A meadow with flowers is one Aerith feels perfectly at home in. She picks up her dress lightly as she sits down so it doesn't get all creased beneath her, and then she leans forward to pick flowers. One, two, yellow, blue, there are so, so many. Some go in her basket with the distant thought of selling them. But others she just presses her face to and takes a breath of the smell--too young to be plucked just yet.

She's humming cheerfully to herself, though that stops when she stands up and finally spots the wolf. She stiffens a bit, basket moving behind her back. But she smiles, and asks:

"You don't mind if I'm here too, do you?"