Page 22 of Wayfinder
“What is it?” Pearl moved closer, her fresh floral scent chasing away the blood and death clinging to the fowl.
“The wing is broken.”
“You must have done it in the fight,” she suggested.
I pulled a small knife from my bandolier, cutting the skin away at the breakpoint. “No. It kept its wings folded as we fought. I remember wondering why it didn’t flee to the air.” I peeled back a section of skin, uncovering the pale-yellow bone beneath. The edges of the bone looked clean, almost sterile, like it was sawed apart, not broken.
“Look how evenly the bone is broken.”
I felt Pearl’s hand touch my thigh as she leaned closer to inspect. My entire body jolted from her touch, but now was not the time.
“That’s weird,” she agreed, her blunt white teeth worrying at her lower lip.
I started to move the wing away when a glint of sunlight highlighted something metallic lodged in the soft feathers, confirming my suspicion.
“Look at this.” I pulled the tiny pieces from the wing, like grains of Pearl’s salt, only silver.
“What is it?” She touched a fingertip to one of the kernels in my palm.
“Part of whatever was used to break the struzzi’s wing.”
Pearl sat back on her heels, blinking at me. “You think somebody purposefully broke this bird’s wing?”
I nodded, watching her frown deepen.
“Why?”
“The same reason someone perforated the behia’s lung. To make it easier for us to hunt and kill the prey.”
The frown grew even deeper.
“Why?”
I took a deep breath and voiced my suspicions. “Because someone wants you to win.”
Pearl jumped to her feet, blue eyes simmering. “Are you fucking kidding me? Somebody is cheating to make sure I win?”
I nodded.
“Are you sure it’s me they’re trying to help? Anyone of the contestants could have found the animals we did.”
“Not really,” I sighed, clamoring to my feet. “The shuttle tracks the skiff’s location. Whoever tampered with the behia and struzzi knew the animals were in our hunting zone."
Pearl growled, a sound worthy of a warrior.
“Well, that’s it. I’m quitting the contest.” She ranted, kicking up a cloud of dirt with the toe of her boot. “I’ve won Iron Chef and a host of other cooking competitions a dozen times or more, all fair and square. I won’t be party to a rigged contest. I have my reputation to think about.” Pearl dropped to her knees beside the carcass, flinging feathers into the air. “Stupid Baron.”
“You can’t quit,” I said and dodged a sliver of bone flung in my direction.
“Like hell I can’t,” she huffed. “Not only am I going to quit—I’m telling the other contestants about the cheating.”
“Pearl, listen.” I knelt beside her, capturing her wrists in my hands. Her erratic movements stilled, but ire danced in her blue eyes, turning the color dark and stormy. “You can’t quit. There’s more going on here than just the contest.”
“What do you mean?” Pearl tensed, the color of her eyes going lighter.
I drew a deep breath. It wasn’t a question of whether or not to confide in Pearl. I trusted her.
How strange was that? I trusted this tiny human female as much as my Vaktaire brethren, more than some, if I was being honest.
