Chapter 4
Quail Contents
"Pixal!" I exclaim and grab her arm to support her as she stumbles. Her left shoulder is slightly grazed by the blade, but she is otherwise unharmed.
"Keep running. I'm fine," she responds and us three quicken our pace, with me not daring to look back for fear of falling, or feeling another blade pierce my body.
I hear rustling in front of us and grab Pixal and Gruel, yanking them into the bushes on our right, in time for other people to come out of the bushes. We keep running for what seems eternity before halting out of exhaustion. I lean on a tree, gasping for air, and put the knife back in the quiver as Gruel collapses on the leafy, forest floor. I shiver, while wiping sweat off my forehead, realizing suddenly that it is quite chilly.
"Pixal, let me see your injury," I say, walking over to her.
She nods, seemingly not as tired as I, most likely because she is a newer robot. A few days prior to the annual Ice Games, the rules were made that any robot in District 12 was to be terminated, so my father modified her to look like a human. He made her silver hair realistic, yet the color remains the same, because he heard many of the folk who watch the games had more "exotic" hair colors. Her skin used to be white, and is now a peach color, but she will always be beautiful to removes her jacket, wincing as I help her sit down.
"How are you feeling?" I ask, not knowing why I did.
"Now that I've seen you, Zane, I feel wonderful," Pixal responds, smiling brightly.
I examine her wound carefully, and tell her, "You were merely grazed, so I can go ahead and clean the laceration; then wrap it up." She nods. "Do you know where I can find water?"
"Over there," she points behind her, "About fifty-five feet away."
"Do…you have…anything…to carry the…water in?" Gruel asks in between gasps for air.
"I do," Pixal responds, swinging a bag off her shoulder, and hands it to me.
"I'll be back in a minute," I tell her, "Here. You might need this." I give her the long knife and leave to find the body of water, whatever it will be, without another word, on the verge of tears. I know we won't all make it and only one winner is permitted, but I will not win this. It has to be Pixal. I cannot harm her in any way whatsoever and I wish I could tell her three simple words. I love you. I can't.
"Zane," she calls me softly.
I abruptly halt, biting my lip, attempting to steady my breathing to a normal rate, and change my expression to a happier one as I turn around. "Yes?" Did she hear the strain in my voice?
"Come back safely, okay?" she says sincerely, her green eyes moist, "I love you."
My throat tightens as I turn away, walking briskly towards the water, not daring to look back at her, and ignore my throbbing ankle. After going about fifty feet away, I slump against a tree, setting the bag down, and bury my face in my hands, letting silent tears flow freely from their artificial ducts. If I keep this up, I'll lose all of the liquid in my body; then start crying oil, which is not a good idea. In a few minutes of regaining my composure, I wipe the tears away, opening up the bag, and take out a water bottle. I amble to a stream and fill the container before closing the lid, and retrieve the bag; then begin returning back to where the others are.
I look back and forth, observing every detail in underbrush, anticipating a blade to fly through the air, or for someone to shoot me, but nothing happens. The grey light of dawn appears. I see Gruel, holding a bloody mess with a stick protruding from it over a fire, and Pixal setting a pile of wood next to it.
"What is that?" I ask, pointing to the thing on the stick.
"Quail," Gruel responds, slowly turning the bird clockwise, roasting it and making my stomach churn.
"I brought water," I tell Pixal, setting the bag down and showing her the bottle. After a half hour of cleaning the wound and Gruel roasting as well as eating the quail in silence, I break with a question. "I had been meaning to ask you, where did you obtain the bag and supplies?"
"From…Ernie's body," Pixal says softly, casting her lovely head down.
"I'll be right back," Gruel notifies us.
I gently take her soft hands in mine and speak to her solemnly, "I'm sorry you have to go through this…Pixal." She looks up at me with a sad smile on her face, and I gingerly bring her against my body, pressing her head against my chest. I can feel her warmth, her love, and her…fear. It tears my heart in two as we sit there a few minutes.
Abruptly a cannon sound goes off, then another, then another. Could it be? "Gruel?" I call out anxiously, "Are you there?"