Sturnus
The trio collapsed into a heap of fur, feathers, and bad feelings shortly after the Gymnastic Endeavor had begun. It went as one would expect: Jessandra's climbing combined with Blake's slight figure and Sturnus's constant fidgeting, a muddy ball of unhappiness was soon formed on the ground below.
"It was your fault, beakbrain, for letting me fall!" She accused, pointing a foreboding claw at the bird.
"Now, Lady Jessandra, let's–" Blake began, but was soon cut off by Sturnus's reply.
"It was your dumb idea to climb in the first place, with a small chain," his pinion fathers mimicked the cat's own gesture.
"Listen here, feathernose!"
"Pipe down, clawbottom!"
"Who're you calling 'clawbottom', talons-for-brains?"
"Hey!" The mouse's small voice suddenly filled the area in much the same way that air doesn't, "Will both of you just can it?" His tiny chest heaved as he gave them both a desperate look, "You're worse than a pair of ratbabes full of candied chestnuts."
After their chastising, the pair turned from one another, both pouting at being told off by a mouse. Sturnus's chest was still rising and falling in an erratic rhythm from the exertion of holding the cat up. 'Stupid cat,' he thought, 'tryin' to eat them. They could be my nephews for all I know.'
The servant huffed again, taking his blue cloak in paw and wringing it, his nose turned up at the offending liquid that leaked out of the textile. He selected a more solid surface to sit down on, then, stretching his legs out as he continued his examination of the article, "Ruined…"
"At least we made it out," the wildcat commented, rearranging herself farther from the group, "better than just about every other beast." The grackle still wasn't sure what to make of her, a mother one minute, a menace the next. "Need somethin', featherbrain?" she asked, noting how he was staring off into space at her.
"Hmm? Err… nothin'," he replied, shaking his great head at her. Then, an iridescent something caught his eye in the mud. Thinking it was a feather, he almost shrugged it off, until it moved. His thoughts then stalled out, dropping the clutch of his mind into a befuddled neutral. It was kickstarted, however, by the recognition of the object as the biggest, juiciest-looking beetle he had ever seen. Almost salivating, he stalked to his feet and made a lunge, diving for the only shimmering in the loamy depths of the ground. Both of his chainmates called out in surprise as he dove, dragging them with him as he neatly speared the insect.
He was practically beaming as he brought the morsel back to the dry spot, preparing to drop the bug down his greedy gullet. Then, a memory frolicked into the forefront of his mind: his mother was standing over him, buffeting him about his beak with a great wing. Her words burned like sulphur into his mind, "Stop hoggin' the chow, beakbrain!"
Snapping back into reality, he replied, "Ow! Mum! That hurt!"
"What did you say, pinionbottom?" asked Jessandra, as she robbed her sore behind, still grumbling about the jarring from earlier.
"Um… Nothin'," Sturnus hadn't realized he had spoken out loud. He took a look at the insect, then, with the words of his mother still fresh in his mind, he reached down with his beak to the junction of the lower shell, and wings, and pried it apart, revealing a gooey substance perched on the lower shell like a tiny serving platter of pâté. He offered it first to Blake.
The mouse shook his head at the offering, "No thank you."
"Tastes just like richbeast food," Sturnus explained, keeping it held out.
Blake pulled a face, commenting, "Looks like it, too."
The three were finally able to shake with laughter at the comparison to their old lives, the reminder a catalyst, allowing them to finally relieve the burden that the adventure had thus far lain on them. Like a fat hedgehog getting out of a hammock, something snapped, but a lot of tension was relieved.
The lizard cocked her head at the strange behavior of the beasts she had been watching. Truly odd. There was nothing funny about insect entrails.