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"Ah, yes," she says and smiles ever so faintly, "My mate was very inspired by Alder, but I don't think he was a clutch mate to your father. I guess it's no surprise that a lot of his children and grandchildren went into gathering."

She takes a moment to study the activity on the platform, but sees nothing out of the ordinary.

"I hope you make his name justice by striving to be a good gatherer," she says sternly to Arbutus.

Fernfeather is sorely tempted by the prospect of catching the thief with their talons in the clan stores, but she still isn't sure about using a Waral. The pale lizard's talk about ripped feathers makes up her mind for her. It would be very bad if it hurt a Sentinel. There is a time and a place for punishment, and it was never meant to be handed out by something as unpredictable as a companion. As a private she once got the unpleasant assignment to cull a Martes that had injured an innocent Sentinel while trying to defend its master's home.

"Hmm..." she says after thinking all this over, "Are you sure it can be trusted around people? And can it be trusted around food? The matron will pluck me if I let it eat from the stores."

She studies the Shadow female briefly. Another gatherer perhaps? She has dismissed the idea of using the Waral, but the prospect of a few more helping talons is giving her hope of investigating the thefts further.

"Have you filled your quotas tonight?" she asks, directing her question to all of the assembled gatherers.

"Oh, yes Ma'am!" Twilla hooted respectfully at the Elite's inquiry about quotas. Truth be told,s he did plan on doing a bit more work, after a bit of a breather, but she had already met her requirements.

Auze eyed the waral with something that could of been considered contempt. He remembered the creature and was a good bit frightened by it... He nestled closely to Tikki as the skurri pressed closer to Twilla's talons.

"Mm, thank you Falchior, your words do mean a great bit!" She tilted her head slightly to the side as she examined the mist type. He certainly seemed old enough to be off on his own and courting his own female, but she could hardly pass judgment. Both of her parents had gone, so she did not have to worry about nagging so much.

The lizard is fed, that's a good thing. Fernfeather nods as the three gatherers give their reports. A plan is forming in her mind, and these three will help her carry it out.

"Excellent," Fernfeather says, with the hint of a smile on her beak, "I require your assistance tonight."

The thought that some of them might have other plans tonight doesn't even cross her mind. She has had a lot of time to think while watching the bustling activity on the platform and her plan is simple and elegant. Something seems to be stolen nearly every night now, and this night Fern wants the thief to be exposed.

"There have been thefts from the platform," she says gravely, "you might have heard that. The thief is cunning and has not been spotted yet. It's very likely that it's someone that is familiar with the platform, or very good at blending in with the crowd."

It bothered Fern that no one seemed to have seen anything despite the fact that most of the thefts had occurred in the middle of the night on the busy platform. Culls, squirrels, rodents – and they all had vanished as soon as someone turned their back for a moment. There were some initial thefts from the stores during daytime, but thankfully those attacks stopped as soon as the Elites started to patrol.

"You," she says, "Arbutus. I want you to mingle with the arrivals on that side of the platform. And you Falchior, you take the other flank and try to blend in with the ones coordinating the take offs."

She eyes the newly mated shadow and considers her options. Falchior had talked about hatchlings and she was not one to endanger a mother.

"You," she finally said to the female, deciding to address her by name despite not being formally introduced, "Twilla, was it? See that branch over there? You should have a good view of the platform from there."

Three pairs of eyes watching from the sidelines and two Sentinels in the most affected areas. If the thief shows up tonight he will be spotted.

"All of you," she barks, "Act natural, keep your eyes open for abnormal behaviour and don't try to be a hero. Tonight we will try to catch the thief in the act, but it's more important to learn what he looks like than to detain him. Leave that to a team of trained elites later."

"Yes Ma'am." Twilla nodded her head as she replied to Fernfeather. In a way, this seemed a bit exciting. She and Falchior would get to help aid an Elite and a fellow gatherer in finding the perpetrator. It certainly was a wingbeat out of the ordinary tasks she repeated every night, not that landing on the ground was dull, one could never know when they were being stalked and the ground was uncomfortable for even the most skilled gatherer.

This time she was doing something different rather than hitting her usual gathering points. Hopefully the trio would be able to help the Elite find the thief!

Some time passes. The organized chaos of the Central Distribution Platform remains unchanged as the faint beams of moonlight that manage to squeeze down through the dense canopy above slowly change their slant. Food is delivered, registered, relocated, assigned and taken away, and everything flows as smoothly as it usually does.

And then, the inevitable happens - Twilla can see it coming, but can't really do anything to prevent it, and Falchior is on the wrong side of the Platform entirely - one incoming Deep Woods hunter has to veer off to avoid a departing Mist gatherer, and loses control for a split second that results in a very clumsy landing: He blunders right into a tightly packed bunch of sentinels that are waiting to be processed. Food scatters everywhere and several feathers are ruffled, resulting in raised voices and much scuffling about - and a bit more shoving and pushing than the situation calls for.

Arbutus, unfortunately, finds himself caught right in the middle of the fray. The Deep Woods hunter that accidentally caused the incident is angrily facing off against a very large Wildtype, practically right in front of him.

"Listen, pal, it's not like I did it on purpose!"
"I am not your pal," the Wildtype replies, glaring down at the smaller bird, "And you obviously fly like a sun-struck chirop!"
"Oh yeah?" The Deep Woods agressively puffs up, adding some bulk to his unimpressive size. "Well, maybe if you were capable of turning your head towards anything but your eight toes, you would have been able to see me coming and step aside!"

Twilla's feathers sleeked as she saw the Deep Woods careening towards the platform.

"H-hey! Wat---" Her words were cut short as the hunter plows into the group of sentinels and food. Unfortunately, she had no time to do anything about the situation. for a moment, she watches the commotion, before coming to her senses that this would be the perfect opportunity for a thief.

She hastily turned her gaze back towards the food and began observing the faces of each sentinel in the immediate area.

Twilla's lapse of attention is not quite as long as Fernfeather's, but as she returns to scrutinizing the bustle of sentinels, she only barely manages to catch a glimpse of... something, moving just out of the corner of her eye. A very swift, very smooth movement, almost like a drop of water running down a sleek feather, from the edge of the great platform right into the fray, where it disappeared from sight in the general hubbub.

It could have been just a trick of the light.

Arbutus, on the other hand, recieves a rough and entirely unintentional shove as the Watcher's brusque approach creates yet another chain reaction. As a result, he is pushed a little further out, where the sentinels are not quite as tightly packed. And that's when he, too, spots a swift, fluid movement through the crowd - decidedly un-sentinel-like. A second glance reveals that what Arbutus has spotted is a Martes, deep brown in color and with a distinctive pattern painted in black onto its paws and tail.

It obviously belongs to someone, and it is not unusual for Hunters and Gatherers to bring their companions to the Platform with them, but this one doesn't seem to have anyone looking out for it... which is unusual. Especially around all this food.

"All right!" The booming, official-sounding voice of the Watcher rings out. "Break it up! No fighting! Everyone, return to your positions in the line!"

Falchior hears the fighting as he scans the air around the platform, looking for late incomers. Turning he head, he watches the mess, a bit dismayed. He can't see anything from this side of the platform... But maybe Rokku could... Nudging his Waral, he whispers "Go. Watch on the tree, and don't do anything stupid." The lizard slithers around the trunk of the tree, tongue flickering. As his companion hides himself, Falchior puffs up to his full fluffiness and hop-waddles towards the chaos on the other side, looking for the others. If they've seen anything, maybe he can help.