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And suddenly Cedar realized that he couldn't move, his branch was so densly packed. With a little hoot of alarm, he glowered at the invaders and took up into the air, scanning the trees for an empty branch. Out of the corner of the hunter's eye, he saw the Spectre and winced a little. Such a disturbed-looking thing, no ear tufts or fur on his feet. And his eyes... Ced frowned a little more, choosing to ignore it. "Ah!"

The branch was somewhat empty. Moreso then the others, anyways. Silently he perched next to the albino owl. Hmm, Ced had heard about him. A medic, right? He almost asked but decided it didn't really matter. The wildtype didn't really want to add to the clamor, anyways.

Tempest stared in surprise at the strange female who was talking to him. "Mama?" He looked to Citrine who looked as though she might fall apart at the sudden kindness.

The minder shook herself. "Why thank you, miss. It's most kind of you to offer." Gold eyes turned to her young charge who waited patiently while eying the items in the sack. "Go ahead, Tempest. Have your pick."

The Spectre chick stepped forward and carefully picked out a nut. He had seen the Parus eat them and often wondered what it tasted like.

"Oh? You're the mother?" She eyed Tempest for a moment before looking back. "Quite a different one you got there." It, at first, wasn't clear weither or not Starling was rejecting the chick or not she seemed to be merely staring at the little one. Then, as though suddenly realizing herself, she perked back up and smiled. "Well, I'm not one to talk. I was as odd as they come in my chickhood; my dear parents had to practically tie me to a tree to keep me from trying to dive to the forest floor. An odd obsession I had in my youngin days."

She was in the middle of her rant when Liam had touched down. Starling, however, didn't seemed to notice him until she finished. At the sound of the male's voice, she jumped and looked over. "Oh! Didn't see ya there!" She then bobbed her head lightly. "Don't see why not, dear Sir." She looked at her 'customers' proudly. "Ya'll can just call me Starling. Miss mother, why don't you have your pick too? It's a long day and I might not have any left over if you wait, you see."

Rune flitted down from the higher branches to peer down at the minder and the strange new hatching. She felt and apprehension that could be explained by no other reason as inherent mistrust and the anger of many years that had seen such devastation come from one who looked such as this chick did. However Runewing was wise enough to accept that though this chick had in his blood the same blood that had burned to kill those of hers he had done no crime. In fact she looked upon him as if he was a great misfortune, having been hatched in a place such as this, were hostile eyes followed his every move with disdain and hate. Rune felt her own eyes narrowing, who could blame her? Or anyone? It was the way all were raised, to hate who they had never known, despite the playful joking to make troublesome hatchings behave. It was ingrained into them all like the scars on a weathered old tree, but perhaps it was indeed just like such a tree. Scars could heal and a tree could continue to grow.

Noticing that it was rude to stare and not introduce herself, Rune hopped down to the branch and re-situated her wings. "So this is the one responsible for the commotion?" Now that she was closer she found the Spectre to be quite small and unimposing. "Are you his Minder?" Rune inquired to the golden-eyed Sentinel nearest the chick. Rune was curious to see if the chick had demonstrated any prowess in his ability to control his Will, something that was of keen interest to her despite any strange appearances.

Tousled could just n** herself! Why, oh why had she bothered sneaking all the way up to Birch if she was just going to announce her presence like that anyway? She looked down and shuffled uncomfortably under the gaze of the elegant Shadow, trying hard not to fluff herself up in embarrassment. When he finally stepped aside, she mumbled something indistinguishable that sounded vaguely like a "thank you", and concentrated on the tangled string with an almost fierce scowl. The thread meekly succumbed to her Will and begun untying itself, running like a serpe back through its own loops, one at a time.

It only hitched once, when Tousled caught the words "...her feathers..." in a tiny fledgling-voice and lost her concentration for a moment. She took another breath, fluffed up just a little, and swiftly undid the unintended tangle that she had caused.

She was almost starting to wish that she hadn't come at all.

Tousled looked up in surprise when Birch spoke to her. She had actually almost forgotten that he was there in all the stress of feeling watched. Most of the tension immediately drained off of her, and she gave him a very warm, somewhat grateful smile.

That's right... at least HE's not letting himself be bothered by my looks. That's so nice.

She shyly backed away a little, to give him room for his performance - she had had quite enough of the limelight herself for one evening. Birch drew himself up and addressed the crowd -- and drew the attention back to Tousled all over again, just as she had been about to quietly blend into the crowd. She closed her eyes for a moment and concentrated on not fluffing up, thinking to herself that maybe it wouldn't be so bad if Birch would mind her appearance just a little. Sometimes.

Tuft didn't help at all. He landed briefly on her head, chirped "Sing-sing!" in his happiest, loudest voice, and then flitted off again to make a grand loop around the impromptu "stage".

Hazel sighed contentedly as the Brigadier finished his tale. It always brought memories flooding back, of a much younger Hazel and a not-so-much-younger Brigadier. She had long associated the imposing bird with fun and stories more than most in her fledgling group, who seemed to have taken to the idea of him as being quite frightening. Not so she, and from her perch she watched him shuffle back into the shadows with a deep affection and a proud little shuffle. Perhaps she would think about going to say hello later, but she knew how The Brigadier tried to impress with his tales, and that fluttering over just yet would ruin the mood a wee. No, much better to fly about among the others a bit until the event was in full swing, and then perhaps go to him.

Looking around for someone she knew as her wings twitched open, she spotted none other than Thorn, Liam's charge. She took off his way without a second though, only later reminding herself that it was much more crowded here, nothing like Home. She'd have to be sharp to not hit any trees or friends, and of course no companions. They didn't seem to take that well. At least for now it didn't seem to be an issue as her smaller form had less trouble avoiding obstacles than most. That is, until the tantalizing odor of the prepared food drifted to her. A slight falter in her attention sent her plowing head-on into some poor random Parus, who let out an alarmed chatter and took off after righting himself without a backwards glance.

"...Oops..." Hazel mused from the branch she'd managed to catch onto. "Looks like someone will be going home one companion less." She watched it go, looking to see at least if anyone would call after it, so she could apologize. But no, no one reacted to claim the little bird, and so she hopped into the air again (remembering the check the skies this time) and flapped her way to Thorn. Reaching the little fledgling's perch, she flared her wings, landing softly beside him.

"Hello Thorn, good to see you again. Is Liam about?" She blinked (owlishly, for lack of a better word) at Hawthorn a moment, then seemed to come to herself. "Oh, right. Must say hello!" She extended awing slightly, as if to wave. "Hello! I'm Hazel. I don't think we've had the pleasure!"

"Oi, oi, them gotta Flatface outta nest! Flatface outta nest!" Moth perched attop Odd's snowy head and announced Temptest's presence to him. Her words were quick and quite blunt.

"That isn't a nice thing to call him, Moth." Odd Winter scolded his chirop charge quietly and tilted his head forward, causing her to fall. She caught herself as she fell past the branch and fluttered back to him.

"S'what 'e looks like, Flatface, t'me, yissyiss." She jabbered on and pointed in the direction of Citrine and Tempest. "Looka funny, looka funny like you."

"Tell me one good reason I don't snap you up, I swear..." Odd fluffed out his pale feathers and snapped his beak in irritation, but he couldn't help but to be interested in the fledgling he had yet to see.

"Lead me to 'em, Moth..." He sighed and lifted rather ungracefully off of his perch. He flew silently after his spastic little chirop on unsteady wings. He was glad, more than ever, for the dark of Deep Woods.