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This part of Deep Woods was more crowded than usual tonight. It was the kind of event Minders and Teachers liked to visit with their fledglings in order to show them what might happen if they were naughty. But many Sentinels wanted to see those who had dared to break Sentinel law and hear all about their punishment. Watchers discretely surrounded the chosen area and all kinds of Sentinels waited for the Lawspeaker to arrive.

When he swooped down on his chosen perch the crowd fell silent. Rosso was an old Deep Woods gentleman with many years of experience and he was known to be harsh but fair. He surveyed the crowd with keen and observant eyes before settling his gaze on the two sentinels that were the centre of everyone's attention today. The accused, Basil and Bushfire, had been placed pretty far out on a sturdy branch that jutted right out into the air, at a fairly convenient speaking distance from the Lawspeaker. The branch had been stripped of everything but its bark, and the surrounding area had been just as carefully cleared out so that anyone sitting on said branch would be easily visible from almost any angle.

It was a terribly uncomfortable place to be for any sentinel but, of course, that was half the point.

Seekers had already done the wing work, but Rosso himself had met and questioned those involved to be able to judge fairly. This was meant to be a public display of shame, and there was little room for the accused to speak. Rosso lifted his gaze from the accused and took in the crowd once more, making eye contact with just enough of the gathered sentinels to make everyone feel as though he was speaking directly to them.

"You all know what our laws say," the old Lawspeaker boomed, "No Sentinel is allowed to kill another Sentinel. But Basil and Bushfire did just that."

He paused, waiting for the indignant gasps and whispers to die down before he continued.

"Basil," he said, turning his keen, disapproving frown on the blue-eyed Wildtype. "It takes a special kind of Sentinel to kill its own flesh and blood. You both discussed it, but you were the one murdering your own child. Not a wise decision, no matter what kind of pressure you might have experienced."

He then turned toward Bushfire.

"Don't blame yourself for this dreadful business," he said with unexpected gentleness, "It's a well known fact that females can get a little bit... ah... distraught when a clutch fails. It is understandable that you could not stop your mate from doing what he did."

"Still," he said, frowning, and every trace of the gentle old man from before was gone. "You both had a responsibility for the chick, and I can't let this pass without punishment. There are other ways to deal with unwanted hatchlings. If a chick appears to be sickly it's better to let a trained Minder evaluate if it should be tumbled from the nest or not."

Specific details: The first posts of this thread are meant for Basil and Bushfire. No one else is allowed to post before the Herald has posted again. Everyone will have the chance to play, but not until the thread is marked as "open".

The unflinching, soulless eyes of a shadowy moth pass their unblinking stare over the silent pair of tawny Sentinels. There's a unspoken contest in progress, and the sad pair of eyes that stare back into the moth's painted wings are well aware of the bleak futility of it all. Basil would love nothing more then to switch places with his tiny observer. Where do you suppose he could have gotten to by now, if he'd only decided to listen to his instincts and leave when he'd had the chance? Where could he have gotten to, before he was inevitably caught? Basil had never figured he would end like this, so publicly, his life and deeds laid bare.

... where would he be right now, had she never died?

Basil doesn't have much time to muse any further, for as his last thought occurs to him, the venerable Lawspeaker Rosso, finally approaches into open view. The young crafter doesn't manage to remove his eyes from the old Deep Woods at any point, not until his eventual landing in front of them. He hadn't noticed, but his mute company had silently departed amidst the entrance of the old one. No doubt fed up with the rising level of activity about its resting place, and gone in search of vacant trees.

Basil tries to remain still under the announcement of his crimes, but the collective disapproval of the gathered mob forces a nervous shiver down the length of his spine. Just how many of the faces out there knew of him? Would anyone from the family have turned out for this, were they hidden somewhere amongst the crowd?... Where's Fi?

... please... don't let her be here.

Only as the honorable Lawspeaker turns his attention towards Bushfire, does Basil start to feel a tiny hint of defiance beginning to take hold inside him...

She's not my mate.

Despite what Basil might have hoped, Fi was there, sporting healing scratches across her face and glaring hatefully at Bushfire...but most certainly not for the scratches. Not even for digging all of this up, for trying to ruin everything. No, her seething anger was to do with the Lawspeaker and his 'punishment,' his clear favor towards the Forager. 'Don't blame yourself,' he'd said, as though being female excused her any more than Basil being Basil excused him.

The Trapper clacked her beak to herself in anger, not caring in the least if anyone noticed. That spiteful, inbred hussy had attacked Fira - Fira! Fira, who was practically a child still. That alone would have been more than enough reason to incur Fiercefire's wrath. If she'd known that when she'd encountered Bushfire...ohhh, she wouldn't have stopped at driving her away! She dug her talons into her perch at the very thought, wishing she'd come away with more of Bushfire than a few feathers.

Still, she soothed her ire, storing it away for another time. She wasn't here to glare at the other female; she was here because Basil was here, and he was her mate. And whatever Bushfire might have hoped, she had no intentions of becoming the Crafter's second ex-mate. His past had nothing to do with her. She knew him now, and loved him for who he was now. That was all she needed to know.

Bushfire wasn’t the only who considered it a weak punishment.

On a particularly high branch, a large mist fledgling was sitting tensely next to a larger Ghost. The fledgling’s plumage stood on end giving him a rather odd appearance but his wild fiery eyes that rushed from one of the accused to the other, showed that his ruffled feathers were the least of his concerns.

They had killed their own child. What… how… no. NO! Never in his life had Snowpeak seen an adult ever show any sign of aggression towards a fledgling. He was one to know as he had often deserved it. Right now, there was a fear inside him that he couldn’t ignore and it was one that obliterated his every thought. He eyed Basil as if he was a monster, the feared creature from the Above, a sentinel-murderer.

Could it have been him? He knew why he’d been sent to Typhoon’s enclave. He’d been born different, maybe not in appearance but someone had seen flaws in him. If Basil had been that minder, could Snowpeak have somehow been tumbled from his nest at an early age? What of Moonstride? Would the aberrant Elite have grown up and lived long enough to save his life had her egg been in the talons of someone who thought she was too different to live?

And… that’s it? Give food and help an Enclave. They’d be out there soon. He’d murdered his own child! His eyes were fixed on Basil now, as if the unyielding stare could somehow burn the sentinel. Snowpeak hissed softly under his breath.

I don’t understand.

Typhoon shook his head sadly to himself. Any Minder in the Enclave he lived in would have taken the young chick under their wing, and if not, they would have found a place for them. Ty himself would have taken the chick in! It was so frustrating...it was understandable that new parents would be under a fair amount of stress, but not to the point of killing a chick for the color of their feathers.

Why weren't they happy they had a chick at all? Ty had never had a chick of his own, though it was clear he had pined for one with his late mate, or he would have never become a Minder. He only wished he could have found Basil and Bushfire before this terrible thing happened.

Though Typhoon was excited to hear about the new Minder's Enclave in the Not Cold to take care of the sick fledglings. Maybe he could go up and visit, see if he could help out here or there. But that poor fledgling...He shook his head out of his thoughts and shuffled closer to Snowpeak, preening his eartufts.

How Snowpeak would take this, Typhoon wasn't sure. Snowpeak had been left at his Enclave, just like this chick would have, if they were still alive. Snowpeak had every right to be angry, but Ty had to make sure this angry was tunneled in the right direction. The Lawspeaker's punishment was just, Ty wasn't one to question. But he had to explain to Snowpeak why, and that would be difficult. He waited for the male..Basil, wasn't it? to respond.

New to the area and circling round following the buzz of rumors clack-and-chattering from everyone's beaks, Minke had found a seat at the Reckoning despite having no business here. Resting on a branch some feet above Typhoon and his charge, she listened, mystified, to Rosso's pronouncement. That male had killed his chick? Why? Why didn't he say why? If the male had killed a chick in cold blood, surely they wouldn't be sending him to act as a Minder, there was NO logic in that...her eartufts lowered as she stared at the two pale Sentinels stranded out on their barren limb, thinking. Minke had never known a Wildtype personally, only talked to a few in her short time here, and she wondered about these birds, sleek and small and beautiful, and what it could be in their selves that was capable of murdering a little chick. Her feathers rose out slightly as her imagination got the better of her - what was a new hatchling the size of, a squirrel, a feathery Mus, a squealing hare - and she yelped a small 'who' as she blinked her way out of it.

When she arrived, Highfog had expected... something else. She had no idea what kind of drama had been going on. Of course, something serious, one does not simply expect a Lawspeaker over daily disagreements.
That's why her face grew a terrified expression as she was listening to Rosso.
The Ghost gaped, slowly, in almost a comical way. A hatchling was killed? Because he was sickly? By his own father? And it was premeditated? By both parents?! Good Noctus, was it even possible? Not only these Wildtypes were bigoted, but they also were completely stupid. If they didn't want to take care of an Aberrant (she assumed it was the case, or else they wouldn't have mentionned having him left to the Minders instead), why didn't they leave him to the Minders? Nobody would have known that. The kid could have had a good life, and both sides would have ignored each other.
As a Ghost, she was aware some types are... less legitimate than others. She was never mistreated, of course, but she couldn't ignore Ghosts had been Aberrants too at some point in history. Somewhere in the back of her brain, she wondered if her real parents, or several students, could have been banned from the community, had everyone else been bigoted.

However, her conscious mind didn't follow the same train of thoughts. Her fears were left in a corner of her brain, and instead, as her beak widened, Fog let out a low noise. The Teacher was pissed off -of course, the Lawspeaker speaks, well, the law, and what he says is what ought to be- , and she frowned. She knew that if she heard any nasty rumour about Basil's new "Mindees", something bad would happen. Bad, as in "a Lawspeaker will be needed for this case, too".
Quite angered, she hooted agressively in Basil's and Bushfire's direction. Her noise could be likened to the growl of a rabid fox. Somewhat. Actually, no, they weren't similar in any way, but she could have been mistaken as rabid, herself.
She managed to growl "I hope lizards bite your eartufts off, and your tailfeathers, too" before reverting to a hoot.

Silverbirch had been quietly watching the proceedings all along. She looked calm enough, but her eyes betrayed a feeling of disbelief, shock and outrage.

Killing... your own child... a child. An innocent, innocent child.

Eyes narrowed, the mist clicked her beak in anger. Like Snowpeak she felt the punishment weak, and was just about to let out a hoot when her attention was caught by another sentinel inching closer, and closer, and closer. Silverbirch opened her mouth to warn the almost-adult of a potential collision when the aberrant keened, shaking her head and inched closer.. (look out!).. then seemed to calm down.

The mist observed the younger sentinel's behaviour quietly. An aberrant. Letting her gaze slide between Basil and Bushfire then back to the one beside her, Silverbirch felt her heart going out to the patchy one. She did not seem to have noticed her yet.

"Are you alright, friend?" Birch hooted softly, careful not to startle her. Obviously she was not, but the mist had no idea what else to say.