It took two weeks by mountback to get from Mt. Ordeals to Mysidia – a full month, round trip, not counting the days he spent in town. He took the trip twice per year, for supplies, and never stayed longer than he had to. Even then, he looked forward to it – a soft bed for the night; ale, rather than water; despite the seasons, Mysidia always had fresh fruit; and on the rare opportunity, company to speak of.

The saddlebags were full, packed with dried and preserved foods to last the equinox. Anything he might have forgotten was either not worth it or available for barter in one of the villages nearer to the mountain. The smaller bag of fruit was a mere treat, to last until he had consumed it or until it rotted along the way.

He thought on the city in the light of the morning, and how he wouldn’t miss it, even if it weren’t true. The peach was his last taste of town, and he was enjoying it rightly until she appeared behind him.

"Kain?"

She was... He had never known what to think of her. He blamed her once, for Cecil’s sake. Later, when she was nigh unrecognizable, he accepted her as inevitable. At the time he had to, and he tried not to think of it. When all was said and done, he had done her wrong, and her mere memory served to remind him who he was. She was the blood on his hands.

Rydia last person he thought to see here; and maybe, he thought, the first he should have expected. Magic was magic was magic.

What he should have done, he should have ignored her and she might not have recognized him. But he lifted his head, and knew that he was found. He focused on the draft chocobo’s plaited halter, and didn’t say a word.

"They miss you," she said, and he didn’t doubt it. He tossed the pit and mounted his riding bird, and only with the marked advantage in height did he look at her.

"If they wanted to find me, they could."

It was a lie. Or the truth, it didn’t matter. If they cared to look, they might as well have given up – it had been years. He always said that he would find his way back... eventually.

"I miss you."

Of all the things he might have expected, he would have expected that the least. He thought, perhaps, she was lying for their sake, although he didn’t remember her ever lying before. He didn’t remember her, much, either; just the way she shamed him.

He didn’t know her at all.

And he didn’t know what to say.