Work Text:
Zidane wakes with a crick in his neck.
And with a dull throbbing pulse at the base of his head, an ache along his shoulders, and the distinct taste of blood in his mouth.
There’s also a vague blurry image floating out of reach - the kind that constricts inside the cavity of his chest whispering through him that he’s forgotten something - a strong enough sensation to force his eyes to flutter open.
He blinks and then again and then a third time which allows some sense to return, along with feeling in his limbs. It’s enough that he’s just about able to distinguish the jagged rocks that fill the ceiling above him.
There’s a dull need to get up and understand his current situation - or remember it - the whisper inside his body growing ever louder - as the only thing he can pull from his memories is strange sounding gibberish, that might be voices, and a mush of colors and shapes that might be… something. The fight for concentration is a losing battle either way. The kind of battle where he got grabbed by the tail and then smashed back and forth into the ground until even a single coherent thought was beyond him.
It certainly feels like that. Though a flicker of those mushy memories tells him that’s not exactly how it went down.
He hisses air between his teeth and attempts to shift even an inch off his body, though which direction… he hasn’t exactly decided. He tries to wobble off his back, or at least turn his eyes away from the spinning ceiling. Which is spinning. Something ceilings don’t really do. Unless, of course, you were smashed over the head, or your head was smashed over the ground.
Either of those choices seem entirely possible.
Zidane shoots a hand up to hold his screaming forehead as it toils with the simplest thought and lets his body roll with the motion until he’s curled up on his side. Tail twirling around his leg in some kind of comfort and mouth gritting as a moan breaks from him.
“Ah. You awake, Zidane?”
The hand clutching his head flops down - onto something soft Zidane distinctly realizes, or, okay maybe not soft, it’s a little crunchy if anything - and despite the groaning protest throughout every fiber of his being Zidane opens his eyes and looks up.
The ghostly white face there has him throwing his head back from where it’s lying on the side against the ground and smacking against the wall behind him.
Stars explode behind his eyes.
“Quina! What the hell?!” He tries to say, but the words feel like soft liquid pouring from his mouth. His tongue, for whatever reason, decides to focus on working little painful noises from his mouth.
Quina, who’s crouched beside him, eyes nearly inches from his own, straightens up and swings their tongue. Or maybe the tongue swings inadvertently as they stand, he can’t entirely tell.
“You confused, Zidane. I understand. Head probably all messy like scrambled chocobo egg.”
“Well, now it is,” Zidane moans, turning onto his back again to sink into the crunchy cushioned surface beneath him, which stretches all the way to his legs. He breathes a little easier since he’s not about to be skewered by a white faced tongue-dragging monster and his is head no longer spinning so violently.
He blinks up at Quina who’s still lurking over him. “So… what happened? I’m guessing I got knocked out in battle or something...” He guesses, finding his voice a little less warbled than before, though the new pulsating pain at the top of his head remains. Along with the throbbing old pain at the bottom.
Quina seems surprised. “You no remember? It snow very bad and we no able fight monsters so we run away. Then you hit by monster and hit head very very hard on ground. You no wake up after that.” They crouch down to his level again.
Zidane almost instinctively sits up on his elbows and reaches around to brush his fingers along the back of his head. He finds the newly forming bump at the top of his head where he’d just gracefully smacked himself against the wall but as he spreads his palm down to the base, above the tie of his ponytail, and immediately a tidal wave of pain flashing through his senses.
Sure enough, there’s a large swelling lump there. Even a small amount of dried blood that scratches against his fingers as he grazes the tender spot before pulling as fast as he can away.
‘“Probably good idea no touch, Zidane.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, teeth grit as the agony wells with tears behind his eyes. It forces them shut and his body forward until his forehead is resting against his knees.
He vaguely remembers leaving the Blue Narciss with Quina, Steiner, and Freya to scope out the new continent they’d come across - the Lost Continent, Cid had called it.
Amarant hadn’t been interested in coming along, Vivi - with some persuasion from Zidane - had stayed behind with Dagger and Eiko, who’d refused to leave the older girl’s side. That much he remembers.
That, along with trekking out into the open ice fields and a few easy monster fights until some snow capped mountains came into view. After that there isn’t much his screaming head can find.
Vaguely, there’s something - that same blurry image from before - that feels like it has something to do with snow and monsters and more snow and his feet slipping out from under him while a foreign pressure of panic pushed against his chest and then a smashing pressure exploded his spine and sent him flying straight towards the--
But he’s not really sure. It’s all just a mix match of feelings and half-baked pictures that his memory fails to finish as he finds himself to focused on riding out the current wave of pain. Which does a good job of confirming that he’s definitely got a head injury at least.
At his shoulder, the smell of frogs and spit grows stronger, and Zidane’s entire face scrunches up around his nose.
Even with his eyes closed he knows Quina is leaning closer.
Too close, he complains to himself. The overwhelming scent of his companion suddenly an added flare to overwhelm his senses and send it all towards his complaining head.
He shifts up off his butt, despite the way his body whines in complaint, and kneels on the ground, scooting forward on his heels until he’s far enough away from Quina’s slobbering face. He’s not sure if it’s made anything better though. The spinning sensation the movement leaves him might be worse than Quina’s usual stench.
“Where are we anyway?” he asks, hoping to distract himself from the possibility that he is very close to throwing up as long as his body keeps up this miserable act. He shoots a look over his shoulder to Quina, who’s still squatting behind him expectantly. “Are Freya and Steiner here?”
Quina shakes their head. Somehow drool doesn’t go everywhere.
“They no here,” Quina announces and a pit opens in Zidane’s gut.
They’re missing Steiner and Freya and he can’t even remember the circumstances as to how the hell that happened.
Quina goes on, ignorant as always to the seriousness of their comment, “It only you and me, Zidane. I come here because ship too far away and there too much snow. You no wake up to argue so I find cave for us!”
“Cave?” And for the first time Zidane let’s himself look around. He finds the rocky ceiling from before drops down to form the walls and floor around them. A perfectly round cave, with sharp pieces of rock dangling from above, and a dead end that lies behind them with spider webs. The webs and wall they’re stuck to flicker with the orange glow of a fire that Zidane notices for the first time, is burning bright behind him.
There’s also the whistling of wind at the other end, and Zidane squints the other way, finding a dark opening camouflaged by the black abyss of night and by the sounds of it, a still roaring snow storm. Though last he remembered it’d been midday.
“How long have I been out?” He whirls around to Quina again.
Quina bounces to their feet, a large sigh blowing past their tongue. “Long enough! I starving! But I wait so we share good pair of frogs I save for later!”
Zidane makes his way onto his feet, pushing himself from his hands and knees first. He works himself up slowly, staying almost entirely bent over once he’s without the stability of the ground. He makes note that below him is a makeshift bed of leaves and grass.
“It’s probably a good idea if we hold off on the frogs, Quina. We gotta go find Steiner and Freya. They’ve gotta be wonderin’ where the hell we are by now.” Zidane heaves himself fully upright, trying to ignore how the room is swaying and Quina with it.
Though, he wonders if Steiner and Freya had continued on from where’d they’d all separated, searching for the rumored town that was supposedly nearby, or maybe they’d headed back to the ship.
Blank was steering so he’d probably stop old Rusty from forcing the group to set sail without them. And Dagger, even mute, wouldn’t let everyone leave him behind.
(Right?)
He can’t help it, but the need to catch up to the distancing group wobbles him into an attempt at a foot forward.
“Zidane, you no look good,” Quina mulls pulling Zidane from his pondering, but not the dizzy spell consuming his senses. He tries to make sense of the spotty image that is Quina’s face as they speak. “You lie down. I work on dinner.”
Zidane shakes his head - a bad idea as a lightning strike of pain shoots through the back of his neck. He holds an embarrassing whimper in as he speaks. “We don’t have time. We gotta find everyone before they get too far ahead of us.”
He’s left feeling a little proud once he’s finished talking as he doesn’t vomit, despite the roll of his stomach.
There’s a hum in response. “You say such strange things, Zidane. Why we go find others when they come to us?!” Quina finishes with a hint of something that seems to imply Zidane may have lost his mind. Very possible, considering how his vision his blurring at the edges. Expect that he knows what the hell he’s talking about.
Though, maybe not so much earlier. Maybe he should’ve brought Vivi along to explore too. The little mage’s magic packed a real punch nowadays. It could’ve been the thing to prevent this entire headache. Or maybe Eiko’s healing magic if she’d come along. Or Dagger’s for that matter, even if she wasn’t feeling one hundred percent at the moment… hell even Amarant could’ve--
No, it didn’t matter who he’d have brought along. He’d probably have gotten himself into this mess no matter what. His team didn’t deserve to carry his dead weight. Especially when they had more important stuff to deal with.
“The others are on the ship,” Zidane sighs, pushing his palm against his eye. “They’re not coming. Hell they might’ve already left. Kuja isn’t gonna wait forever after all...”
Quina looks as if they’ve licked something sour. “Why you say something like that, Zidane? Head must look like mushed up frog bits inside. Others on ship not come, but Freya and Steiner surely come.”
Admittedly, since Alexandria imploded with Zidane still inside, with Eiko and Dagger shielded beneath him, Steiner had become much more amicable towards him. In fact, it was even a little earlier when they’d parted after rescuing Dagger from Brahne that it seemed like Rusty was finally coming around. Sure the guy was a living suit of armor but he had a heart, and Zidane was just beginning to think it was extending his way. But that didn’t necessarily mean Steiner liked him yet.
Even with a screaming headache Zidane could see that.
“Steiner’s got Dagger to worry about, and he’s… still not my biggest fan. And Freya knows I can handle myself. They’re probably both waiting at the… Blue Narcissss…”
“You no seem to handle yourself right now. You flopping over like soggy pudding.”
Zidane turns to Quina who’s tipping sideways and forming doubles.
“Says the guy who’s falling over,” he shoots back.
At which point he goes face first into the ground.
---
“Zidane! We must flee! The storm is too much!”
...Yeah I know.
“Zidane! What’re you doing?! Come back!”
Whaddya think I’m doing? I’m leading them away from you guys....
“Zidane! Monster come--!”
Even in the blanket of white that surrounds his senses the body of the Blazer Beetle barreling towards him is clear and all too real as it smashes against his side, sending him careening head first into the-
---
A round of unconsciousness, dizziness, and nauseousness later and Zidane finds himself just capable enough to sit up again. His head’s still throbbing, sure - it’ll probably take Dagger or Eiko’s white magic or even a nice elixir to fully heal him of it - but it's a big improvement to the splitting pain he’d felt from smacking it face first on the rocky ground earlier. Not at all helped by smacking his head against the wall either. Makes sense that all of it had led to the grand finale of him blacking out apparently.
Though at least he’d woken up with a better understanding of the circumstances that led to his perpetual headache.
Still, it may be in his best interest to stay down. Enjoy the bed of leaves and twigs Quina had gathered from the outside forest during the first time he’d been unconscious. But unfortunately for the leaves, he’s not the kinda guy to take to bed rest. Especially when said bed is only a pile of dirt away from being an uncomfortable forest floor.
It’s a bit of a challenge but he’d much rather trudge himself over to the campfire Quina’s still burning at the center of the cave.
He’ll just take it slow.
It’s just that… the level of slow he realizes he actually needs to take it is slightly humiliating.
It’s a snail's pace to reach the radiating heat of the fire - feet barely lifting from the ground, legs shaking at the knees and hands out in preparation for an untimely tumble - that when he does finally make it across the small distance between the leaf bed and the cavefire he all but collapses to the ground. His boots stretching out a little too close to the flaming wood nearby.
Through the tips of the whispering flames Quina sits, watching him intently. Or maybe not watching him at all. It’s entirely possible that their daydreaming away on the other side and paying Zidane no mind at all. That’d be pretty typical. It’s always a bit tricky to tell what Quina’s looking at most the time - let alone thinking - as they have no pupils to follow. Their eyes ever the plain white slates. It’s quite a challenging, figuring out what goes on in their head most of the time.
Even now, Zidane has no idea what they’d been thinking...
He stretches out. Tail, limbs, and neck all creaking with the effort. He rubs his fingers to his temple where a sharp point of pain is building up again and circles it with thumb until it slightly relents, returning to a dull throb, and he blows out a sigh of relief.
A mess of noise begins then - because of course it does - and tickles that painful spot right back again. Zidane snaps his attention up across the fire to where Quina is shifting through a pile of sticks that lie off to the side. Away from the flickering embers that spark through the air.
“I think the fire’s big enough, just leave it alone for now, Quina,” Zidane tells them, not hiding the irritation in his voice. Can’t there be just a little peace and quiet? Particularly when he actually needs it. Maybe this is what he gets for driving Rusty up the walls.
He watches as Quina stops they’re shuffling, seemingly heeding his advice until, without glancing up or giving an indication they’d even heard what Zidane had said, yanks a long thin stick from the pile with an annoying amount of noise. They brandish it in front of them.
“This no for fire,” Quina proclaims, holding out their other hand that’s held in a fist. “This for dinner!”
And unexpectedly, but also expectantly, because what did he honestly expect being holed up in a frozen over hole with the most food obsessed Qu in all of Gaia, Quina turns their hand over to reveal… a dead frog.
“You know what? I don’t know what I was expecting.”
Quina impales the frog over the stick. And Zidane can’t help the blank look of judgement he makes. The kind he usually restrains. But because it’s Quina he can’t help himself, he figures.
Quina takes the frog on a stick and approaches the fire until they’re roasting the thing over the flames. In the glow of the fire the expectant look on their face grows almost manic - the way it usually does when they find a new marsh filled with frogs.
But the look softens, if Zidane could describe it as that, and those plain white eyes rise to focus on his own. “You know able expect things, Zidane, because you have trouble understand very simple things,” Quina states, like it’s a fun little fact everyone’s been privy to expect him.
Zidane waves a hand about. “Trust me, Quina, I can expect the unexpected, it’s in the job description of a thief. It’s kinda what I do.”
Quina holds the frog up and inspects it before placing it back over the flames. “That true for thief, but not true for other things. Things that are most important.”
“Oh yeah, like what?”
He tells himself it’s the fire that has sweat prickling his collar. Not the image of Dagger that flickers through his concussed head.
“You surprised when you wake up and see me, Zidane.”
Zidane feels himself spin, drawn from his mismarked thought. “I mean, you were right in my face when I woke up. Of course I was surprised…”
Quina shakes their head. “That not what I mean. It like when someone see yummy food they think they never able to eat in hundred years. That look you have when you wake up.”
He hates the twisting feeling in his chest. It’s as if Quina’s hit a nerve when he knows there’s none to hit.
“I able tell when you wake up,” they continue. “Why you no expect to see me?”
Zidane, feeling the chill blowing in from the entrance of the cave, holds his hands out towards the fire. He remembers luring the hoard of Blazer beetles away from the group as they all tried to run away. Steiner and Freya had been taking off through the snow when he’d turned back towards the monsters with the plan of assisting the escape - only to take that nasty hit a few moments later and have the world go dark.
Quina had been fleeing too, and had been the furthest away from anyone at the time. They just happened to be the last person he’d expect to see when he finally woke up.
And he won’t admit it, but he sort of figured he’d wake up and still be face down in the snow.
Sure, he’s got a team and he’s got their backs. Doesn’t mean they should be stuck babysitting his when he gets himself into a mess by his own volition because he just can’t help himself.
“You always do whatever you want,” Zidane says to the beckoning fire, the walls of the cave, and perhaps to the Qu member who sits across from him. “You do your thing and I do mine. Doesn’t bother me at all so I guess I didn’t expect to see you here - maybe Freya but...”
“Why Freya and no me?” Quina cuts in, an almost distressed sound to their voice.
The crackling of the fire answers while Zidane thinks.
“Well, she’s been putting up with me a lot longer than you or even Steiner.” He taps his boot against a loose stick that hangs from the bundle in the fire. “I figured you’d rather be out looking for frogs than stuck dealing with me,” he shrugs.
Zidane watches the fire spread to the piece he’s moved and then back up to Quina’s no longer spinning frog.
“What you talk about Zidane?”
“Huh?” Zidane looks up from the frog to meet two white blank irises. His eyes narrow a bit. “Were you not listen--”
“Why you think this something I not want to do?”
Zidane doesn’t get the chance to even open his mouth to respond before Quina goes on.
“I do what I want. That Quina way and that Qu way. I no do things I not want to!” Quina exclaims.
The fire flickers on as if absolute nonsense has not just been uttered.
“Uh… right…” Zidane offers.
Quina’s body expands in an almost huff, before they move to pull the cooking frog out from the fire and poke the stick into the ground. Zidane can’t help but admit - despite how disgusting the prospect of frog is - the thing does have a delectable looking golden crisp to it.
“Zidane,” Quina interrupts, pulling Zidane from his frog cuisine inspection. “It seem you not know very important Qu Tribe saying about food. It make sense. It probably why you always look so sad sometimes.” Quina nods.
Zidane bristles, almost a little too dramatically as the rearing of his whole body shoots a reminder of pain to the back of his head. “What’re you talking about I- I don’t look-”
Quina nods again with their whole body as if were a bow. They reach in their pocket - a thing Zidane had no idea Quina even had - to pull out another frog and press it onto a new stick. “It very famous Qu saying so I surprised you not know. It help me understand many things.”
“Well, I’m not, since, you know, I’m not a Qu.”
“That no matter! It from my tribe but it also very famous thing lots of people know. Everyone who like to eat can understand.”
Zidane sighs as Quina pokes the second frog-stick into the flames. “Alright, alright. Then tell me already.”
Quina rotates the stick for about the same amount of time as the first until satisfied. Zidane watches in awkwardness and Quina-expected confusion as his companion says nothing the entire time. They grab the two finished frog sticks and then stand, waddling around the fire until their shadow paints the cave walls and their presence towers over Zidane from where he sits on the ground.
Zidane attempts to say something but before he can Quina shoves a frog at his face.
“Here. We eat and you understand.”
Even with the golden crisp on the second frog Zidane can’t help but scrunch his face up, “You know I’m not really the biggest fan-”
The frog-stick is shoved a little more aggressively towards his nose.
“We eat. You understand.”
Zidane takes the frog-kebab with no further complaint. Besides him Quina plops down, their own frog being munched on no second sooner.
The only thing that moves the amphibian near Zidane’s mouth is the reminder that he had admittedly eaten much, much worse over the many years he’d been a member of Tantalus - the time Blank had mixed oglops into the crew’s stew comes to mind, along with the memory of sickness that had lasted for days after - and there’s a distinct feeling of Quina shooting daggers at him the longer he takes to put the darn thing in his mouth.
It’s a tentative bite but it’s a bite nonetheless and Quina gives a sound of contentment as Zidane begins to chew over the fact that the roasted frog isn’t actually as bad as he'd anticipated.
And that he actually wants another bite.
And then another.
And another.
Until eventually he’s licking his fingers clean and tossing the frogless stick into the fire after Quina’s.
He sort of expects an “I told you so” kind of look on Quina’s face, though Zidane’s not above admitting when he’s wrong, especially when it comes to food so he turns to Quina ready to intercept said look and give Quina’s culinary opinion credit where credit is-
“I always do what I want.”
Quina looks past the fire out toward the opening of the cave. Their tongue flops a bit and they turn then to Zidane and somehow, the usually unreadable expression that’s painting their face is a little less ambiguous. There’s something there that Zidane feels like he might understand.
“I no save you because I no want to,” Quina states. “I understand reason so I want to.”
Quina’s legs stretch out from beneath them and they adopt a similar pose to Zidane’s before elaborating no further.
Zidane wobbles slightly. “Oh… well thanks, I guess.” He lets his tail raise from the ground to help his balance. “Is that the Qu tribe saying then?”
Quina shakes their head.
“No. But Qu saying give me reason. It that food taste best when you with friends.” Quina turns to face him, their colorless eyes striking through him. “I ignore very simple thing but then I remember saying and it very easy understand why frogs taste more yummy now.”
It’s definitely the head injury rearing its ugly head but there’s something keeping him from making sense of whatever it is that Quina’s getting at.
And yet some distant part of him says that he should know the meaning of Quina’s mix matched words.
And even farther way, there’s a memory. One that feels like two hands grabbing him by the arms and dragging him through the snow to safety, instead of worrying about themselves.
“This reason I no want to leave you with face stuck in snow, Zidane.”
Zidane crosses his arms over his knees and chuckles. “So you saved me so your food’d taste better,” he says it slightly to himself and then shrugs. “Well, whatever the reason I’m glad you didn’t leave me there.”
“...I think you no understand what I really saying, Zidane.”
“No, I got it.” He holds his tongue from adding, it’s just always about food with you. “You’ve got your own way of making sense of things.”
“That true. But food make things easy so everyone understand. I start to realize many things when I see this. You use food and you understand many things too, Zidane.”
“Jeez, it’s really always about food with you, isn’t it?”
Zidane sags a bit, coming close to hitting Quina’s side with his shoulder.
“We should really head out soon,” he adds.
Quina shakes their head, “This what I talk about, you no realize that we no need leave.”
“Yeah, yeah… you said that before.” He’s not sure when he’d lost the strength to stay upright and coherent but he has. It’s all too easy to press his weight into the soft and warm arm beside him. “Guess I lack the Qu tribe wisdom…” He mumbles.
“That okay, Zidane. I let you know when others arrive. I cook more frog, you rest.”
The fire before him dims until his eyes fall closed and it’s gone from view. The ache in his neck fades with his ability to even think. A soft pat presses to his back before he sinks into the surrounding warmth and exhaustion radiating around him. Though his face twitches with one last confused expression, distantly wondering how it is that Quina can be so certain the others will come.
Zidane can take care of himself, they don’t have to worry about him.
He means to tell Quina this but before he can he slips away completely.
Engulfed in the warmth at his side.
---
Zidane wakes again rather suddenly, feeling like he’d only dozed off for a single minute but finding that’s very far from the truth.
Some time must have passed as he’s greeted by the red nosed, snow covered bodies and faces of Steiner and Freya the moment he opens his eyes
Freya exhales low and long and shakes her head, not unlike her, though Steiner looks entirely too relieved to see him as he wakes from the fine line between sleep and consciousness.
“Zidane! Thank goodness!” Steiner gives a small shake to his shoulder. “It’s good to see you finally awake!”
Zidane blinks in response, and sits up, from what he realizes is Quina’s mat of leaves again. “Hey… uh-- it’s good to see you too.”
Steiner huffs and stands, removing the tight grip from Zidane’s shoulder that he hadn’t been entirely aware of until it disappeared. Steiner puts it out again to help pull Zidane to his feet. “Likewise,” Steiner sniffs and then turns away, strangely not giving him a hard time for once.
Freya approaches them, a slight strain over the features of her face.
“We’ve been looking everywhere for you two. It’s good to see you’re alright, and that you were safe with Quina.”
Zidane snorts, “Yeah, I guess I owe them one for dragging me outta that snowstorm.”
He watches Steiner inhale deeply, and reach a hand up to his face that’s still hidden from view. “You most certainly do,” is what he says, sounding slightly hoarse before he marches toward the entrance of the cave now glowing with the white rays of snow reflected daylight.
Zidane turns back to Freya who’s hiding a smile under the shadow of her hat. “I figured you two had already headed back to the Blue Narciss,” Zidane notes, gaining her attention.
Freya tilts her chin up at him, her smile slipping to a more neutral expression. “Why would you figure that? We weren’t going to return to the ship without you.”
Zidane nods, not fully understanding, and then feeling realization hit him all at once. “Oh wait, makes sense. No point in going back only to stress Dagger out. Guess that’s why Steiner went along with it.”
Freya only offers him a peculiar look.
“Zidane! If you’re feeling well enough we must be returning to the Princess!” Comes Steiner’s thunderous voice from the end of the cave.
“Ah well, that’s his limit, I guess,” Zidane shakes his head and shrugs, though Freya still eyes him curiously. A similar look as the one he’d been getting from a certain Qu the previous night.
And whose presence, he notices, is now behind him.
“I’m surprised you’re still here, figured you’d be off already to find breakfast,” Zidane turns, speaking with a smirk.
Quina stands behind him, slightly bouncing in place, a long, wide smile across their face.
“I tell you, Zidane.”
Zidane cocks his head, “About what?” His attention then distracted as Freya places an elixir in his hand. “Oh, thanks Freya.” He then downs the bottle in one gulp.
“What were you saying, Quina?” He tries again just as the elixir starts to work its magic.
Quina sways with their movement, leaning back and forth on their feet but still only smiles in return. The rattling of Steiner’s armor answers instead, rapidly approaching the three of them again.
“I didn’t mean to be hasty.“ Steiner stops at Quina’s side. “Perhaps it’d be best to wait if you’re not up to travel yet, Zidane.”
Zidane tosses up a dismissive hand. “Nah I’m fine, let’s get a move on. You’re right Steiner, we’ve made Dagger wait long enough.” He pushes from the circle of his three companions, patting Steiner on the shoulder as he goes.
Steiner straightens, the apprehensive expression gone from his face. “Quite!”
Freya shakes her head and adjusts her spear at her side, “Even a concussion can’t keep you down for long it seems.”
“Of course not!” Zidane laughs tapping his chest and steps ahead, though not before turning to add, “Well, whaddya say Quina? You coming?”
Quina bounds a step closer. “Zidane, I already tell you, I follow you anywhere! You forget because you already forget Qu tribe saying.”
Zidane shakes his head, rubbing where the lump is slowly shrinking in the back. “No, I remember… I think.”
Quina follows closely at his side while the four of them head to the cave’s exit. “That good! If you remember then you understand. Next time you hit head you no think no one help you or no one come find you.”
Zidane steps into the sunlight with his friends that’s sneaking through the tops of snow covered trees. He gives a small laugh. “As long as next time saving me is something you still wanna do, Quina, I think I’ll be alright.”
Quina smiles back. “You no worry Zidane, that always something I want to do.”
Zidane finds himself at a loss, which isn’t unusual in Quina’s case, but for some reason it strikes him as unique.
He watches Quina vibrate in almost laughter and then looks to his side, finding Freya and Steiner not even an arm’s length away, talking amongst themselves.
He settles into the company as his boots flatten into the snow and the forest floor and cave is left behind them. They take a few steps and find themselves in the center of a mountain pass, snow and ice as far as the eye can see, and silent until it’s filled with a brand new voice.
“AH! There they are!”
Zidane whirls around towards the source and finds himself almost losing balance as he trips forward in the snow. The emotion that bubbles through the center of his chest is something completely foreign.
Racing towards him are, Eiko, Vivi and Dagger, with even Amarant in tow.
“Zidane! You’re alright!” Comes Vivi’s high pitched squeak of glee.
“Guys!” He explodes with laughter, stumbling towards them and almost falls backwards to the ground when Vivi and Eiko both throw themselves around each of his legs.
Steiner comes in not a second later. “Master Vivi--! Princess!! You should not be out in such conditions! You should have remained on the Blue Narciss and waited for us to return!”
“She handled herself fine, keep your nagging to a minimum,” Amarant mutters, and Freya, now at his side, snickers.
The ice fields are suddenly filled with the expected noise that always comes when their group is together. Even Dagger adds to it, despite her silence, by clunking her staff to Steiner’s armor in slight frustration when he refuses to relent his worrying. And then another to Zidane’s chest when he can’t help but respond with another hearty laugh.
“Alright guys, come on! Let’s not keep Cid and Blank waiting! Let’s head back to the ship!”
The group gives a resounding yes and they each turn to begin the trek towards the shore.
But just then, behind his shoulder, Quina mumbles something around their swaying tongue.
Zidane turns, “Huh? You say something Quina?”
Quina slightly startles, “Oh no, I not say anything. You hear wind, Zidane.”
“Okay then…” Zidane relents, deciding not to push the subject. As they walk together down the icy path he crosses his hands behind his head and offers a grin. “You know Quina, I think I owe you a stop at a marsh, as a thanks for fishing me outta the snow.”
Quina darts towards him drool flecking everywhere. “Really?!”
Zidane laughs, “Yeah, really.”
---
“I guess there somethings I understand better about friends than even you, Zidane...”