The first word is ashtray (CENICERO). Then the dictionary gave us a quail (CODORNIZ) and the king that follows her (REY DE CODORNICES) even when she gets lost (PERDERSE). And on that page we found another word, PERDIGON, that could be a pellet or a young partridge.
The story begins with a quail that gets lost easily. That works in her favor, though, it helps her avoid the pellets the hunters fire at her. But that quail is such a coveted prize, that the hunters refuse to give up. The forest floor ends up covered in pellets. And the king has to pick them up.
One by one, the king puts those pellets in the ashtray he keeps under one of his wings, and he keeps following the quail through the forest. But after a while the weight becomes too much, and when he takes out the ashtray to get rid of some pellets, the king realizes that they have turned into young partridges. And he doesn’t take another step. He loses sight of the quail. Because for the first time in his life, that king has someone willing to follow him.
I like my name. I am a little partridge now, but I like it when people use my former name. Pellet. Isn’t it pretty? Someone told me that I could have been used to hurt other birds, but that the shot missed its mark. He told me that I was good, and that is why I was rewarded. I was good. I didn’t hurt anyone. And I got to become a bird. One that will fly someday. Isn’t it great?
If I had been left on the forest floor, I would have become poison. Because pellets taste like blood, they taste of metal. Heavy things, that make flying impossible. And I am glad that that is not who I am. That I am not a burden. That I am not poison. I will forever be grateful to the king that picked me up from the floor and put me in an ashtray. So that I could become a little partridge, without hurting any birds. Not even their dreams.
There was no egg. I was born from a pellet. From something that was meant to hurt other flying creatures, like the one I will soon become. I was born in an ashtray, and I have followed my king since I took my first steps. My king has told me time and time again that no one blames me for anything. That I am free to live my life, that there is nothing I should atone for. But if that is true, why can’t I fly like all the other good little birds do? I can feel it in my wings. They won’t take me very high. And if that isn’t a punishment, I don’t know what could be.
How you feel doesn’t matter. Feeling like a king doesn’t make you one. Only other people can put a crown on your head. That is something that my king taught me. I was a pellet, but he made me a partridge. He needed a retinue, he needed a devoted follower, and that is what I became. A little flightless bird. That still hasn’t figured out how to take that crown from its king’s head.
I am a quail, of course I am afraid of something, how could I not be? Right now I am the most coveted prize in this forest. Everyone wants me. Don’t you hear the shots? My worst fear isn’t being caught. It’s being forgotten. I fear the day a more beautiful bird lands in this forest. The day no one shoots at me anymore.
Fear? What is that? I know this forest like the back of my hand. I know where to hide. Look at my feathers, don’t they look just like the ground? I even have a little bit of the sky in me. I can fly away in a pinch. I know how to protect myself. What is there to fear?
Someone told me that the best way to lose sight of myself was camouflage. That I should choose a place I could fall in love with, and do my best to blend in. That I should take a little bit of the ground, a little bit of the sky, and everything would be all right. That if I chose the hugest thing imaginable, in time, I would find something to love. Because loving someone else is always easier than loving oneself. And once I found it, I would know that I had it too, that the thing I loved had to be somewhere in me too. And that certainty would make it easier to find. It would make learning to love myself easier, for sure.
Try not to be so obvious. I told you to look, but I don’t want him to notice you. Is he still following us? That king that doesn’t seem to have anything better to do with his life. I wish he would find another pastime. But who am I to judge? I like getting lost in this forest. If he likes to pick up after me, maybe I should let him. After all, I don’t have any use for those ugly pellets.
You are mine. You will be good enough. I will learn to love you. You will follow me, wherever I lead. And that will be enough, to forget that you are a hand-me-down. That you used to be a pellet. Meant for her. One of the many pellets, that didn’t even get close to her skin.
I feel like I understand her a little bit better now. The reason she always ran to the forest to hide, to get away from me. I wished these little partridges into existence. I wanted to be needed. I wanted to be followed. But now I wish I knew that forest as well as she does. I wish I knew where all the hiding places are. The ones that would allow me to lose all these little partridges, that I no longer want in my wake.
Finally, finally, finally! After all this time I can finally stop following her. I can leave her in the forest, lost, amidst the trees, where I won’t have to look at her anymore. She gets her wish, and I get mine. Finally, someone to follow me and only me.
Who knew that something so ugly would be able to grant my heart’s desire?