the shattered bedrock of

Red padded out into a clearing off the jungled path where a toppled log laid sideways in the two-foot tall grass and the afternoon’s fading sunlight bathed the field in warm and brilliant orange. He pawed at a cluster of weeds until only dirt remained, creating a firepit to sit around for the conversation Aerith suggested earlier.

Tifa smiled, thin but pleased, and stepped out to give Red a scratch behind his ears. “Thank you, Nanaki.”

Aerith bounded out into the grass, then plopped herself unceremoniously on the log. “This is perfect. We can make it a vigil—talk about the old Nibelheim.”

“I’ll get the firewood,” Cloud blurted out.

Surprised, they both turned to look at him, but Cloud had already pivoted back toward the woods.

When the group stops outside of Nibelheim to talk about how the town used to be, Cloud confronts difficult feelings surrounding his home being completely gone and dead. Luckily, Tifa's there to understand him.