Cry of the Lost: A Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles Tale

Chapter 1

The cold wind stung his face like a thousand needles. He ran on, but he could not see very far in front of him - the torrent of rain cluttered his eyes, and a thick fog had begun to roll in. None of this mattered though. There it was again...the barking. They were close. His tattered and drenched rags, his bleeding leg, the hunger pains - none of it mattered. He looked down at the small, liquid-filled orb he held in his hands. He had to be careful. The blueprints had to be delivered - the secret, revealed.

His breath was becoming strained. He had been running for over eight hours. Or perhaps it was longer? He did not care. The barking was getting louder. He thought he could even discern voices. In this storm? Yes, there they were again...and very close. He ran faster. A tree branch caught his arm and tore away his flesh. He winced and let out a little cry, but quickly hushed himself. He could hear the movement of the brush behind him. As he turned to look behind, his foot got caught in a root, and he reeled forward. He tried to catch himself, but it was too late. The orb had been wrested from his grip by inertia, and he watched in horror as it fell and smashed upon the ground, liquid splashing everywhere.

The man let out a blood-curdling scream. He struggled to rise, mud and blood mingled upon his face. He started to run, but then let out another scream. He had sprained his ankle...no, it had to be broken. It was of no consequence. He had to try. He limped on. A howl pierced the air. He had gone only a few paces when he fell, gasping, to the ground. He clutched at his chest and then began to crawl. Suddenly, the broken man vomited and began to tremble. He rolled onto his back, looked into the sky, and stretched out his hand.

"Save us..." the man whispered.

The dogs were pulling with all their might. The men on the other ends of the leashes followed with a ravenous look that rivaled that of their animals. The group broke into a clearing and one of the dogs broke from its master's grasp. The snarling beast darted ahead at full speed and then suddenly came to a stop over a dark heap amidst the tall grass on the far side of the clearing.

"Bruno!" one of the men shouted.

Instantly, the dog turned and stood at attention as four men and four other canines came running up. The men were dressed in similar uniforms of seemingly military issue. A fifth man, dressed in a cold black suit, followed methodically behind the others. The four men parted to make way for the suited figure.

"It's him, Richter," one of the soldiers told the man in black.

As Richter moved past the soldiers, he passed a liquid-filled orb to the soldier who had addressed him.

"Hold this, Neil," Richter ordered.

Richter walked up to the cold, dark heap lying on the ground and bent over it. As he looked at the man's broken and dead body, he patted Bruno's head. Richter gently pulled open the man's vest and found a sealed envelope. He then rose, looked at the others, and nodded.