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Typhoon was more upset than anything. The death of a chick--any chick, if they were sickly or not--saddened him. The Ghost Minder had been around long enough to realize the Lawspeakers knew what they were talking about sentence-wise, but this was such a serious matter.

He remembered talking with Granny about the death of that chick earlier in the season. Ty hadn't heard much beyond that it had died. Similarly, he hadn't heard much about this until now. The Minder wasn't one much for gossip, he was busy enough chasing fledglings around.

Typhoon mused over the Lawspeaker's words. Premeditated murder. It was a phrase foreign to Typhoon's beak, having never thought to hurt another Sentinel, and especially not thought about it and then carried it out. He was starting to feel anger build around his sorrow, and his golden eyes flashed dangerously. For the first time in a long time, Ty felt angry.

"What do you think, Snowpeak?" Typhoon asked, looking at his charge with concern. He knew how Snowpeak felt about weaker fledglings, but he hoped he had instilled enough care in Snowpeak that he knew this was beyond wrong.

Snowpeak fumed in silence, his eyes still fixed on Basil. Bushfire didn’t exist to him. She looked guilty, almost relieved and acceptant of her small punishment. But Basil… hearing his voice made the fledgling’s blood boil. He knew this feeling all too well and it took all his strength to remain still on the branch. He grasped it in an attempt not to drop down and berate at the Lawspeaker, shaking violently.

The mist was so angry now that he had to release his aggression somehow and the closest sentinel present was, obviously, his minder whose question only seemed to upset him even further. Obviously not thinking clearly, all his thoughts were instantly converted into words and his voice rose steadily in tone until he was easy to hear by anyone around him who bothered to pay attention.

“Why aren’t you angrier, Typhoon? You’re a minder, you like kids. How can you just listen to that? Why aren’t you angrier? He killed his own son and hid everything! He just killed him because, because… because he was weaker! Because he was different! He’s not even getting a real punishment! I was different too, Typhoon and you gave me a chance. Why didn’t he give his son a chance? When I… when I did that to your mu… to Dune, you were furious! So why aren’t you furious now?!”

His eyes were now intently fixed on the minder’s and a constant wave of tremors shook him in the branch. There were things he’d rather not say in public and his words come out in a confused mess but his meaning is simple:

I was bad, too! There was something wrong with me and maybe there still is but I was given a chance. You gave me a chance. What kind of father kills his own child without doing at least that?

Rosso nodded, seemingly pleased with the meek answers from the two Wildtypes. With the announcing of punishment out of the way he turned his attention to the assembled Sentinels. He nodded to a nearby Watcher who straightened up and made a visible effort to look important.

"Behold the criminals: Basil the Crafter and Bushfire the Forager," the strong voiced Watcher bellowed, "Now be silent, and listen to Rosso the Lawspeaker tell you all about their horrible crime."

It might seem like a backwards way of doing this, but perhaps the old Seeker enjoyed building up some suspense before explaining it all. Either way, it was now time for the "humiliation" part of this public humiliation. The watcher looked pleased with his role in this, but he was probably chosen more for voice strength than for anything else. Rosso cleared his throat and waited until the noise died down.

"This story is a tragic one," the old Lawspeaker began, focusing more on the audience now than on the two accused. "Basil and Bushfire had a clutch, but it failed. Out of two eggs laid, one chick died before even hatching, and the other... the other suffered from an illness. An illness that made its feathers partially white." He paused for a moment, letting the audience reach their own conclusions about this condition. Though he hadn't said the word, it hung heavy in the air: Aberrant. The inexplicable kind of Aberrant, and all that that entailed - weakness, sickliness, risk of contagion... A failed clutch indeed.

"However," Rosso's voice gained an edge and cut through the silent gasps and whispers that breezed through the crowd, "Beyond the colors of its feathers, there seems to have been no reason to believe that the chick would not be able to survive. And that is where the tragedy of the matter lies." He turned back towards the two accused and looked from one to the other before he resumed speaking. "Both of your families have admitted to having encouraged you to remove the chick from your lives and move on. No one, however, expected you to go as far as you did."

The last part had been directed almost exclusively towards Basil, with a tone of voice as dark and cold as the Longest Night itself. Then Rosso turned to Bushfire, and his voice returned to normal. After the previous frost, it sounded almost friendly:

"Bushfire, the Seekers have asked me to take your situation into consideration, and while I am sympathetic to your distraught, the fact remains that you did nothing to stop your mate from killing your chick. By failing to support him as a mate should, you are partially responsible for the death of this chick. Therefore your punishment is to act and support in helping these other chicks, sickly just like yours, to survive."

He turned to Basil again, no longer waiting for any replies to his monologue.

"Basil. It was you who did the slaying. The murder of a chick that could have lived to be a productive member of society. You have explained that you felt pressured, even encouraged to do as you did, but the Seekers have found no evidence of that. You felt that you had no other choice, and perhaps comforted yourself with the thought that the chick was too weak and sick to survive anyway, but you know very well that there were other ways to have handled the situation. For the life you took, no matter how pressured or forced you felt that you were, your punishment is to sustain the life of other sickly chicks, to see them develop, live and become worthy members of society. I hope you learn from it."

He let the end of his sentence ring out into silence for a moment, and then gave the loud-voiced Watcher another nod.

"The Lawspeaker has spoken!" the Watcher immediately boomed out. "Heed him well, and do not repeat the crimes of Bushfire the Forager, and Basil the Crafter!"

Highfog listened silently to Rosso. An Aberrant ! She knew it! She slowly shook her head in pity. Poor kid.
The Teacher was not stupid, and realized too that unless a miracle happened, Basil had just been sentenced to life. However, she didn’t care very much about that. She reminded herself that the Lawspeaker’s punishment is just, always, and those among the clan who find it wrong still have a lot to learn.
…then again, the clan members can always help. Fog contributed further to the social punishment by hooting again and saying very spitefully “May wasps fly down your throats and sting you nastily, owls!”

Wait, is that a familiar voice? Highfog turned her head, and was surprised to find a fledgling she knew. How could she have missed him? He was only one branch away. Seeing that he was very disappointed and angry, she did a small hop to come closer, but then she realized he was talking to Typhoon, and thought it might be best to leave them alone unless the boy asks otherwise. Instead of talking to the Mist, the Ghost made a bit more noise of questionable vulgarity directed to the murdering parents. Past this point, it was less of an expression of anger than plain hateful insults. Feeling better already, Fog was rejoiced to find the exercise as therapeutic as expected.

Moonstride was settled quietly a fair distance away from the main mass of sentinels watching the event. With cold blue eyes, she stared down towards the two on trial and studied their reactions as Rosso recounted their punishments and wrongs. A small frown settled on the Elite's expression when Moon realized exactly what they were punished for. Her gaze flickered from this Basil to Bushfire. They both held their stance and emotions that hopefully, if they had any sympathy for life, were ranging with guilt and shame. However, the gathered onlookers were not so likely to stay silent and began muttering amongst themselves the instant the Lawspeaker's first round of words died away.

The punishment was interesting to say the least. From the expressions that lurked on the faces of most of the audience, many felt it to be weak or unjust. However, they probably did not realize how mentally pressured these two will be during the duration of the sentence and all their lives. Actually, Moon hoped the two wildtypes will see the extent of their errors and failures during their punishment, within the faces of every chick they encounter. She hoped if one died, their guilt will be renewed; and if one lived, a realization will dawn upon them and whisper in their sinful ears that they killed a life that could have lived. She hoped that once this was over, shame fell on their names every moment another sentinel spoke of them, and that, to an extent, their life will be taken away from them in return for taking a life that was not theirs to take.

Then, before she knew it, Rosso was speaking again. The crowd hushed again to listen.

Suddenly, Moonstride could feel the tide begin to change. The twilight elite was no stranger to the harsh criticism of pure-blooded major types. She could almost hear the opinions in some minds being to alter and sympathy run through other individuals. It was as though the cruelty of the crime was lessened now that the victim was an aberrant, a mutation, and a weaker kind. A dull rage filled her veins beneath her stony expression. Her eyed closed for moment before she was able to return her cold eyes to the scene without faltering.

Fiercefire shifted her weight from one foot to the other, back and forth, fidgeting terribly. She wasn't typically an anxious sort by any means, but she could hear the crowd as well as anyone; unlike the crowd, she needed to keep her anger contained, because it was them she wanted to hiss at. How dare they? They didn't even know the whole story, not nearly. They didn't know that Basil was different. Changed, not like that Forager witch.

But finally, the Lawspeaker was finished. She glanced around for a moment more before making what was possibly a rash decision...for all she knew, Basil was meant to sit up there alone and stay there awhile, but she was sick of sitting here and watching. And anyway, what did she care about getting into trouble, especially now?

The Trapper left her perch for the stripped branch that was Basil's...well, and Bushfire's, but she'd get nothing but a cold shoulder.

"So it is true," Bracken murmured to himself, "He did go easy on her."

He'd been watching from the eves for some time now, quietly remaining hidden until after the ceremony was over. There were many things he'd learned from this entire plot- disturbing things, humiliating things, and some things that he felt he was better off not knowing. Bracken had grown a little, though it was hard to tell how much, and it'd made him a bit keener on where to rest his wings when such proceedings were going on.
Who knows the reaction someone might have from seeing me here, he thought to himself, and preened one of his feathers to quell the thought.

In some ways, he was glad that this was the end. He'd done his duty, and ultimately gotten what he wanted out of things; but it had been a tough ride for how long it had lasted, and it had taken a toll on him. Bracken settled a little into himself, content to watch and listen until someone moved against him.

People are angry, he noticed, But what does it matter? It's justified. Though I do still think it wiser to have gotten rid of that abberant hatchling than kept it around... but Rosso couldn't say that in public, either.

A few minutes afterwards, Fog started breathing more slowly, feeling better now than during the verdict. Oblivious and focused on her own well-being, she didn’t notice Dodger flying away. She ignored for the most part the crowd’s relief and comments as well: she didn’t want to deal with this personally today, and half of these weren’t ever heard anyway. During lessons, the Ghost would never afford to ignore her surroundings in a similar way, but around adults, she usually loosened up and stopped being as vigilant.

The Teacher simply looked back to see how Snowpeak and his Minder were doing. Alas, she didn’t catch any word of their conversation, and had no idea they shared roughly the same point of view. As soon as Typhoon was done explaining, she asked with a calmer, more maternal voice: “Is everything alright?”
She lowered her eyes. The poor Mist seemed so distraught… “Is he okay?”