Everything was silent. Rain trickled down Cloud’s face and his body tingled with sores and pain. He wondered if he was still alive, or if Tifa had survived the fall. The boy moved his head slightly to find her next to him lying face down in the damp earth. He opened his mouth to ask if she was okay. No words moved from his lips. Only gasps of air. He lifted his torso and sat up. To his surprise he wasn’t severely hurt; aside from the minor cuts and bruises on his face and arms. The only serious wound was to his left knee, which was bleeding profusely. Tifa seemed worst off. Her blue dress was tattered and drenched with black dirt and blood. There was a serious gash on her forehead bleeding like a rushing stream. The girl’s body laid in an awkward position with her legs and arms tangled in the freezing mud. Cloud began to crawl to her slowly. His body, shivering from the cold, inched its way to his fallen friend.

“Oh my God, Tifa!” a voice screeched in horror.

Cloud saw two forms approach from out of the mist of the rain. One man was Tifa’s father and the other was Strago, the old man who ran the Item Shop. Both adults had been looking for the missing children for three hours. Cloud had come out of his unconsciousness just in time to see their rescue team. Tifa’s father immediately rushed to his daughter who was spread across the wet ground. He picked her wilted body in his arms.

Strago towered over Cloud with an unyielding gaze, “I know you had something to do with this, boy. What the hell is your problem, boy! Trouble always follows you. Look at Tifa.” He points to her as the father held the body, “If she dies its you’re fault for being so damn careless. What the hell were you thinking for bringing her here, boy? On the day of her mothers death of all days.”

With all that said, Strago left Cloud in the mud and walked to Tifa’s father who had already begun to walk back to Nibelheim. The father cried as he held his daughter’s lifeless body fearing he would lose his entire family in one day. The rain was ceaseless as it came crashing down on Cloud as he lay shivering in a puddle. Lightening flashed repetitively followed by the cataclysmic blare of thunder from the black void up above. Cloud started crying because it was just then he realized he was truly alone.

Some time had passed before Cloud finally dragged himself out of the mud and headed home. He limped his way leisurely to Nibelheim. He wasn’t in any rush to get back home for the reason he feared the other villagers would be as mean as the old man Strago had been. Cloud didn’t understand why Strago was so hard on him. It wasn’t his idea to climb the mountain. He hung his head in shame, “If only I was stronger. I could’ve saved Tifa. If I wasn’t so weak!” Cloud said to himself.

From afar, Cloud saw the twinkling lights of the street lamps in Nibelheim. The rain finally calmed its onslaught on the town. The slight drizzle was a welcome. Cloud’s left leg throbbed with pain from the wound. He only wished to get home and fall asleep. Night had fallen by the time Cloud reached the hard pavement of the town streets. As he walked the long stretch of road he saw a small crowd of children gathered outside Tifa’s house. Cloud hoped to make it inside his domicile without being noticed by the horde. At that juncture, he saw a boy point in his direction. Every head present turned to Cloud. A thousand scornful eyes cursed at his existence. Each eye blaming him for Tifa’s ill-fated accident. Everyone now despised Cloud. Nobody knew the truth. That it was Tifa’s idea to climb Nibel Mountain, and Cloud followed her because he feared for her safety. He felt obligated to protect her. Locke, Sabin, Edgar, and Relm knew the truth, but failed to enlighten the rest of the town. They too were part of the circle staring down Cloud. He stopped for a moment to return an icy gaze to his opponents. Cloud began to feel fatigued and dizzy. He shook his head a bit, and walked through the threshold of his house.

His mother heard the door close. She came rushing to Cloud.

“Cloud! Where have you been!” she screamed, “Do you know…” She stopped hollering and finally noticed her son’s condition. His blond hair hung ragged and wet. His once white shirt was now ripped and dirt brown with his face looking equally filthy. Blood dripped from his torn knee onto the shinning living room floor. His mother’s anger turned to concern for her injured baby. She lifted Cloud into her arms and quickly moved him to the bathroom to clean her boy and tend his wounds. The mother took his soaking wet clothes off and put him in a soothing hot bath. Cloud sat slightly hunched forward as his mother gently scrubbed him clean. Cloud said nothing. He hadn’t talked since he arrived home. Having his mother take care of him made him feel better.

“What were you doing with Tifa so far in Nibel Mountain?” she asked softly, “You know I told you never to go there.”

Cloud didn’t respond. He wanted to tell her what really happened. Maybe then his own mother would be more understanding about the situation, but Cloud thought there was no point in explaining it to her. It wasn’t going to make anything easier for him. Tifa would still be critically injured, the townspeople would still blame him for the accident, and he would still be as weak as he was that afternoon. Cloud didn’t bother wasting his breath.

“What happened,” she asked.

Cloud didn’t respond. His mother started washing his hair. The shampoo suds ran down his head stinging the cuts on his face.

“I’m relieved you’re not too hurt. You walked away from the fall with just an injured knee. It’s a nasty cut, but I’ll take care of it,” her face turned distressing, “I only wish Tifa was as fortunate as you. She was unconscious when they brought her back to the village. She hasn’t woken up since. Poor girl is in a coma. Nobody knows when she’ll come out of it.”

Hearing the news made Cloud feel worse.

After soaking in the tub for a while, his mother pulled him out and dried the boy. She dressed him, and rubbed some mimett greens on his wounded knee then wrapped it in a bandage.

“There, that should help it heal faster,” his mother said. “Is the bandage too tight?”

Cloud nodded his head.

“What’s wrong? You haven’t spoken a single word since you walked in. Did you injure your throat?”

“I can talk,” Cloud said in almost a whisper.

His mother gave him an affectionate smile, “Its okay. If you don’t want to talk I’ll understand. You’ve had a rough day. Its not easy seeing a friend get hurt.”

After wrapping his leg up, she carried her son to his bed and set him to sleep. As he began to fall asleep she gently stroked his cheek followed by a kiss on the forehead. His mother silently crept away to leave the boy in peace. He didn’t fall asleep right away. Cloud let out a long mournful sigh, closed his eyes, and hoped Tifa would be fine by the next morning.