Prelude to the storytelling
“They’re going to do it!” he squawked in glee. He hadn’t even lighted on his designated perch yet, hadn’t listened to see if The Parliament was ready for a report. He had barely even finished flying through The Veil before cawing out his report. How had he let his excitement get ahold of him like this? He was a consummate professional, and this was most certainly not how an Investigator was to act. He settled his ruffled feathers and glided down to his perch with all of the dignity he could muster.
He knew that his imprudence would warrant censure, especially from the elders. Still, the ripples of excitement ran under the base of his feathers, ruffling them up again. There was something special about these two, something he hadn’t come across yet in his years as an Investigator. He was invested in their fate, and in making sure that they made it through this crossroad. As the last several years raced back through his mind, he could feel waves of energy wash over him. But the energy wasn’t just his. As he became aware of his surroundings again, he could feel and hear the whole of The Parliament fidgeting around him. There was a cacophony of chatter from every corner of the grove, from every rook of every rank.
Crack, crack, crack. Underneath all of the energy and cawing pulsing through the grove, there came a rhythm of taps. Quiet at first. Crack, crack, crack. Louder this time, followed by a longer pause. Crack, crack, crack. It’s not the sound that was getting louder, but it was the birds slowly falling silent. Crack, crack, crack, it rang out through the whole grove. The Elder was striking her stone against the weathered old tree, calling The Parliament to Order. When the grove finally fell silent again, she struck the hollow tree thrice more, the hollow branch amplifying the sound with supernatural power.
Crack, Crack, Crack.
Utter silence fell, all eyes on the Elder at the center of the grove. “Corvinius,” she cawed slowly, her voice powerful with ancient wisdom. All eyes slowly turned towards him, and he visibly gulped. Even though he expected this censure, he still felt a quiver of fear run through him. He straightened himself up as best he could and hopped tentatively towards the Orator Perch. It was a conspicuous perch, a place to be seen and heard by every rook in The Parliament, but right now it felt like a courtroom dock.
“Elder,” Corvinius dipped his head in respect as soon as he took the perch.
“You are aware of our rules, Corvinius.” He dipped his head again in acknowledgement. “But this is a momentous occasion. We have all felt the Fates weaving in their tapestries. Please, tell us what it is they have chosen to do.”
Corvinius was taken aback. Where was the punishment for his imprudence? This was not how Reports were to be given. The rules they operated under for centuries were all very clear, and all rooks, past and present, held to them without fail. He was taken aback, and opened his beak a few times before he could speak.
“They are abandoning with tradition, and are answering the Pull of the Fates.” A murmur of approval flowed through the grove. “We have been chipping away at their anchors until finally the last one has broken.” Short-lived cheers were thrown towards the sky. “They will leave their rookery and fly with the winds to their futures unknown.” The birds in the grove pranced on their perches with anticipation.
“May the Fates bless their journey, and look kindly on our efforts,” the Elder called out. The whole Parliament erupted into the air, whirling and cawing in glee. It was a difficult task that the Fates had given them, and it had taken literal years of work, but together, they had finally accomplished their goal. He took to the air with his flock in celebration, following the winds and movements in a dance that set his soul at ease.
“Caw,” the little rooklet called out to him, skittering up the branch towards him. “Uncle Caw! Tell me about your humans, please?” It was late in the night, but soon a few more rooklets skittered up too, eager to hear the story; to continue the celebrations that had lasted all night.
“You should all be in your nests!” Corvinius chided good-naturedly. “But I guess that we can make an exception on a night like tonight.” Several rooklets nestled down in a half circle around him, eyes glinting in the star light. They would soon grow up to be Investigators themselves, and it was through stories like this that he had been taught. This was sacred, and not to be taken lightly, so Caw made himself comfortable and gave his storytelling his undivided attention.
“It all started years ago,” he began.