He stood alone, and he lowered his aching head so his eyes were staring at his feet. He tried to place the familiar face he had just studied so intensely. This face seemed so familiar, it was ironic he could not match a name to it.

He looked back up and saw Kurune, Kurago, Kulock, Relm, and even Interceptor crowding around the thing that had been a ball of flames only seconds ago. They all had wide smiles on their faces. The combined joy of defeating the evil moogle and receiving this new, baby one had them jumping up and down with excitement. The cheers of Kupo! echoed of the cavern walls until it sounded like an army of moogles instead of just three.

Umaro stilled watched the chaos as Relm picked the small moogle up and gave it a hug, also remarking on how cute it was. She came running toward Umaro holding the moogle in her hands high above her head.

"Umaro, can you believe it?" she cheered loudly,"Wow, when that monster moogle fell into that sand over there, I never thought Mog would come busting out in a big trail of flames!"

Umaro stared at Relm in disbelief. Mog? How could that be Mog? He stretched out his hand to pet the moogle. He noticed the size of his hand was the same as the baby's head. He pulled his hand back, afraid he might hurt it.

"Here, Umaro. You can hold him, it's okay," Relm said gently. She pulled the saquatch's hand down and placed the moogle in it.

The cheering had stopped. All four of the others had stopped their celebration, enchanted by the way Umaro held Mog so gently.

Umaro moved his hand which held the moogle, to his eye level. He studied the face for some time until he saw the expressions in that moogle which he remembered to be Mog's. Umaro moved the moogle a little closer to his face, to smell it...

"He's gonna eat Mog!" Kurago bellowed across the room, not totally trusting Umaro yet. Kurune gave Kurago an astonished look which said, "I can't believe you just said that!" Kurago glanced at Umaro again and saw that he was only sniffing him. Kurago's face turned a light shade of pink.

Umaro left Kurago's comment unnoticed, unable to take his eyes off the tiny version of Mog. Mog sat on Umaro's hand innocently staring at anything that caught his eye. He jumped onto Umaro's shoulder, then his head, and let out a little laugh, amazed at his great view.

"I think it's about time we get out of this cave," Kulock announced. "It's starting to give me the creeps..." He looked down at his fur. "And I really would like to get this slime out of my coat."

They all agreed to leave. Umaro held them up for a minute. He pulled the carving of Mog from his sack and sat it next to the pile of sand, making sure not to get too close. He pulled out his carving knife and sculpted the current date into the statue. Kurune thought it was a nice gesture of Umaro to leave something he cared so much about as a sort of a birth marker for Mog.

Kurago led them from the circular room and down the path until they came back to the first circular room they had encountered before. Kurago started down a path and then stopped and came back into the center of the room.

"What's wrong?" Relm asked, "I'm getting kind of hungry and I don't have any food left. We have to leave here to get food. Don't you remember which one we came from?"

"Yes, of course I do," Kurago answered, a little offended. "I just thought that since we would never be here again, that maybe we could explore the other tunnels. There might be some treasure back there."

"No! I want to get clean. It feels really disgusting to be all covered in dry slime," Kulock reminded everyone again.

A vote was taken and it was five against one to stay and explore. They decided it would go faster if they split into two groups. Kurune, Kulock and Relm were to go in one group and Umaro, Kurago, and Mog in the other. But, Kurune and Kulock wanted to ask Kurago where he had disappeared to earlier, so that left just Umaro and Mog together.

After agreeing to meet back in the circular room after each path was explored, Interceptor ran off down a path. The others ran after him, picking that as their first path to explore.

Umaro and Mog were left alone in the room, listening to the far-off echoes of Relm calling Interceptor back. Umaro wasn't sure which path to take; he just started walking toward one.

It looked the same as all the others he had been down. The gold bricks leading off into an endless path of more gold bricks. He reached into his now lighter sack, and his hand came back out with two green cherries. He offered one to Mog and ate the other one, feeling a little bit of his energy return.

Something in the path ahead caught his attention after he had been walking for two or three miles. The color of the bricks changed to black. This change made the path pitch black. He was still staring ahead into the darkness when Mog climbed down into his arm, a little frightened. Umaro could understand that. If it wasn't for his night vision he would have been a little scared too.

* * *

"I'm bored. We've been waiting for Umaro for an hour. Why don't we explore another path until he gets back?" Relm asked.

"I don't know. We said we would wait after each path. But I guess that last one Interceptor ran down wouldn't really be considered a path... it was more like a dead end." Kurago said, as bored as Relm.

"We may as well be doing something. I don't know how much longer I can just sit here waiting." Kulock chimed in.

They all looked toward Kurune. She looked deep in thought. They waited for her to make a decision. Interceptor stared at her with his head cocked to the side.

"I guess we can go. I'm getting bored too. And who knows, the next one we choose could be as short as the first..."

* * *

Umaro saw the path change again, to a small tunnel of dirt. He began to recognize it as one of the Underground Tunnels he had explored and memorized years ago. He kept walking and waited until he heard the music from above, directly over his head. He looked around and saw a pile of rocks, similar to the ones in the tunnel from Narshe to Maranda.

He started to go through the process of unstacking and climbing through the rocks. He pushed Mog through first, and then followed to stack the rocks again to where the hole was almost gone. He continued on this trail and eventually, he emerged behind the Opera House.

He stood for a moment listening to the music, feeling safe since it was night, and then he heard voices coming toward him. He made sure Mog had a good grip on the hair on his head and ran toward the nearest forest to find a place to sleep.

* * *

The Moogleteers and Relm came to a wide spread of green liquid. Immediately, they all recognized it as the same path they had started in.

"I can't believe we are back to this place again." Kulock complained as he stared at the stuff that was all over him.

"So, what do we do now? I am really hungry now. Why don't we just leave?" Relm suggested.

"We can't just leave because Umaro might be waiting for us." Kurune said.

"Why don't we leave a note for him? He will eventually get tired of waiting for us and come back out this way." Relm said.

"I don't think Umaro can read." Kurago said.

"Just leave the note and let's go!" Kulock said, now grumpy. "He might not be able to read it but he will know it is from us and that we came this way."

Feeling bad about the whole thing, Kurune wrote Umaro's name on a sheet of paper and left it laying on the ground. Relm picked up Interceptor and started to walk through the greenish liquid and called the others toward her. They all climbed in and started back toward Maranda.

Kurune shook her head. "Thankupo. But I'm not tired... really." Kurune was keeping a vigil; she felt guilty about leaving Umaro and Mog -- especially Mog. He had looked so tiny and helpless. She remembered Kurago and Kulock had been like that when they were younger.

So Kurune waited, hoping the little moogle would walk through the door. She snuggled in with the blanket and sipped on the hot cocoa. "Umaro and Mog can take care of themselves," she told herself.

* * * *

"Hey, Kurune. Wake up!"

"What? Huh?" Kurune snapped awake. She shot a glance at the inn's clock; someone had moved the minute hand up by half an hour. "Kupo! I... I must've dozed off... for a sec..."

"How you doing, Kurune? It's me... Zephyr."

Kurune propped herself up and stared at the other moogle. "I must be dreaming," she said. But everything looked real enough. She was in Maranda's inn. There was a plate of pie crumbs, half a cup of cocoa, and her Mysidian Shades sitting on the coffee table. "Zeph?"

Zephyr politely bowed. "You must have beautiful dreams, Kurune..."

"Kupo!" Kurune blushed uncomfortably. "Hrmph! You've been drinking," she accused.

Zephyr picked up the Mysidian Shades and put them on. "Cool sunglasses," he remarked. "Everything's so dark!"

"They're Mysidian Shades." Kurune bopped Zephyr atop his head and snagged her sunglasses back. "What in the world brings you to Maranda?" she asked. "And here." She handed him a handkerchief. "You have gunk all over your face."

Zephyr took the handkerchief and wiped tomato soup off his chin. Then he handed Kurune a package. "Delivery direct from Elf Grove," he stated officially.

"For me? Kupo, and it isn't even my birthday!" Kurune tore away the wrapping.

"I would have gotten it to you sooner, but I missed you at Duncan's house. Then I mistakenly went to Jidoor instead of Maranda..."

"It's empty!"

"Kupo?!" Zephyr snatched the box from Kurune. "Kupo! I can't believe it! Argh! The Elder sent me on another wild chocobo chase!" He flung the box into the air and pounded his head against the nearest wall. "Arrrgh! Kupo! Kupo! Kupoppo! Arrrrrrgh!" Zephyr ran out into the streets of Maranda screaming a steady stream of moogle curses.

Kurune inspected the box and rummaged through the wrappings. There weren't any hidden messages as far as she could tell. Kurune didn't really know too much about Zephyr -- he had never been one to stay long in Elf Grove. Now she wondered if the moogle Elder had a lot of empty boxes ready for Zephyr to deliver.

"Waaaah!" Zephyr burst back into the inn and collapsed face first. He took his time getting up. He looked around the foyer then at Kurune. "Where is everybody, kupo?"

* * * *

Kurune pounded on the wooden door.

"Go away!"

"Kulock, it's me. Come on out..."

"There's a bathroom upstairs!"

"Come on out, Kulock... Zephyr's here!"

A pause. "Have him find his own toilet, kupo!"

Kurune moved away from the door and apologized to Zephyr. "He's just taking a bath," she said.

Zephyr placed an ear to the door and heard splashing water. "I didn't know Kulock was so fond of baths."

"It's a long story..." Kurune replied.

Relm came into the inn with Interceptor by her side. "Woof, woof!" Relm quieted Interceptor down and knocked on the bathroom door. "Is he still in there?" she asked Kurune.

Kurune nodded. "Relm, I'd like you to meet Zephyr. Zephyr, this is Relm. Relm, Zephyr."

"I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, kupo." Zephyr greeted the pretty girl and her dog.

Relm smiled at Zephyr. She wouldn't have guessed that there were so many moogles in Maranda. And this one looked older than the rest... about as tall as Mog had been when they were still fighting Kefka. "Sorry, Zephie, Kurune...." Relm yawned. "I'm just too bushed for words. We'll catch you guys in the morning."

"Wait! Where's Kurago?"

Relm waved erratic loops in the air. "He's off flying somewhere. Come on, Interceptor. Nighty-night." She left the two moogles to themselves.

"We had a busy day," said Kurune. "We're all a bit tired."

Zephyr dismissed Kurune's apologies. "Kupo, did she just say Kurago was 'flying'? She must have meant fluttering, right?"

Fluttering was flapping your wings and hovering just off the ground. All moogles could flutter for short distances. Fluttering was the equivalent of treading water whereas flying was more akin to real swimming.

"No, she meant real flying all right. But it's really too late for Kurago to be out flying -- it's past his bedtime." Kurune stepped outside the inn, followed by Zephyr.

Scanning the starry skies, Zephyr spotted Kurago diving towards them. "Kupo, I must be drunk!" Zephyr looked on flabbergasted.

"Don't be silly! Surely you must've heard about Kurago flying when you were at Elf Grove," Kurune insisted.

"Hmph! Before I had taken twelve paces inside that town, Elf Grove's most-wise moogle Elder tells me he has an urgent package to send -- an empty box, kupo!"

Kurago landed with his feet running. He stopped in front of Kurune and Zephyr. "Zephyr!?" He hadn't seen Zephyr in the longest time, but now he practically ignored him and asked Kurune, "Is he still in there?"

"Uh-huh. He's still bathing. You'd better turn in now; we're setting out at the crack of dawn, kupo." Kurune looked at Zephyr, shook her head, and disappeared into the inn.

Zephyr just stared at Kurago. "How'd you do that?" he asked.

"It's nice to see you, too, Zephyr. Lali-ho!"

"Never mind the pleasantries," Zephyr insisted. "What are you doing flying?"

It occurred to Kurago that Zephyr was hardly ever around Elf Grove and would've missed seeing him fly before. "There's no secret to flying," he explained. "Lali, all moogles can fly! The only hard part is taking off..."

* * * *

A new day broke in Maranda, and Kurago left the Item Shop with three new knapsacks filled with supplies. Close behind, Zephyr pushed a handcart loaded with tomatoes. They rounded a corner and entered the inn.

Kurune put down a copy of the Maranda Gazette. It looked like the world was falling to pieces again. She looked at the supplies that Kurago brought back. "New knapsacks," she commented. "Just as well, kupo. Our old gear are pretty much worn through, but what's with the tomatoes?"

Zephyr chuckled a bit. "Tomato!" He howled and burst into tumultuous laughter.

"What's so funny?" asked Kurune. "Tomato?"

Zephyr seized his belly and fell to the floor. He was in a frenzy and laughed himself silly.

Kurune looked at the tomatoes, looked at Zephyr, and looked at the empty box that Elf Grove's Elder had sent her. She was sorely tempted to re-wrap the box with a tomato inside and send Zephyr to Thamasa with it.

Zephyr pulled himself off the floor. His face was flushed with merriment as he selected a tomato from the cart. "Have Kulock bathe in some tomato juice," he suggested. "It'll clean out any offending odor, kupo!" He bit into the tomato then started grinning.

Relm came in just in time to see Zephyr run out of the inn. "What's so funny?" she asked. "Looks like someone's been tickling that moogle!"

"Pull up a seat, Relm," Kurune invited. "We'll eat breakfast then set out to look for Mog... again."

* * * *

As noon approached, Kulock sat in a tub of tomato juice. He wondered if it wasn't all just a big joke, but then he torpedoed a battleship and forgot about all the adventure he was missing in the desert.

Somewhere out in the Maranda Desert, Kurune and Relm had set up a tent to escape the scorching heat. There was no adventure. Kurago flew high overhead, looking for the cave entrance to the Sands of Time. But to everyone's dismay, it was impossible to find.

And somewhere far beyond the desert, Zephyr sped westward on his Jidoor-rented chocobo. Kurune had wanted to cover all bases: Maranda, the desert, and the Opera House. So Zephyr headed towards the Opera House... besides, he hadn't seen a good opera in a long while.

As he rode, Zephyr tried to occupy his thoughts with other subjects. Kurago knew how to fly! The bluish moogle shook his head in confusion. How was that possible? The hardest part was taking off, Kurago had said.

As merry images of himself soaring through the air passed through Zephyr's head, he some noise in the distance. It sounded like music. In the middle of the desert? He halted his chocobo and shaded his eyes with his hand to get a better look. What was it? The moogle finally decided to dismount and get a closer look.

After lecturing the innocent-looking chocobo about stealing other moogles' tomatoes while they were out scouting the desert, Zephyr very carefully made his way between the dunes until the site of the mysterious sounds lay just over the next crest. The moogle then knelt down and listened. That was definitely music. And lots of jangling noises. Gypsies!

Zephyr raised his fuzzy head over the crest, and his wide green eyes were greeted with the sight of a prosperous gypsy camp.

"Kupo!" Zephyr exclaimed. He waved to the chocobo, then shouted at it, then finally he went back and took its reins. "That means I want you to come to me!" he said to the bird. A frustrated Zephyr then led the animal to the camp.

A leathery-faced old man was the first to greet Zephyr as he entered the cheerful camp. "Hello, lad!" the old gypsy exclaimed warmly. Zephyr grinned happily and bounded up to the man.

"Hi! On your way somewhere?"

"Nowhere in particular. We'll probably end up in Maranda eventually, but who knows? My daughter wants to visit the opera, but we have no real destination, other than that."

The moogle's ears pricked up at the mention of the opera house. "Oh, kupo! Me too! Would you like me to take her?" The old man looked thoughtfully at Zephyr for a moment, then nodded thoughtfully.

"You seem like a responsible moogle. Sure... why not!"

"Kupo! Where is she? I'd like to leave as soon as possible, if that's okay with you."

The old man laughed heartily. "Goodness! You certainly are in a hurry to run off with my daughter! She's a big girl, though... she can take care of herself." The man then shouted at a group of girls dancing around a large campfire. "Jinjin! Come here, will you?" One of the girls stopped, and thanked the musicians before approaching the pair.

She was a very graceful girl, Zephyr noticed. Her hips swayed elegantly as she walked. Definitely the hips of a dancer. She curtsied politely to Zephyr, who bowed in return. "Jinjin, this is Zephyr. Zephyr, my daughter Jinjin." The old man faced his daughter. "Jinjin, my flower, this fellow is going to the opera house. Would you like to accompany him? You can meet up with us again in Maranda."

Jinjin's eyes widened at the prospect. "Really? Yes, yes, I'd love to!" The old man winked at Zephyr, and walked away.

One half-hour later, the girl was sitting patiently on the chocobo as poor Zephyr tried to get the thing to move. "Kupo! Move, blast you!" When it finally, did, Zephyr thankfully selected a tomato from his basket and bit into it gratefully as he walked alongside the bird and its lovely passenger.

Jinjin glanced at him with a curious glint in her brown eyes. "Tomatoes?" she asked wonderingly.

The only sound that could be heard as the opera house rose into view was the sound of Zephyr's hysterical laughter.

Umaro sighted a small patch of trees ahead. He picked up his pace, still bumbling along, arms hanging limply at his sides. Each step felt like it took all the energy his body contained.

The small forest grew bigger and the area of it seemed to enlarge as he approached it. He finally reached the first tree and leaned against it. He decided that maybe next time he shouldn't skip hibernation, even if a sage from the Great Beyond tells him to.

He made it a few steps farther and began to climb the nearest tree. It was a thick pine. It would hide him well. He propped his back against the tree and let his eyes do what they had been begging to for hours.

* - * - *

A tall, skinny man stands under a red cherry tree. His hand reaches up and pulls a cherry from a branch and sets it in his small bucket he is required to fill everyday.

He glances around himself. He sees many people. They each have the same job as he does, they are all required to fill their small bucket with red cherries. He sees himself as a commoner and shakes his head in disgust.

He picks his twelfth cherry and his bucket is full. It only takes that many to fill it. He begins his walk home. He is past the red cherry orchard and approaches the green cherry orchard. It is the same size and has the same number of trees as the one he was just at.

He sees only five people working in this field. He knows who they are, and views them with jealous eyes. They have the power. Since they pick the fruit that he, and the rest of his civilization, live off of, they have a say. He hates them, but wishes he was one of them.

He notices their buckets to be filled are much bigger. They have to fill them many times a day to feed the civilization. They don't have time to do much else. He disregards this, still lusting for their power. Lately, their work has been slower from fulfilling their other obligations.

The red cherry pickers have started complaining. "There are not enough green cherries to keep us full," is the complaint that is heard over and over.

"I could do a much better job than them," the skinny man thinks to himself,"I can pick cherries faster than anyone else."

He decides to return to the red cherry field. He calls out to the commoners to join him against the ones with power. They all join him, their jealousy as intense as his own. What they could do with that power!

The man leads them back to the green cherry orchard to start the battle...

* - * - *

Umaro woke with a start. He tried to remember his dream, but it seemed so strange, he let it go. It took him a moment to remember where he was. When his awareness returned, he climbed down the tree. The sun was just setting. Perfect waking time.

He hid a little while until the sun was erased from the sky and then continued his journey toward Narshe. Something was compelling him to return. Maybe after he got there, he could prepare for a delayed hibernation.

His feet pounded the ground, his hair flopping and all he thought about was the dream from moments before. But, the only part he could remember was something about green cherries...

Mog sat up and looked around at the forest of hardwoods -- Marandan maples and a few other trees that had once thrived on the Southern Continent. They hardly constituted a genuine forest now, but the canopy of leaves and branches convinced the him that he was no longer in Narshe.

Mog had just dreamt that he was in the Narshe mines where the only trees were wooden columns and support beams. In this dream, he had been camping with Umaro, Relm, and even the Moogleteers -- Kurune, Kurago, and Kulock. They had a nice twinkling fire going and the walls were gold. It was Mog's birthday, everyone cheered, and there was a huge happy birthday cake set out just for him. Someone lit the four candles standing on his cake and told him to make a wish, and he did...

Now he was awake. Stretching his arms to his sides and then over his head, Mog let out a small yawn. He stood up and walked around Umaro, tiptoeing around the slumbering sasquatch. Mog's stomach rumbled. A search through Umaro's meager supplies proved disheartening. There wasn't enough to feed a baby moogle much less a full-grown sasquatch.

And it was never easy waking Umaro either. Mog kicked him in the shin, but it was a wasted effort. The duo had slept well into the afternoon, and it looked like Umaro would be content to sleep all day.

"Okay, Umaro," Mog relented. "Sleep tight, kipi, and I'll see about getting us some fresh supplies."

Mog polished a flat piece of white metal shaped like a chocobo; it was a Merit Award and Mog clipped it on. Next he lifted and tested his Pearl Lance. When wielding it didn't cause him to tip over, he set it aside and donned on the rest of his gear. It felt right.

Mog looked at the sun peeking through to the undergrowth, listened to the chatter of some sparrows, then set off...

* * * *

The luxurious private boxes had been reserved by a prominent Jidooran family and then canceled. Now Mog sat in one of its plush seats, enjoying the opera and munching on a box of Choco-bos. The players strutted across the stage, full of sound and fury; the orchestra rose and fell in time with the action; and every once in a while, Mog would hear the shrilling of a piccolo.

"Pssst! Mog! No, don't turn around..."

Mog froze. He thought he recognized the voice, but it was too hushed and muffled for him to be certain. "Er... kipi?"

"It's me, Mog... Zephyr! No, no, don't turn around, kupo, you'll draw attention."

Zephyr! Mog couldn't believe his ears. He hadn't seen the other moogle since... a long time. And what was he doing at the Opera House?

Then as though it were the most natural thing to do, Zephyr handed Mog a napkin. "Psst! Here, Mog. Have a slice of cake, kupo!"

A build-up in the orchestra obscured the slight clinking of china and silverware. The extra-large two-layered cake was just like the one in his dream. Mog received the decorative dessert without looking back at his benefactor. This was getting strange.

"Gotta go, Mog. See ya..."

"Kipi, wait!"

Zephyr stopped in his tracks. He looked back to see Mog staring at him. "Turn around, turn around!" He shooed Mog until the baby moogle did as he was told. "Kupoppo! Aw, forget it; it's too late now..." Zephyr slumped into one of the cushiony chairs and sighed.

"Kipippi... I'm sorry."

"No, no. Don't cry on my account; I'll live." Zephyr stared up at the vaulted ceiling for a while.

Mog glanced at the other moogle then poked at the thick slice of cake, unsure if it was edible. "Is there a message?" he asked. "I wouldn't want to accidentally eat something important... or dangerous."

Zephyr gave the baby moogle an incredulous look. "You watch too many operas, Mog," he chided. "I don't have time to bake a cake everytime I deliver a message... kupo, check under the plate."

As promised, there was a message fired into the bottom of fine china. Mog strained to read it without dropping the cake: "'Made in Nikeah'... kipi, that's nice to know."

"No, no, no!" Zephyr snatched away the plate. "Argh!" After reading the inscription, he handed the cake back to Mog. "Kupoppo, I'll be right back..."

When Zephyr returned, he carried two mugs in addition to an extra helping of cake. "Trade."

Mog exchanged cakes and read the blue lettering off the new plate: "'Moogleteers Relm Maranda'... are they in Maranda?"

"Kupo. Did you want to send them a greeting?"

"Well, er...." Mog set aside his untouched cake and paused. "Actually... I can just send Perseus..."

"What!? WHAT?!" Zephyr hopped furiously off his seat. "So this moogle's not good enough to handle your mail, eh? Well, I'll..."

"Kipippi," Mog insisted. He forced a pair of opera glasses on Zephyr, and tried to placate him. "Perseus isn't even a messenger, kipi. Over there in the third row. That little boy playing the piccolo. That's Perseus."

Zephyr got a close-up of one of the performers on stage. "Cool! Everything's so big!" Then he focused and magnified to where Mog pointed. "Kupo! You can't send a musician on a delivery run," he objected. "What are you thinking, Mog?"

"But Perseus lives in Maranda," Mog explained. "And he's going home after tonight's show. Besides," he discreetly passed a letter to Zephyr, "you're too busy to revisit Maranda."

Zephyr grinned happily and angled the letter to catch some of the faint light. "Kupo! Now that's more like it," he said. The letter was addressed to a Cyan Garamonde in Doma Castle and was sealed with an impressive insignia. "But there's no return address," he observed. "Only an 'Elayne and Owain'."

"Wife and kid," Mog stated.

Zephyr carefully tucked the letter away, happy he wasn't delivering empty boxes anymore.

Mog tasted the frosting on his cake. "Mmmm... This is good." He stuffed a forkful into his mouth. "First the Impresario treats me to lunch, then Perseus gives me his backpack filled with goodies -- here, have a Choco-bo cookie -- and now I get a birthday cake!"

Zephyr grabbed a handful of cookies. "Don't get sentimental on me, Mog. The Impresario just wanted to celebrate tonight's opening." He passed a mug to Mog. "Happy birthday, Mog. Drink up!"

Mog sniffed the cider -- apple -- and guzzled it down.

Zephyr chomped on a Choco-bo cookie and adjusted his opera glasses. The opera was approaching a finale and the orchestra sped up the tempo. "Kupo!" Zephyr sprung out of his seat. "Some idiot has the nerve to spy on us; how rude!" He waved to the intruder across the auditorium.

"Kipi..." Mog tried to complain with a mouthful of cake and cider, but Zephyr simply handed him the opera glasses and rushed off the balcony. Mog chugged down more apple cider and searched the audience, wondering what Zephyr had seen.

* * * *

When Mog returned to their forest hideaway, it was already night. Starlight illuminated the otherwise undisturbed campsite. It really didn't surprise Mog that Umaro was still asleep.

"First things first," Mog told himself. He was hungry again and was pretty sure Umaro would be also when he awoke. He started a small fire and set about preparing some soup.

Sure enough, the crackle of the fire and the aroma of the tomato soup brought the sasquatch to his senses. Umaro sat up groggily, "Uhhhh..."

"Chow down, Umaro. When you're ready, we'll head back to Narshe... kipi, we're going home."

Mog Chapter 13: SLAM Dancing

Mog was mortified. A hairless moogle couldn't have been more embarassed. "I am *NOT* sucking my thumb!" he interjected. "I'm licking my fingers." And before Umaro could get a word in edgewise, he noisily slurped up the remainder of the cold soup, dropped the emptied bowl, and pivoted to his feet. "Kipi, I'm going for a walk," he stated succinctly.

Umaro watched in despair as the little moogle stubbornly stomped off by himself. He was hurt by Mog's angry remarks and at a lost for what he'd done wrong. He was just sitting there, eating his soup, not a word, and bang!...Mog flies off the handle. Umaro had never seen pint-sized furball so caustic; it was unsettling.

* * * *

Mog sniffled a couple of times. Great, now all he needed was his mom to wipe the snot from his nose. He slumped into a tree, crying to himself, afraid Umaro might have followed him. Mog had been so mean; now he felt just awful.

Ever since he had visited that stupid opera, it had been nagging at him. He had sat in those cushy seats, enthralled by the plight of the heroes on stage, enraptured by the music. It had deluded him into thinking that he could fight again; that he could make a difference; that he was the same old Mog that had squared off against Kefka.

Well, it was a lie. The curtains closed, the music went away, and Mog was nowhere near his former self. He was still two feet shorter than before -- 24 inches! And no manner of crappy Merit Awards, or Atma Weapons, or Illuminas, or what-have-you made a bloody difference.

A billion stars tried to sympathize with him, but they were so far away. Mog sent up a wish, a wish that things were the way they were before, that *he* was the way he was before.

* * * *

"See ya, Mog."

"See ya, kid."

Mog held his composure until Owain disappeared behind the ranks of standing heroes. He wasn't so sure he wanted to go through with it anymore.

A blue-robed moogle beckoned to a fellow sage. They perused a directory of the dead and argued in small voices. An elf warrior left his place among the heroes, carrying with him a white banner. The trio exchanged words.

Mog couldn't hear the conversation and didn't want to; instead, he concentrated on the rune script decorating the elven banner. He was scared and didn't know what to do. He barely noticed the flag waver and draw towards him.

The elf gripped Mog's shoulder with an open hand. "Your heart is pure, Mog," he stated encouragingly. Then he unsheathed a menacingly curved Flame Sabre, and half speaking to Mog and half speaking to the blade, he continued: "I have slain many undead creatures with this sword. Go save your friends, Mog."

Though unskilled in its use, Mog accepted the sword, "Thankupo." But the elf was gone, replaced by the moogle sage.

"What are you doing here, Mog?" he accused. "You're not even dead."

"I...I don't know," Mog answered without conviction.

"Go kill your friends, Mog. The thief or the dragoon, but not the girl. You are not dead; yet you walk around without a body and it is unsightly."

"And be sure to kill yourself for you are evil," another sage ordered.

Mog objected, but a white light seared the room, forcing him to shield his eyes. "I am *not* evil!" The words echoed back at him. The heroes and sages of yore were gone. He was alone.

"No! This isn't right!" Mog ran from one end of the cavern to the other. "This isn't right!!" He'd been mistakenly transported into the Narshe mines. Mog recognized cavern staked out by moogles long ago, but now it was empty. No moogles, no armor, no supplies. Nothing.

He ran to the back of cleaned-out cave and triggered the hidden door. Cold, dry air washed over him. He charged in anxious to get back to Elf Grove, anxious for some answers.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

"Kupo! It's me. Mog."

A moogle sentry flashed a pair of jagged swords at him. "What are you doing here? Do you have a message?"

"No. I just..."

"I have my orders, same as you."

Another sentry called out from the shadows, "Better get back out there, Mog. Secret entrances don't guard themselves, kupo."

That's right, Mog thought. He was supposed to be outside guarding in case someone came snooping around. The world was only more dangerous now since Kefka came into his own. Mog ran back down the corridor and pushed open the wall.

"Kupo!" A young moogle pushed past Mog. Mog watched as he saluted a high-ranking moogle and spat out words between gulps of air. "They're swarming all over the mines, sir!"

The base commander homed in on an aide, "Get me reports on sector G and H," then turning back to the messenger, "Composition?"

"Looks like the forward elements of a larger force," the messenger answered. "They're armed to the teeth, kupo!"

"Calm yourself," the moogle commander ordered. He singled out two other moogles. "Evacuate the reserves. We'll engage at Zeda-4. Message Elf Grove."

"Sir!"

The aide returned from one of the side tunnels. "Sector G reports. Soldiers are everywhere. Hunting down a witch."

Murmurs and gasps rolled through the ranks. A witch! The Empire was looking for a witch!

The aide continued: "We've also found a girl in Sector G. She fits the general description, kupo."

The commander looked around. "Mog. Take Bravo. Check it out but don't interfere."

* * * *

"...don't interfere..."

The words lingered in his ears as Mog awoke. He was still in the small forest just outside the Opera House. He had dozed off sheltered in the nook of a tree.

It had been so easy to interfere back then; no doubts. He knew then who he was, where he stood, and what was what. A real battle against a real enemy. And he had learned his first Dance that day.

But now...

Mog wiggled his toes. Kupo! He hadn't even danced once in his second life; things had been so mixed up, so confusing. What if he couldn't Dance anymore? What if he turned out to be just like every other moogle -- ordinary, Danceless, a moogle without rhythm? The very thought was unnerving, and he had to find out.

He could feel the catchiness of a jitterbug in his feet. No, he needed an appropriate dance number and an appropriate partner. Wind Song was always a nice little ditty, and it always cheered him up.

And, hmm... that rock over there. As Mog approached the rock, he noticed she -- yes, she -- was about an inch taller than he was. He swallowed his envy. It looked like no one had bothered to ask the rock for a dance in about a million years, and Mog knew how lonely that must have felt. "May I?" he asked. The rock seemed a bit shy but didn't do anything to otherwise spurn his advances.

Mog tried to remember how it went. He thought he might have forgotten, but the Dance came back to him very readily. He tapped out the beat, taking the lead. He followed with a quick succession of hops, spins, and shuffles.

The rock seemed to ignore the dancing moogle, but the rest of the forest responded whole-heartedly. The trees and overhanging branches quivered, streaked, and blurred, while the thick forest undergrowth blinked around Mog's feet and faded away. A grassy plain opened up as far as the eye could see. Chirping field crickets replaced the twittering of night birds.

Then heralding from the stars above, a small hawk swooped down, its unholy screech rending the chill air. The rock, clearly stricken with fear, was immobile. The Cockatrice pounced, but instead of hurriedly taking flight again, it stayed perched on its victim. It glared at the sedentary rock, and Mog thought it might look his way. Fortunately, it just whisked its serpent's tail around, extended its wings dauntingly, and shot back into the high heavens.

Mog breathed a sigh of relief. The forest reemerged from hiding. That had been really stupid. The Cockatrice's glance was deadly, and without anyone else around, it might have looked his way. But it hadn't.

Hoping that he wasn't being rude, Mog tapped the rock. It worked! He had turned the rock into stone; he had Danced; he was still the coolest moogle around. "I gotta tell Umaro, kipi!"

* * * *

"Don't move around so much," Mog warned.

He and Umaro were up in the scaffolding overlooking the stage. The Opera House was empty, but they had just caught the tail-end of the last performance. And it was just as much fun to watch the stage hands and clean-up crew going through their rounds besides.

Umaro shifted a bit and the whole lighting support structure teeteered like a playground swing set. Mog didn't say anything but just let everything settle down instead. He worried that a rat would wander onto their perch, and then they'd all crash onto the stage below.

Instead the Impresario stormed onto the stage, shouting at the top of his lungs, waving a sheaf of papers. It looked like he was reading the lines to a new play he had just created.

Another man, looking like a cross between an usher and a used-chocobo salesman, chased after the Impresario with his own lines. "But it's not my fault," he grovelled.

Improvising as he went along, the Impresario flung his notes across the stage. "...idiots! They can't do this to me! I'm the Impresario!" The other man sank back. "All my patrons live in Jidoor. Who will see my shows? The damned Empire doesn't put enough thought into who they're invading! How many tickets have you sold?" he demanded.

Shuffling his papers around, the ticket seller answered, "Half the tickets are..."

The Impresario cut him off. "Go to Maranda. Discount or give away the rest of the tickets." The Impresario barged off stage, proclaiming, "The show must go on!"

When things quieted down, Mog hopped off his belly. "Did you hear that, Umaro? There's fighting in Jidoor, kipi!" Things didn't quite make sense -- he could have sworn the Impresario had said 'Empire' -- but this was his chance. "We have to go, Umaro. There's trouble afoot, danger lurking..."

Mog's jaw dropped when he saw Umaro shaking his head. "But, but..." But nothing. Mog knew it was useless trying to talk Umaro into going. He had had enough trouble just getting the sasquatch to join the fight against Kefka. "OK, Umaro. You have some good points there," he agreed. "I can't argue with you, but I can't go back to Narshe with you either."

They crisscrossed the scaffolding to an open window. Umaro pushed Mog through first then followed. Outside they used the fire escape to get back to ground level.

They walked to back of the Opera House where they inspected the parked chocobos, one by one. Umaro boosted Mog onto one of the fresher looking mounts. After some hugs and goodbyes, Umaro untied the reins and handed them to Mog.

"Take care, Umaro." Mog aimed the bird's beak towards Jidoor. "Giddyap!"