Day Two: Afternoon

[Zangya]

The path had not become much harder for the jade-skinned woman, and it would continue to remain that easy as long as she felt the warmth of her beloved Gokua’s hand touching her hand as they walked alongside one another. She smiled as she adjusted the pack on her shoulder, looking out to the endless plain that she was walking on—she had left the city behind long ago, and now, as she stared out at the falling sun, she felt complete.

She hadn’t made it this far last year. As she watched the sun drop slowly to the edge of the horizon, it dawned upon her more and more that she was doing better this year than last. The green tinted lady remembered last year, how she had not lasted a single day—she had been in the competition just a little bit more than eighteen hours last year.

“Can we stop here for the night, Gokua?” she asked him. “I’m tired.” The blue man that stood beside her, and turned. He stroked her orange hair, still tied in one pigtail that hung off to the side, and nodded. “Thank you,” she said, and she sat down, laying the survival bag she’d stolen from Bojack beside her. Gokua looked down at her, and she looked up to him, asking him for help silently—and his look signified that he was reminding her that he was a figment of her imagination, and he could not assist her in any way.

So, she did it by herself. She set up the fire, and got it running. She sat down beside the fire as the dusk came closer and closer, and ate her dinner. Evening wasn’t quite yet there, but Zangya was ready for it to be. She wanted to sleep—she didn’t want to remain awake any longer. She was tired. She needed rest.

She lay down by the fire, her eyes staring into the blaze. Gokua shuffled over to her, sitting down behind her and stroking her hair again. The two lovers stared longingly at the fire as it danced magnificently before them, entertaining them like a classic tribal ritual would also entertain savages sitting around a blaze of the magnitude Zangya had created. Gokua looked down at his love, a thought suddenly crossing his mind.

“Zangya,” he said, speaking for the first time since she’d killed Bojack, “Why did you pick him to kill?”

“Because…” Her voice was weak, and she felt as if she was going to have to strain to reveal the answer to him. It was silly, but it was something that had plagued her since he had joined their group.

“He reminded me of you.”