Roberto listened into Jespa's hollow, unease pricking like the thorns in his nest. Jespa was stalking up and down like a pacing margay, muttering inaudible things - occasionally, 'Sophia' was mentioned. The hollow was a mess, as though something had gone rampaging through it - stale moss and dirty feathers littered the floor, the ceiling was studded with gaps and leaking with water, and the unpleasant smell of rotting wood and damp filled his nostrils. A steady supply of thorns was growing in a cluster near the bottom of the tree - some had been picked. Either Jespa was a victim of coincidence - fat chance, Roberto thought - or he had been the culprit. Of course it had to be Jespa who had put the thorns in their nests. There was no one else who despised them more.

But why? screeched the voice in his head. It was a frustrated question he had been thinking over for days. Jespa would likely tell him should he ask, but he was twisted. There was no way Roberto would get the real truth from the hateful sibling. The only answer was Sophia or Zenaida, the latter whom was now alarmingly frail. Was his only option Sophia?

What a cheerful conversation that'll be. Go on Sophia, tell me, what's this big secret and why does Jespa hate you so much? Roberto thought, bitterly. But then he froze. If it had indeed been Jespa in his nest... had he seen Sophia's note? We can't sing tonight. Jespa finding out about Sophia's singing was her worst nightmare. Maybe there was a chance Jespa hadn't seen the note?

Roberto took a step back, but there was a snap as he stepped on a stick. Jespa immediately whirled round. Roberto stiffled a gasp, as he dived behind the ivy that grew around the entrance. He pressed himself against the trunk, half hidden, as Jespa's head shot out from the entrance. Roberto's heart thudded, for he was hidden barely inches from Jespa - he hated to think what would happen if he was found. Jespa's suspicious gaze raked the surroundings; not far away, two chicks were playing in the adjacent tree. His eyes blazed with anger.

"Beat it!" Jespa roared, and the two chicks released frightened squeaks, before rushing away, stumbling and pushing over each other to get away as fast as possible. Roberto held back a sigh of relief as Jespa retreated into the hollow, muttering under his breath. As silent as he possibly could, he flew away, praying that Jespa wouldn't hear his flapping wings. There was no keeping this from Sophia. This was serious, and Roberto had to tell her what Jespa had done. Jespa was beyond mad.

Roberto's initial thought was that she was at Zenaida's; and he was right, for she was standing outside, looking lost in thought. "Soph!" He called, as he got in earshot. She looked up immediately, the glazed expression in her eyes fading somewhat.

"Hi, Robbie." She sighed. Roberto paused, hearing her sombre tone.

"What's the matter?" He asked, landing, all thoughts of Jespa and thorn stings subdued by her mood. Sophia wiped her eyes.

"My mother... she's saying some strange things." She murmured. "She's in a strange state. Confused, feverish. I mentioned the Festival of Stars to her - do you know what she said? 'What a wonderful night to die. A beautiful concluding night to my life.'" Roberto blinked, in surprise at this sentence. Her eyes glistened with the beginnings of tears. "I'm afraid, Roberto. She's had her illness for far too long, and she's only getting worse and... and..." a tear rolled down her cheek, and, embarrassed, she covered her face.

"Hey, hey..." Roberto said, trying his best to sound comforting. "She wouldn't want you to cry."

"I know, but it's just too... too much." Sophia looked like a lost child, eyes watering, her face painfully upset. Roberto opened his wings - for a few moments, she paused, before accepting the offer, throwing herself into his embrace. "What would I do without you?" She murmured under her breath. "The stress of everything is killing me. You know what? Practice your lines - we're going to sing tonight." Roberto blinked, and looked down.

"Really? What about Zenaida?"

"She's got healers looking after her tonight, since they want to keep an eye on her. I just have to get away from the ravine - too much going on. Jespa, Zenaida... I need a break." Sophia indeed sounded trapped, her voice high pitched from stress and slight panic. Roberto was about to tell her about the thorns, but stopped himself. It could wait - he didn't want to make her feel any worse. Tomorrow. I'll tell her tomorrow.

"Anything you want. I'll go read the lines again. Let me know when you're ready." He said, turning to leave. He paused, before turning around, with an assuring smile. "Zenaida will be fine, Soph. Don't worry about her." He looked at her worried, upset face. "Where's a smile?" He asked, gently; then the corners of Sophia's beak curled upwards slightly, although her eyes didn't carry the smile. Roberto smiled a little back, before taking off. His heart ached for her - he knew how she felt, for the memory of his mother's death was still like talons in his heart. He didn't want to imagine Sophia having to go through the same thing he did.

He looked over his shoulder, where Mateo was emerging from Zenaida's nest, an unreadable expression on his face. Not wanting to see what Mateo had to say, Roberto forced himself to look ahead, for his tree. If Sophia wanted him to sing, he'd do his best.

Later

Sophia gazed at her reflection, a lilac flower in her head feathers this time. Zenaida's favourite colour. She didn't want to perform tonight, at least not desperately - but she had to. She had promised Victoria, and there was no way she'd get any sleep with the worry plaguing her mind.

Zenaida was in such a sorry state. Her feathers were dull and messy, and she had weakened so much, so fast. Her breath was laboured, interrupted by coughing, and she was delirious and saying so many odd, frightening things. Not intentionally - she kept saying how she was running out of time, and that scared Sophia. She used to think that she wouldn't cry if Zenaida died, after how coldly she had treated her in the past, but now that Zenaida was treating her so much more lovingly, she was going to be devastated.

What had changed? Had her illness made her realize how badly she had treated Sophia? Zenaida had barely offered her any kindness in the past nineteen years, until now - it was bizarre, but Sophia wasn't complaining. It was wonderful to feel loved by her mother for the first time in so long. Under her strict exterior, Sophia had always hoped that Zenaida did still love her after what happened, and now it appeared to be true.

After what happened. That had haunted her for years. Sophia glanced over her shoulder, where Roberto was still reading the lines. To make things worse, she had a feeling Roberto knew something was up. The way he glanced between Jespa and Zenaida... there was definitely something in his eyes. A speculation, suspicion. He knew she was keeping something from him, but there was no way he was going to find out. Would he look at her in the same way again, if he knew?

Happy with her appearance, Sophia turned to Roberto. "Okay, you can read the lines on the way. Vicky'll be expecting us."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Roberto asked, in a gentle voice.

"Yes. I really do." Sophia replied, sighing at his concern. He was so worried for her, at the same time of his suspicion. "We'd better get going, now." Sophia turned, headed for the entrance, but then there was a sharp prick under her foot. "Ow!" She sprang back, looking down. A thorn lay on the floor, with brutally sharp barbs. Wincing at the immediate stinging sensation, she kicked it to the side, before following Roberto, who hadn't noticed. I wonder how that got there - thorns don't grow in this tree.

As she stepped outside, hiding her slight limp, Sophia paused, glancing around, making sure nobody was watching them leave - before flying after Roberto. Her foot throbbed from the thorn, but that wasn't what was bothering her. Her skin prickled unexpectedly - she couldn't help but glance over her shoulder. A flash of familiar light blue feathers moved slightly behind some leaves. She paused again, but then shook it off. Must be Isabella. She's got that colour plumage.

"Coming, Soph?" Roberto said, glancing back.

"Yeah, sure..." She said, in a distracted voice. She was sure Isabella had a more 'soft' appearance. Feathers on end, she flew after Roberto, much faster this time.