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In The Deep Woods there is a place where several territories meet, suitable for Sentinels to gather and socialise. The trees are growing close enough together and with suitable branches for sitting and talking, but the area is still open enough for Sentinels to be able to see and hear each other even if the speaker happens to sit in another tree. No one has claimed this small area as their own and most Sentinels just treat it as everyone's place.

Bards like to gather here to see if they can find an audience or just learn new tricks.

Birch swooped down on his favourite branch and waited patiently for Echo to plop down beside him. The Parus fluffed up his feathers and chirped happily.

"Let's make some music, shall we?" he said to his companion.
"Huu-sic!" Echo chirped.

Birch removed a length of hollowed out wood from his bag. The surface had been carefully carved. The pattern was designed to make a really nice sound as Birch dragged his beak across it. He played around, going fast and slow, and alternating between using the entire length of the noise maker and using only a short stretch of it.

Echo had heard it before but didn't know exactly what to think. After a while he started to try to imitate the sounds.

"Drrrritt! Ock-ock-ock"

"You know, I should teach you to sound like all my noise makers," Birch mused. "You would be an orchestra of one."

Too far away to hear clearly, even with the amazing hearing of a Sentinel, the russet Watcher is perched on a nearby branch, muttering to herself. "...n't be laughin... ... ..if it's wh.. ...no no no, no it coul... hush!" Her eartufts flatten to her head as she hisses the last word, that much clearly audible over the silence that falls in the Meeting Place after Birch's song has ended. Pale greengold eyes blink slowly when she realizes that the silence isn't entirely due to awe over Birch's performance, and she hisses again.

"See what you've done, silly Mus? I don't know why I take you anywhere, Ricket," scolds the eccentric Sentinel, as she appears to be talking.. to her back? But no, suddenly a little Mus pops his head above her feathers - he's coloured so similarly to her that he was nearly invisible until he'd revealed himself.

"It's Cracker, miss. Ricket was eaten last week, remember?"

Again the fussy Sentinel hisses, her eartufts flicking rapidly as she tracks the birds progress across the sky. Sharp talons flex against the bark, as if she's readying herself to leap into flight towards the smaller avian.. but then she suddenly calms, turning her head back to preen both herself and the Mus, muttering all the while.

"..nk it's funny now.. when it ha.. mind your tail, Ricket," she mumbles around a beakful of feathers. The Mus sighs and shakes his little head, then nods at a signal from another Mus on a nearby branch. "Hm?" queries Fletcher, as Cracker tugs on a feather to get her attention. He leans up to whisper near her ear, and then she turns her head to gaze fully at Birch.

"Oh. I see. Hush, yes. Yes. No, no. Don't worry about it," she bobs her head and re-arranges her wings at her side, as the other Mus scurries off on some nameless mission.

Echo had found a new delightful noise to imitate. He perched on Birch's head chattering happily.

"Rrrrrrrrrrrrong! Drrrritt! Drrrrrrrritt! Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrong!"

Birch let him have his fun for now. The best way to silence Echo was to feed him and he had a feeling he would end up with a fat and spoiled companion if he abused that trick.

"I guess," Birch said, "My mother always said that my tongue would get me in trouble sooner or later. Can't help it, it seems."

He sat in silence for a while, pondering the times he had already managed to get himself into trouble thanks to his jokes and tricks. Even if he didn't count the near misses he had already gotten his fair share of scoldings or worse.

"The artisan finished the last of the painting last night," he said, eager to change the subject but also excited about his newly dyed feathers, "do you like it?"

The young bird truly valued Char's opinion, and he was excited to finally be able to... well... look amusing too. He hadn't talked to his mother recently and he was not sure how she would feel about the chest spots, but that would be a problem for another day.

Echo left his perch on the sentinels head to examine the chirop.

"Yes-yes." he chirped as he flew closer, "Girl! Girl! Girl!"

"A girl?" Birch hooted pretending to be offended. But he couldn't keep the act up for long before starting to laugh.

"A girl," he chortled, "Then I know you like it, old bird."

"I still think you must get some kind of satisfaction from disliking everything," Birch said, and smiled as he watched Echo's wain attempt to catch Dun's attention. The parus was sitting next to the chirop, singing and showing off his red chest.

"What did you want to talk about then?" he asked before turning back to his companion. "Echo, that's a chirop, not a female, get back here!"

Echo ignored him completely. Birch sighed and turned to look at Char again.

A bright speck of color flitted swiftly between the trunks of the old trees, coming to an abrupt halt right next to a big, fluffy pile of brown feathers. The speck of colour let out a short, musical trill, and the fluffy pile of feathers suddenly seemed to come alive. Its top part turned around to face what was apparently a brightly-colored parus, and revealed two big, blinking, golden-yellow eyes.

"What is it, Tuft?" The disarranged sentinel asked with a surprisingly soft and delicate little voice. "You broke my concentration."

"Tellme! I have tellme!" Tuft the parus happily announced. The Sentinel, aptly named 'Tousled', turned fully towards him.

"You have something to tell me?"

"Ya-ya," the parus replied, jumping about impatiently on the branch. "Newsong! I lissen newsong!"

Tousled's yellow eyes lit up with interest, and the many-coloured thing she was working on almost absent-mindedly tied itself around her foot. "You heard a new song? There's a bard performing? Where? Show me!"

Tuft made a sound like claws quickly tapping against hollow wood and tilted his little head to one side. "Not-so shinee. More like will-do, will-do."

"I'll be the judge of that myself, thank you," Tousled replied. "Just show me to the bard."

"Ya-ya!"

The colorful little parus swung himself up into the air, and Tousled followed him on silent wings until she spotted the brightly colored bard further up. Flying in just close enough to hear whatever might be going on, she landed quietly close to a trunk, where a crooked branch came between her and the bards, covering the lower half of her from their view. Long practice had taught her that the best way to remain invisible is to not take too many pains in hiding yourself. A camouflaging background (treetrunk - check) and a slightly deeper shade was often quite enough.

Despite having hid herself to the best of her ability, Tousled still couldn't help but fuss a little with her unruly feathers In case one of those beautiful bards would happen to look her way. Not very likely. But still.

She was slightly disappointed to hear that the two bards were discussing something, and not performing, but decided to stick around for a little while in case they would change their mind. She untied the thin, colored fresh roots from around her foot and turned her eyes and Will to the intricate braiding pattern she was trying to form them into.

"Feh!" Char spat, smiling and fuffling his face feathers, obviously pleased despite his poisonous tone. "You can hardly call anyone else a young punk, you featherbrain!"

He lifted his wings as if to leave Birch behind, but settled back again, dropping the ill-mannered joke. "But, you know you've wondered what some of those smart-aleck tunes you come up with might sound like with more than a two-part harmony."

He was silent for a long moment, considering.

"I've watched you since you were an egg." Char told Birch solomnly, "You're a fine bard."