Fledgling perched by himself out of sight of the Den, but not out of earshot. He could hear the comings and goings and the trill of singing and conversation. He was younger than all the others, cared for as every member's responsibility. Sometimes it was satisfying to still be nestling Tenionifi, loved and protected. But when his spirit was restless, their attention seemed cloying and intrusive. Lately he had that feeling more often.

He was singular, although he would not understand the concept of lonely. Third Son, whom he considered to be Father, had flown at first light. Eldest Mother, welcoming as always, was still upset over his earlier referral to Endilinti. It was a concept he did not understand and could not remember how he knew. He did know Eldest was frightened, and that scared him as well.

The air stirred, brisk and cold. He drew in a great breath, smelling impending snow. The aging day and the thickening cloud cover contributed to the waning light.

He shifted his weight a bit, taking pressure off his healing leg. The shorn toe felt odd, but he was adapting. Uncalennie had called him Liddleburdy. He turned the name over in his mind. It would be some time before Naming Day. None in the Tribe had ever taken a Salortog name. He liked the sound, Liddleburdy. Maybe he would be first.

His thoughts grew less focused as his mind slipped into a fluid state, the precursor to Vision. His eyes modulated into a darker red as he concentrated sightlessly on the broad leaves of a succulent swaying in the freshening breeze. In those moving shadows, he saw Uncalennie fall to the ground and enter darkness. Drip. Drip. Hooh. Aah.

Fledgling returned to awareness, the desperate chant ringing in his brain, heart thudding in his chest. His head hurt, and it seemed a long moment before he could breathe or think. When his thoughts cleared, he considered options.

Uncalennie was in trouble. Fledgling had not seen the assailants, but he was certain it was the dark spirited Salortog who skulked in the mountain face with the odd flying machine that was there and not there. Father sternly forbade any contact with them, but he knew where their secret den lay hidden. Father had not returned. Eldest Mother was not able to make the flight into the folded hills. The others would never permit him to go help.

So it was Fledgling set out alone, wings beating against the darkening gloom.