Chapter 2 - Dream
The helping wings and talons didn't stop swarming around him until he stood up straight and had the dust brushed from his blue feathers. Curiosity consumed him but he still felt too ill to look closely at his surroundings.
His new companions. They had to be at least thirty of them, of all species and shapes and sizes, their bodies smudged and sweaty as if they'd been hard at work. The blue macaw suddenly felt dizzy, his eyes flickering between the birds and the bizarre place in which he'd found himself.
They were standing, in a vast courtyard several times the size of a football field, surrounded by four enormous walls made of gray stone and covered in spots with thick ivy. The walls had to be hundreds of feet high and formed a perfect square around them, each side split in the exact middle by an opening as tall as the walls themselves that, from what he could see, led to passages and long corridors beyond.
"Look at this Greenbean," a scratchy voice said; the blue macaw couldn't see who it came from. "He's gonna break his own neck checking out the new digs." Several birds laughed.
"Shut your hole, Snowy," a deeper voice responded.
The blue macaw focused back in on the dozens of strangers around him. A black spotted snowy owl with red eyes—the same one who'd welcomed him, sniffed at him, his face devoid of expression. A short, young skinny blue macaw with a pair of lenses and ruffled up hair feathers fidgeted back and forth on his feet, looking up at the older blue macaw with wide eyes. A thick, yet pudgy black owl folded his wings as he studied the newcomer, he got a set of leather-belt to strap a baseball bat on his back. A tall peregrine falcon with bunch of cooking tools strapped on his back frowned. Countless others stared.
"W-Where am I?" The blue macaw asked, surprised at hearing his voice for the first time in his salvageable memory. It didn't sound quite right, higher than he would've imagined.
"Nowhere good." This came from the snowy owl, whom he presumed to be Snowy. "Just slim yourself nice and calm."
"Hey, which Keeper he's gonna get?" someone shouted from the back of the crowd.
"I told you, chaff-face," a shrill voice responded. "He's a dung, so he'll be a Slopper—no doubt about it." The bird giggled like he'd just said the funniest thing in history.
The gloomy feeling of confusing hopelessness, as if the world had ended for him, had been wiped from his memory and replaced with something horrible. The blue macaw just wanted to run and hide from these people.
Snowy was talking. "—even do that much, bet my liver on it." The blue macaw still couldn't see his point.
"I said shut your holes, Snowy." The deeper voice yelled. "Keep yapping and next break will be cut in half."
That must be their leader, the blue macaw realized. Hating how everyone gawked at him, he concentrated on studying the place the owl had called the Glade.
Suddenly the leader of the group—perhaps he was twenty—took a step forward. He was a blue macaw, just like him. He got blue eyes, and a medium sized beak. Light blue feathers covered his face, chest, belly, while the rest of them were dark blue color. And specifically, he was wearing a stained scarf around his neck. For some reason the clothing here surprised the new blue macaw; it seemed like everyone should be wearing something more menacing—like prison garb. The leader of the group had small ruffle for his top hair feathers, his face was the cleanest among the others. But other than the permanent scowl, there was nothing scary about him at all.
"Can you tell us about yourself, who you are, where you come from ... anything? Can you tell me your name?" Questions were rushing out of the leader's beak.
"I-I can't remember anything. W-Why can't I remember any-"
"It's a long story, joelho," the leader interrupted. "Piece by piece, you'll learn—I'll be taking you on the Tour tomorrow. Till then … just don't break anything." He held a wing out. "Name's Husky." He waited, clearly wanting to shake wings.
The blue macaw refused. Some instinct took over his actions and without saying anything he turned away from Husky. He plopped down to sit. Pain swelled inside his wing bones once again, almost too much to bear. But he took a deep breath and forced himself to try to accept the situation.
"Then tell me," he called out, struggling to keep his voice even. "T-Tell me the long story. Seriously," he said, giving up on the show of courage. "Where am I?"
"Dang it," Husky said, rubbing his eyes. "Ain't no way to start these conversations, you get me? We don't kill joelho like you here, I promise. Just try and avoid being killed, survive, whatever."
Husky paused, and the blue macaw realized his face under his feathers must have whitened even more when he heard that last part.
"Man," Husky said, then ran his wings over his hair feathers as he let out a long sigh. "I ain't good at this—you're the first Greenbean since Nick was killed."
The blue macaw's eyes widened, then a scarlet macaw stepped up and playfully slapped Husky across the head. "Wait for the Tour, Husky," he said. "This kid's gonna have a freaking heart attack that nothing has even been heard yet." He bent down and extended his wing toward the blue macaw. "Name's Alex, Greenie, and we would all be right cheery if you would forgive our dung-for-brains leader, here."
The blue macaw reached out and shook the scarlet macaw's wing—he seemed a lot nicer than Husky. Alex was at the same height as Husky, but looked to be a year or so younger. He had a white beak and face, with red, yellow, and blue on his wings. He also got some crossed-leather belt around his shoulder to strap a katana on his back, with the blue macaw having no ideas what actually it was for.
Husky scoffed. "At least he can understand half my words." There were a few scattered laughs, and then everyone gathered behind Husky and Alex, packing in even tighter, waiting to hear what they said.
Husky spread his wings out. "This place is called the Glade, all right? It's where we live, where we eat, where we grow our own foods, and where we sleep—we call ourselves the Gladers. That's all you need. Ain't got time to be nice, Greenbean. Old life's over, new life's begun. Learn the rules quick, listen, and don't talk. You get me?"
The blue macaw looked over at Alex, hoping for help. Everything inside him churned and hurt; the tears that had yet to come burned his eyes.
Alex nodded. "Greenie, you get him, right?" He nodded again.
The blue macaw nervously answered, "y-yeah."
"Good that," Husky said. "First Day. That's what today is for you, joelho. Night is coming; the Seekers will be back soon. The Box came late today, ain't got time for the Tour. Tomorrow morning, right after the wake-up." He turned toward Alex. "Get him a bed, get him to sleep."
"Good that," Alex said.
Husky's eyes returned to the blue macaw. "A few weeks, you'll be happy, joelho. You'll be happy and helping. None of us knew anything on First Day, you neither. New life ... begins tomorrow."
Husky turned and pushed his way through the crowd, then headed for the slanted wooden building in the corner. Most of the birds wandered away then, each one giving the blue macaw a lingering look before they walked off.
The blue macaw folded his wings, closed his eyes, took a deep breath. Emptiness ate away at his insides, quickly replaced by a sadness that hurt his heart. It was all too much—where was he? What was this place? Was it some kind of prison? If so, why had he been sent here, and for how long? None of the boys seemed to care whether he lived or died. Tears threatened again to fill his eyes, but he refused to let them come.
"W-What did I do?" he whispered, not really meaning for anyone to hear him. "What did I do—w-why would they send me here? W-Why can't I remember anything?"
Alex clapped him on the shoulder. "Greenie, what you're feeling, we've all felt it. We have all had First Day, felt pain on the wings, and come out of that dark box. Things are bad, and they'll get much worse for you soon, that's the truth. But down the road a piece, you'll be fighting true and good. I can tell you are not a sissy."
"Is this a prison?" The blue macaw asked, trying to find a crack to his past.
"Done asked four questions, haven't you?" Alex replied. "No good answers for you, not yet, anyway—morn comes tomorrow."
The blue macaw said nothing, his head sunk, his eyes staring at the cracked, rocky ground.
"Diaglo will be a good fit for you," Alex stated. "He's a fishbone daredevil, but a nice sap when all were said and done. Stay here, I'll find Diaglo and tell him he's in charge of your sleeping arrangements." And then he turned and flew in the direction of a farmyard, smoothly flapping his wings.
The blue macaw slid down the rough face of the tree until he sat on the ground again; he shrank back against the bark and closed his eyes, wishing he could wake up from this terrible, terrible dream.
To be continued . . .
- Husky belongs to HeadHusky
- Alex belongs to Alexriolover95
- Snowy belongs to Alex The Owl