Do you have any idea what you've done?

Eduardo's words nearly echoed louder than the world outside the miniature cave. The Amazonian jungle outside the covered back entrance churned ceaselessly.

Blu paced in this secluded player water reserve room. The clean water spring and pool inside swished. Nut cups, used, unused, and ready for use, lined every inch of space.

Peering from behind the vines that half-hid the stadium side entrance, he could see them all. Mighty, jeering cheers crowds of both tribes roared, magnified by the nature of the rocky stadium's enclosed pit. The line into the stadium stretched beyond eyesight. Blaring, harsh sunlight filtered through. Every flash of scarlet or green feathers boiled his blood redder. Calibrating breath hardly helped. Concentrating on preparing did, however.

I trained you for two weeks myself! It was arduous, but you promised me a commitment to my daughter, to try to be one of us for her.

The dejection he'd overcome during the reconditioning to tribe life came rushing back. Every ounce of hard work felt wasted–not too distant from his current sense of self-worth.

Then you go and do this… what happened to you? What made you do something so unfathomably blindsided? I had faith in you, Blu. But now…. now I am not so certain…

Yet, despite that, the old bird had mandated him to be the 'waterboy' for the team. Technically speaking, in their terms, the 'river deliverer'. Either way, the job was clear. Blu couldn't decide if Eduardo was giving him a second chance or punishing him with a dose of temporarily keeping him out of the way. The point being, it took advantage of his tendency to obey promises, as well as those in charge. In addition, there was nothing better to do nor a Jewel currently willing to talk.

He shook his head again, trying to focus on his assignment. Flexing his talons upon the stone floor, feathers bristled.

Focus, Blu, focus! It's not your fault these lobster-back scarlets are such bastards! Do your part, and they'll be the ones at our mercy….

He went back to sorting out stacks of nut cups, checking that the reserved water remained untainted by anyone, and was not diluted from filth. A lowly job of faux trust for he who had failed to uphold any. Blu sighed. Everyone seemed on edge about sabotage. Felipe wasn't on such a level for all his faults, he was sure. Clicking his tongue in thought, Blu viscerally shivered at the renewed anger between the tribes. It poisoned the air.

The snobby scarlets against the prideful macaws. What only he seemed to realize was that, when they won, they would unintentionally stoop to the enemy's level. He just knew they'd rub the failure back. Yes, they were defending against possible, unfair eviction. Nonetheless, it'd be slightly distasteful. No matter the fraction it'd be of the enemy's smug celebration. The truth remained—they themselves acted as if they were better, in some regards, on occasion.

Luckily for them, Eduardo was far too kind to retaliate against anything beyond Felipe and that bastard's smugness.

What Felipe would do when he won was an inconceivable notion, because they wouldn't happen. The true miracle was there existed a bloodless way to settle tribal feuds.

Once every speck of possible work appeared to be set up correctly, Blu returned to shifting in a tight stance, bird-watching the members of each tribe from his reclusive hidey-hole. The line amused him. Birds fly. These tribes walked into the game match. Everyone honestly followed the rules for all the bickering. No cheating fan was biting their way in like a piranha. They held faith in stakes and credibility.

Oh, this scoundrel of paradox! Hating those scarlets for their audacity, which we also have, while also acknowledging they are just like us. Linda's shop had the best philosophy section. Why couldn't I have read the ones on family care and relationships?

"I see a most organized setup here, that takes heavy concentration. Your care of the water is better than most." Shuffling, gargantuan claws clicked in; the booming voice shook as if thunder.

"Dah!" Blu jumped back, narrowly avoiding a line of full nut cups he'd just set out. Swiveling his head to the perpetrator, he recognized the elderly council member–Crestle.

He churred, clucking his tongue. "I do apologize for the startlement, Blu. I merely came to see how things are in this rather lonesome part of operations. It is quite a bit stuffy in here, isn't it? Must make for a need to quench yourself, ironically."

Blu eyed Crestle, whilst nervously, and straightening his stance up. "Y-yes, it is, somewhat." Not much else surfaced for a reply.

"Good to see you know what you're doing. Eduardo has some sense, I'll give him that." Crestle's face creased for a moment before resetting to normal.

Curiosity piqued, between boredom, a completed task, and the surprise visit. "I suppose. But w-what are you doing down here, if I m-may ask? He bit his tongue, cursing the stutters.

I seem to always do that around large birds in authoritative positions…

Crestle stretched his right wing, crooking it in and out. "Ah, I'm bored myself." He looked over Blu. "Given, this is an already won game. So, I figured you could use a well-being check-in, with, ah," he tapped a claw, "Everything that's been doing on."

A twitch wrinkled Blu's rather pristine expression. Yet, a warmness entered his stiff, cold chest. Someone acknowledged his existence, "It, it, uh, has b-been a lot… yes, I am s-"

"There is no need to apologize, dear boy," the elder interrupted. "Mistakes happen, they're merely far too selfish for their own good." A sheen gleaned in his eyes. "If anything, you gave us a chance to show our strength to those scarlets."

That wasn't exactly logical, in Blu's view. Then again, the bird might just be set in his ways and his narrow mind saw prideful aspects the most. "That certainly is a possibility, sir," Blu relented.

"No need to go nuts by overthinking it, hm?" A short, bellowing laugh rang as he approached closer,

That irked. Crestle possessed an agenda here. What it was, Blu could not deduce any hint of. "I appreciate the sentiment, I suppose, but that's, er, uh, a rather insens-" A large sweep of the right wing scooted him forward.

"Look at them fly, Blu, the best of the best!" He gestured his right wing outward.

Blu merely nodded, unsure of how else to handle Crestle. The entrance's vines, sideswiped to rest upon plant root hooks courtesy of Crestle, bequeathed a much clearer view. Formations of crimson and dark cyan swirled in practice, The crystal blue water lapped up sunlight; the lush plants glistened; the crowds rocked in waves; the goalies swished swiftly. It was a grand sight, Blu had to admit, at the least, to see his fellow tribe mates waltzing intricately in the air.

"There they go, Blu. Though, I'm sure you know the best of them. Roberto, a quite fine flier." An odd smile crept, Crestle shifting here and there.

His beak grated a bit. Indeed, out there breezed the crested blue macaw. Streamlined wings stroked as his feet bounced a nut to a teammate in perfect coordination. A tug of jealous admiration stroked his heart. Blu closed his eyes for a moment. Inhale. Exhale. And he crushed it. He was nothing more than a close friend to Jewel. The movement trifled the second-in-command's head feather curl. Roberto was faithful and devoted to the tribe. He was so complex yet so simple to one principal–everyone else above himself.

Blu sighed. The wind hit him.

That'd taken time to figure out finally–and unfortunately, it'd only been after he'd accidentally crossed tribe boundaries in a Brazil nut haze of delusion.

New to love, and then parenthood, the past few years hadn't been the best. Their failures to convey and communicate led to an unsteadying, unchanging, unhappy life at the core.

Here, there'd been genuine progress once that geyser exploded, and steam cooled off. The soul-breaking nature of Eduardo's training pushed him further and made him stronger. He and Jewel had talked it out, instead of a cold, worrying war with bitter, stagnant, communication.

He'd at least give jungle living a try, to see what it'd be like, and she'd consider the effects permanent residence had on the kids. Maybe a compromise, such as being a migratory family.

And then he'd relapsed, a nightmare about Roberto claiming all rationality in a fit of madness. One act to undo them all, one thoughtless fit of midnight rage to prove himself to her.

"He'll win for us all," said Crestle, his echoing voice snapping Blu out of the stupor to the sound of water splashing. "For he has a pure heart."

"That he will," Blu murmured in agreement.

Curious about the sound, he saw Crestle scooping a second nut cup into the water reserve. One laid out already by its wall, nestled carefully. A second splash. Water droplets dripped off the nut's brimming edges. At the silent beckoning, Blu waddled over. Avoiding the rows of water cups he'd set to the side, he quickly found his way over. He grappled the first cup set down, carefully wrapping his claws around. Crestle nodded.

The beat of drums, and clang of rock, from outside caused him to perk his attention to the vines. No longer practicing, the aerial field stood barren of motion. The announcers pitter-pattered a string of commentary to rile everyone up. On their respective sides of the stadium were the players–more so soldiers, in human terms–awaiting the opening ceremony. Roberto's feather's shone brilliantly, from the awkward angle he was viewable from.

"I have no doubt he shall lead us to victory, no matter the result," Crestle said, taking a sip, following the line of sight. "After all, he has never failed any of us in many years. Not even once."

Blu tapped his talons against his cup's edges. "Very true, it seems…" he agreed. "Everything he does, it is for the tribe or someone, with success in some form, nothing in return, no thoughts about himself. That's gotta be stressful." Blu breathed in sharply, refusing the darker thoughts.

Crestle gulped another small intake. "He is truly fine. Though, I will note even the most pristine rock has its cracks." His eyes calculated a glance. "I take it you've, ah, animosity to him, given your reactions? You're not alone there, Blu."

"We haven't really talked out our issues yet, not that they're any fault of either of us in the end." They'd met gazes across the last few days, but neither had approached each other yet. "I'm certain we'll work out our unspoken problems after this. Assuming we win…"

The other bird merely clucked in amusement. "As I said, we will win, no matter what." He tilted his cup to the side. "And I imagine if a player is injured, you would be called upon.

Blu could smell the competition electrifying that air. It was a high possibility. His heart beat. "I… could see that. I would hope Eduardo knows I'm capable." He didn't know why he was spilling his thoughts to the elder. Yet, he seemed nice enough–and anyone to talk to was a nice relief.

Crestle chuckled, a slight grumble accompanying. "Indeed, he trained you well." Another drink, arching his neck a bit more forward this time. "One of his few indisputable decisions."

"Eh… maybe." Blu did not want to take any stakes in tribal politics.

The other avian flapped his left wing out, pointing towards the stadium, where the drums pounded faster and faster, then flushed it inward, a dandy expression gleaming. "Shall we toast then, to victory, as we watch our comrades battle? You do your water well, so I hope your efforts do not go unutilized."

A flood of calmness came. Blu dispersed his heavy, grinding mindset. "To that I can do, Crestle." A large portion of his as-of-yet untouched cup washed down well. A faint taste of refreshing sweetness accompanied.

"Good to see you have committed," Crestle nodded.

"Well, Crestle, I–acghhhk!" Before he could reply properly, he let out a pained squawk as the water inflamed his gullet.

Blu sputtered spit. Something had gone wrong with the water. Somehow. He tried to move–and couldn't. In milliseconds, the tainting substance swiftly coursed his system fast as lightning. Haze crumpled vision. Everything smelt red and dead. The sensation of touch failed him; thus, he simply toppled on his side. A sickening crunch in the wing cried out when he landed atop it–a worthless, choking gasp ensued.

What the heck? What in Felipe's cursed existence is happening?

He could barely breathe. The air weighed infinitesimally heavier, and a sickening, slurping, sludge of molasses and mud. It rejected the dire attempts of maddening lungs by whispering away. The sweet, ill flavor still sat soaked in his tongue. An odd aroma reached his drying beak. Searing pain in the back of the throat flared. The black filth in the stony ground mocked, the fine particles brushing his frozen feathers.

In one sip, he was rendered paralyzed and mute. Luckily, his eye sockets still retained movement.

Perhaps because they took little energy to mobilize, the effort succeeded. They direct to Crestle.

Who stood there.

Smiling as ever.

"Alas," he Crestle proclaimed, "He didn't train you well enough."

Confusion hurt, and bewilderment all spun in Blu's head instantly simultaneously.

A… traitor?!

Shapes darted to his vision, and colors danced. Coherent thought was taxing.

"Traitor, you must be thinking." Crestle churred, his tail rustling in harmony. "Well aren't wrong. As for why, well, it doesn't hurt to tell. A dose of dart frog poison wonders. Felipe is correct on that much."

Blu struggled to move or scream or speak. Nothing came of any effort.

Cheering crowds of the awaiting avians reverberated, slicing his ears.

The elder set tossed his empty cup into the pile of used ones. "War and conflict in any form is distasteful when not absolutely forced. Eduardo is misguided, in his heart, to fight for this grove. We were destined to lose one way or the other. And, quite frankly, we are taught to be soft and dependent by being here."

A scraping metal sound screeched Blu's pounding eardrums. Out from underneath a pile of discarded leaf brush, he unearthed a certain red Swiss knife; debris flung everywhere. Crestle grappled it expertly. He walked over, clanking every other footstep. In the blink of an eye, the blade flung out. And it aimed right towards Blu. The piercing tip posed possibilities, the pointed potential wavering at Crestle's discretion.

Crestle yawned. "Disgusting as it is, your human tool will help hasten my plans. I shalln't waste my time monologuing–I've other work to do." A deep, content sigh escaped. "Worry not, I won't wound you. I'm merciful–that's what the poison was for." The blade poked Blu's chest–red splashes dripped.

No, no, no, no! Somebody find me….

"I do like you, but, alas, a message must be sent," Crestle drowned the words out, a slog of happy boredom revealing. "Just know your family is safe. Don't worry about never returning to them. Oh, you will." Dark eyes blossomed into darker pits. "Merely, not in one piece, my friend."

Blu did not want to yield, yet the poison was rapidly depleting anything he could feel or do.

He tried endlessly, as Crestle peered over in amusement.

And still nothing.

Everything… slowed.

Eyelids… grew… heavy.

No… no…. Jewel….

An abyss called.

"Farewell, Blu. You were decent to know, for the human shill you are."

Blu's eyes fell.

And…

… then…

Darkness.