER that had beaten the lesson into him. He no longer had to think when he whipped the heavy blade around, fending off the creatures that circled and snapped, shifting automatically to lay open one's face and another's shoulder to the bone. It just wasn't quite enough, because the dark shape still lying at his feet went blue in an instant, and the next thing he was aware of was pain.
If things had been moving too fast before, they'd dragged to a standstill now. It took him forever to look down, to meet the fierce amber stare of the monster whose teeth were buried in his calf. He even had time to wonder, morbidly fascinated, whether it really was a smirk that pulled up the corners of the thing's wide mouth, vicious and mocking.
In the next heartbeat, everything sped up as time snapped back and left him reeling, his entire leg throbbing like someone had poured raw mako over the bite. The fasting hadn't let go yet, but it was only a matter of time before it decided to rip out a mouthful. Once that happened--
Shifting his grip on his sword, he stabbed down two-handed through the thing's chest, aiming for its heart. He knew he'd missed when the monster's jaws clamped tighter, a pained snarl bubbling from between its fangs. Zack had his own teeth clenched, refusing to make a sound, though it wasn't from anything like pride. He didn't want to encourage the rest of the pack, not when they were circling closer, getting ready to rush him and bring him down, and gods, the thing wouldn't...let...go. Was he going to have to cut its head off and wear it for the rest of the fight?
Tightening his grip on the hilt, he rocked his sword up, felt the blade bite deeply into flesh, but all he got was a furious growl and fuck, another tightening of the thing's jaws. His blood was a wet sheen on the dark fur of its muzzle, the scent sharp in the air, and if Zack could smell it this strongly, then so could the pack. And here he was, held in place like a tethered chocobo--
Zack couldn't choke back a strangled gasp as the fasting's teeth suddenly left his leg, its head thrown back on a shriek as heavy claws descended suddenly to crush the thing's hips. Skadi's shrill whistle was almost vindictive as she flared her wings, puffing her breast feathers out arrogantly as she spun and kicked at a fasting that had gotten too close, tearing open its muzzle with her blunt talons.
He brought his sword down a final time and silenced the broken-backed fasting for good. Right. It looked like he had backup after all.
One injured SOLDIER and a chocobo with an attitude against nine--now eight--scary-toothed monsters. He could live with those odds.
Expecting to be attacked at any moment, he froze along with the rest of the pack at the noise that came from the trees. Somewhere between a cough and a growl, it cut through the air and demanded instant attention, a strained silence spreading in its wake.
Movement beyond the clearing's edge caught Zack's eyes, a shifting pattern of moonlight on mottled sable. Even with his enhanced vision, he couldn't quite make out the shape of the thing until it paced unhurriedly from the trees, the pack melting aside to let it through. Nearly half again their size, it was the biggest fasting Zack had yet seen, massive and scarred, its orange eyes glaring fearlessly into Zack's own. Its stare was almost mesmeric, like watching pinpoints of flame slink closer through the dark, and he jerked his eyes away to stare at its mane instead. The thick bristles were matted into spikes--matted with blood, by the copper-sweet smell of the thing--but it was what was caught in those spikes that dragged cold fingers through the pit of his stomach. It was nothing too rare--small bones; snake vertebrae from the look of them--but the fact that they were there at all, spiked bristles threaded through the bones' hollow cores, was what gave him pause.
Animals didn't decorate themselves, not as a rule. They didn't weave bones into their hair in place of a crown, that was for certain. An animal wouldn't plan an ambush or train its pack to military precision, and if this thing was as smart as he thought it was--
He brought his sword up when he saw the pack leader drop into a crouch, planting himself as best he could with one leg threatening to give under him. The big fasting had a lot of weight to throw around, and it was going to be fast when it got down to business, but it was the rest of the pack that worried him most. They looked like they were just waiting for their cue, and if all of them came at him at once, it was only a matter of time before one of them slipped through his guard.
Twitching its tail in a short, shivery rattle, the fasting leader bared all its teeth in what could only be called a grin as the entire pack coiled back on their haunches, ready to spring.
Zack saw the flash before he heard the rumble, but the shriek-and-thunderclap of a Bolt 3 going off somewhere in the trees was unmistakable. Sephiroth, he thought, and he apparently wasn't the only one. Jerking up out of its crouch, the pack leader's head whipped around with a growl, orange eyes narrowed as it stared into the deeper woods. After the first bright snakes of lightning leapt up against the sky, the forest went quiet again, but when the wind shifted fitfully, it carried the stray scents of ash and cooked meat their way before dying again.
Coughing another grating snarl, the big fasting turned its back on Zack, flicking its tail once and bounding for the trees. Moving as one the others followed without giving Zack a second look, blueing after their leader in spurts and sprints.
Zack didn't even have time to be relieved. Sephiroth was still out there, and every fasting in the forest was probably converging on the man at that very moment.
Ignoring the pain in his leg, Zack slung his sword back into her harness and turned to his bird, throwing himself into the saddle with more speed than finesse. He didn't even try to swallow his yelp when Skadi shrugged him into place, jostling his leg painfully until he was settled to her liking.
"Shit," he muttered, clenching his hands on the reins until he stopped seeing stars. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the pain away, snapped his fingers twice and pulled down on the reins, urging Skadi to drop her head until she was looking at the fasting they'd killed.
"Skadi," he said, and she flicked her crest at him to show she was listening. "Find."
Skadi didn't talk much, and her answering "wark!" was scratchy and coarse, but there was no mistaking her enthusiasm as she took off after the pack, running like she expected to flare blue.
***
Feinting back from a lunge at his sword arm, Sephiroth felt one of Draugr's half-fanned wings brush against his back before he stepped forward again, bringing Masamune around in a glittering arc that sheared through tooth and bone. Had it been any other monster, the fasting would have run. Even with half its face cut away, the creature leapt for him again, claws outstretched to grab and tear.
Another slice stilled it for good, but there were more waiting to take its place, and he was nearly certain now that the mayor's estimate of thirty beasts had been misinformed. Zack, on the other hand, had been entirely correct; the pack had indeed been waiting for them, toying with them, though Sephiroth hadn't credited it at first. They were certainly canny enough to guard against any further uses of the Lightning materia he'd brought. After he felled half a dozen of their number in one burst, they spread out, leaving him only single targets that moved too quickly to be hit. A summon might fare better, but summoning took too much time; every second counted when one's enemies were in Haste.
When he heard the faint crashing of something large charging through the undergrowth, his first thought was that Zack must have finished with the two fastings from before, that assistance was on its way. While it might not be strictly necessary, it would be a good opportunity to observe Zack's capabilities, one less worry to have the younger man where Sephiroth could keep an eye on him. With Zack as a distraction, they could end this mission quickly.
As the sound came closer, however, it was broken up into the rustle of many feet, dozens of paws scrabbling through the heavy brush to emerge finally from the trees and join their kin.
Sizing up the newcomers with a swift glance, Sephiroth felt something cold and heavy settle in the pit of his stomach, unfamiliar tension stiffening his spine. Some of the late arrivals looked as if they'd seen fighting already, blood-spattered and still bleeding, gashed and battered and limping. Sephiroth had seen the suicidal way these creatures attacked, ignoring every wound for the chance to make a kill. They wouldn't have been driven off by even the fiercest of attacks, wouldn't have stopped until their quarry was dead.
As far as he knew, it was only himself and Zack in the woods right now, and if they hadn't met him...if they'd tangled with Zack, then....
He must have been too still for too long. Half the pack rushed him en masse, and he stepped forward to meet them, anger and self-disgust churning inside him as he attacked. This wasn't a war; there wasn't a reason to throw potential away, to waste lives on a mission that could have been done by anyone, in the safety of numbers. It wasn't that he'd forgotten that, unless he'd allowed himself to forget; he'd been thinking of the puzzle Zack represented, telling himself that he could solve it if he had enough time to observe and consider.
He couldn't put himself into Haste, but he pushed himself to match the speed of the pack as he met their charge, Masamune lashing silver trails through the air as he waded in. Each time the blade met bone, a faint shiver raced up his arm, grimly ignored. If he settled this now, perhaps he wouldn't be too late to...repair matters. It was a thought he clung to as the pack closed in, leaving him no time to access his materia or do anything but strike and deflect and strike again.
Distracted by the erratic flares of blue against the dark, he almost didn't notice the approach of one that never dropped out of Haste, a fasting bigger than any of the others glowing with solid, unbroken power. Twisting aside as it lunged for him, he found himself almost in the jaws of one of the lesser creatures and had to swing his blade awkwardly--sawing more than slashing--to avoid its teeth.
That seemed to be what the big fasting was waiting for. While Sephiroth was occupied with its smaller packmate, the large beast darted in low, feinted away from the kick Sephiroth aimed at its eyes, and twisted sharply in a rough pirouette, giving the swing of its spiked tail momentum. Sidestepping the attack only put Sephiroth in range of two other monsters, and for a moment it was all a confusing dance of reverse and riposte until the pack leader retreated with a snarl. There was something unsettling about the creature's eyes, not the calculation but the ferocity glittering in their depths, intelligence without restraint or reason.
The rumbling, breathy growl it barked out drew the rest of the pack closer, crouched low as they slunk nearer in a tightening circle, but its second bark wasn't the signal he expected. The pack sprinted forward only a few paces before stopping in their tracks, and Sephiroth hesitated himself, wondering what it meant, what could--
Heaving itself up from the carcasses at his feet, one of the fastings he'd thought dead turned as if to run on its remaining three legs, and--
Pain. The fasting's tail spikes felt like the fangs of a snake as they sank into his leg just above his boot, burning like acid as their poison--no, not poison; it was paralysis he felt seeping through him, an icy lethargy that overtook him in seconds. He knew it wouldn't last--already he could feel his body fighting to throw off the effects--but while a few moments hardly mattered against ordinary monsters, Haste evened the odds.
He didn't expect to die here, but that it would hurt quite a bit seemed inevitable.
Before he and Draugr could be mobbed, something large came storming through the trees, a ghostly shape that arced out of the forest and came down to land squarely on the spine of the nearest fasting. It wasn't paralysis that left him staring and still; it was the sight of Zack vaulting from Skadi's back, grinning and swinging the massive Buster Sword as if it weighed nothing. He'd thought Zack was dead, and it startled him how...light he felt to realize he'd been wrong.
Distracted by Zack, bunched up on their leader's orders, the pack were perfect targets for the Bolt 3 he cast once he shook off his surprise. For a brief moment, the little clearing was lit up by incandescent flares braided together in thick ropes, the whine of burning air and the rattle and growl of thunder nearly drowning out the shrieks of the fastings. Half-blinded by the glare, he saw dark shapes writhe at the base of each crackling pillar, thrashing and jerking and finally going still as smoke rose from the charred earth.
When the lightning faded at last, Sephiroth tried to blink away the dark streaks left across his vision, unexpected movement prodding him to investigate. The blackened, bleeding thing crawling towards him was barely recognizable, but it was too big to be anything but the fasting pack's leader. There was nothing but obsession in its mad orange eyes, and Sephiroth felt curiously empty as he walked forward to meet its pained scrabble, lifting Masamune and bringing the blade down across the dying creature's neck.
There was never any real sense of satisfaction after these missions, only the awareness of having another unpleasant job out of the way. It would be foolish to take these missions personally. They were only monsters, after all.
When he lifted his head to search the clearing, he found Zack leaning up against the white chocobo's shoulder, one hand fisted white-knuckled on her harness. His right leg was stretched out stiffly, uniform dark and wet from knee to boot.
"You're injured," Sephiroth said without thinking, but Zack didn't seem to mind his stating the obvious. Sephiroth could barely credit it, but Zack was still smiling, shrugging in that casual way he had that tricked people into believing him careless.
"One caught me on the ground," Zack said, begging the question of what he'd been doing out of the saddle in the first place and how he'd gotten there. "Guess one potion wasn't quite enough."
"You haven't used Cure?" Perhaps there hadn't been time, but if Zack couldn't ride and cast at the same time--
"I haven't been issued one," Zack said, mouth quirking wryly. "The only thing they sent me out with was Cover."
That was...inexcusable. Were they trying to get him killed? A cold knot of anger clenched inside Sephiroth's gut, but he bit his questions back. Zack's calm smile said the other man knew and didn't mind, and it was as much Sephiroth's fault as anyone else's. He'd been aware there might be problems, jealousy; he should have inspected Zack's gear, after he saw that particular white chocobo if not before.
It wasn't until he asked himself why he hadn't checked Zack's preparations that he realized he hadn't expected it to become an issue. Zack had an incredible amount of potential, but more than that, Zack was supposed to be...there, at Sephiroth's side, the entire time. What troubled him most was the feeling of permanence that came with that assumption, as if he'd be content to continue that state of affairs indefinitely.
"We'll have to change that," he said as he stretched out his free hand, thinking not of the Shinra stockpile of materia but whether Mideel had a merchant for such things, whether there was a cache back on the transport ship. To send someone out with him without even a Restore....what had those fools in Midgar been thinking?
Cool green mist surrounded Zack's leg, flickering dimly before it was absorbed, the faint light fading swiftly away. Testing his weight gingerly on that side, Zack stood away from his chocobo's shoulder with a relieved grin and a grateful nod.
"Thanks. And sure thing--if you'll show me how to use it."
He must be getting used to Zack; his brows arched only a little at the assumption that Sephiroth was any kind of teacher, let alone free to hand out private lessons. It was something he'd had requested of him many times in the past, but with Zack there were no...undertones, no hidden agendas. Whatever Zack's agenda turned out to be, he'd made no effort to conceal it from the beginning.
Which didn't mean Sephiroth was going to give in to his every whim--
"Very well," he heard himself say, and he hoped he didn't look as bemused as he felt afterwards.
Zack blinked at him for a moment, startled-looking but also pleased, smile stretching into a brilliant grin. "Great! Because I don't even want to know what'd happen if you messed up a Cure." Zack hesitated a moment then, cocking his head with a frown, before asking, "Uh...what does happen if you mess up a Cure? Do you grow a second head or something?"
All Sephiroth could do was stare, amazed to find himself wracking his memory for any mention of such a thing. He'd never met anyone who'd botched a Cure, wasn't sure you could other than not having enough strength left to complete the spell, but then again.... "Perhaps if your head was damaged," he said absently and was startled out of his thoughts by Zack's whoop of laughter.
Zack was perplexing when he smiled and worrisome in the grip of a grin, but he was nothing short of compelling when he laughed. Zack's wholehearted cheer was impossible to look away from, even without understanding its cause, and Zack didn't keep him in the dark for long.
"Well," Zack gasped, "if you're going to hold that against me...."
Is he suggesting his head is damaged? Sephiroth wondered helplessly, amusement dawning slowly after. He knew he could be misreading Zack entirely...and yet, it would explain so much.
"I'll consider it," Sephiroth said as mildly as he knew how, gratified that he'd hit the right note as Zack's laughter redoubled. "Can you ride yet? We should return to Mideel as soon as possible."
"Yeah?" Zack asked when he could breathe again, his eyes still bright. "We're done here, then?"
He sounded hopeful, which suggested to Sephiroth that Zack's claim to have spoken with others about Sephiroth's methods wasn't an exaggeration. "Until tomorrow," Sephiroth replied, quirking a brow at Zack's heartfelt sigh. "We should make certain no creatures escaped. Perhaps after we ride a circuit of the forest we'll be able to close this mission."
"Ouch," Zack said with a wince, sighing.
Sephiroth frowned. "Is your leg bothering you?" he asked uncertainly, wondering if the wound was worse than he'd thought or if he'd done a poor job of healing it.
"No...but when they said you were going to ride my ass into shape, I didn't think they meant it literally," Zack said, grinning ruefully as he reached up to rap his knuckles against the white chocobo's saddle. "Race you back to town?"
"Race?" Sephiroth repeated, a little confused at the sudden change in the conversation. How had they gotten from the comfort of Zack's saddle-sore posterior to a competition?
"First one back to the hotel gets dibs on the tub!" Zack replied, watching Sephiroth intently despite his cheerful grin. "Hmm, but let me guess. You think we should do some reconnaissance on the way back, don't you?"
It surprised him that Zack didn't sound put out by that at all.
"It would be prudent," Sephiroth said slowly, feeling oddly torn.
"All right...race you from the treeline, then. Don't make me insult your chocobo, General Sephiroth, sir," Zack added, eyes dancing, and for once Sephiroth didn't mind the formalities framing his name in the slightest.
Still...insult Draugr?
"Wouldn't a race require two people who can ride?"
Zack stared at him for a long moment, and he thought at first that he'd gotten it wrong. "Oh, you are on," Zack said suddenly, turning and practically flinging himself into the saddle, and Sephiroth closed his mouth before the apology could escape. "Well? What are you waiting for?"
He wasn't quite certain why he was humoring Zack or how this worked, but he climbed into the saddle, gathered up the reins, and met Zack's anticipatory grin with a look of cool challenge. It wouldn't kill him to perform outside of expectations now and then. If anything, becoming less predictable could become an asset.
As for Zack's confusing presence, he would treat it as something to be learned from and not expect too much. Likely it would be gone soon enough.
Most things worth keeping were.