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After several nights of fruitless search the Warden arrived to the outpost and called off the search. He visited the young female to comfort her. And spoke to her as if he didn't think she was crazy.

"It's dangerous out there," the seasoned Sentinel said and blinked slowly, "I remember a young scout getting lost around these parts when I was still young. He lost his way on the way from one outpost to another and wasn't missed at once. See, those in the first outpost was sure he had reached his destination, and those in the second didn't know he was supposed to arrive."

Birch was now speaking slowly with a creaky voice and had somehow managed to ruffle his feathers to give a shaggy appearance.

"We found the shelter he had used that winter in early spring, but it was much too late. He must have been overwhelmed by the cold, or taken by one of the horrors below. Some say he will watch over those flying in the far cold, but that's just Minder tales. You're not the firs or last to lose a loved one to the ground."

Most of you know what happens next, Birch said and took the time to carefully preen until every feather was back in place.

The Mist laid an egg, much to the surprise of everyone who had doubted her story. It didn't look like a mist egg or a shadow egg. It was pale and strange, and some scoffed and whispered it must be empty or dead. The Mist didn't listen, she cared for her egg like any expecting parent, and eventually it did hatch.

They called the hatchling an Aberrant since it didn't look like other Sentinels. Some said the mother's grief had made the fledgling grey, some blamed it on the unfortunate fate of being hatched during a long cold winter, while others claimed it was the mysterious father's fault. They whispered that the chick was half sentinel, half ghost. But eventually more Sentinels like her were born, and they all proved to be strong and successful members of our clan.

Birch fanned his wings in a final grand gesture before finishing his story.

Today we call them Ghosts.

He bowed, and flew to one of the perches on the edge of the stage to make room for the next performance.

The Muse fluffed up his feathers and sat scerenly for a moment. He always loved that tale, no matter how many times he had heard it.

He couldn't dilly dally for too long, though, for his turn was up next.

He took to the air on silent wings and flew to what served as the stage and landed. It was slightly rough and he hopskipped to stick it, but he did not fall over, much to his delight.

Fjord about faced to see his audience, then gave them a sweeping bow, extending his wings to enhance it. He then righted himself and took a breath before he began.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen... The tale I am to tell, perhaps some of you remember it. Perhaps you remember who it happened to, or perhaps you've heard whisps of it. One thing is for sure, I am positive you have all heard Char's tale of the Above. It reminds us of the dangers and the death that awaits all who head up there and it is a place to always be avoided...

Two young sentinels learned this lesson the hard way."

As he finished his introduction, his voice was low and held a matter of fact tone, but it was tinted with fear.

"You see, once there was an aging Fledgling... Her class was due to graduate and there was an air or excitment buzzing around each member. This particular Fledgling was adventureous. She came from a line of hunters and rangers and she felt obliged to uphold that line, even to do better.

She wanted to be an Elite."

His eartufts lifted as he spoke and he took a step forward.

"Oh, she was a promising sentinel, indeed. Her mother and father were proud. Oh so proud..."

His eyes drifted over each and every individual in the audience and he conjured up the words he had been memorizing.

"Now, this young one had a friend from her class. Both of them, they were curious little buggers and they both made a decision...

They had to prove just how brave they were.

After graduation, they were going into the Above."

He spoke the last bit with a frightening, strong voice.

Birch quietly left the theatre to avoid disturbing Fjords storytelling by moving around. He flew in a wide arch around it, stretching his wings for a bit, before approaching it from the other side. He flew with a silly grin on his face, still excited from the performance.

He spotted Char near the rim of the theatre and landed beside him, giving him a quiet nod. Fjord had already started and Birch focused on the new bard and his story.

Tousled, who had just about started to get immersed in the new story, hiccuped with surprise as the large Shadow male landed beside her, and her feathers automatically fluffed up like they always did when she was startled.

Oh no, she thought, blinking rapidly at the unknown sentinel and feeling horribly self-conscious, Why do I always do this!? But before she could bend her head down and start preening, the Shadow spoke to her in such a soft and friendly manner that she hesitated - and when he bowed down to her, she took a tiny step back in confusion, feeling almost embarrassed.

"Um... um..." she stuttered, her little voice even smaller than usual, hardly more than a whisper. "I... Yes - I mean no - I mean... I don't mind."

She inspected him with nervous intensity out of the corner of her eye as she preened. He was rather big, and ever as elegant as only a Shadow could be, with sleek, glossy feathers that any girl would kill to have. His blue eyes seemed honest and kind enough, and weren't straying too obviously to her... unusual plumage... but then again, he had come to her almost as if he had sought her out, and that put her a little on edge. Maybe he was just going to ask - which was embarrassing, but not altogether awful - but she had been the butt of a few too many practical jokes as a fledgling not to feel nervous right now.

Tilting his head, Hazel caught a glimpse of something...strange. He turned around in one swift, fluid motion, eyes searching franticly for whatever could possibly- Oh...oh dear...

For the second time in his life, the Martes was rendered speechless. There, off to the side of the theatre, sat a very strange looking creature. Was it a Sentinel? It certainly was big...and feathery. Nose twitching, Hazel scrutinized the creature with keen eyes. It had a beak...and talons...and feathers...But, oh, what strange-looking feathers they were! All were sticking out and ruffled in disarray...

Hazel blinked, coming to his senses. He gave Roth a quick nod, then gestured with a flick of his tail in the direction of the Sentinel. Springing from tree to tree, Hazel quickly and easily made his way towards the source of his curiosity. In his haste, the eager Martes accidentally collided with the large Shadow Sentinel sitting on the same branch. Hazel bounced off of his shiny ebony chest, before spinning around to face the oddity.

"Oooohh! You Sentinel? I Hazel! Feathers go floof-floof! Why?"

Oh dear. Nobody had ever said Martes held much tact...and this one was quite lacking indeed...