The trees now bare orange fruit and birds. Most of them fly off before you can get a good look at them, but one tree hosts three birds, who all sit together talking. You approach and wait a few minutes for them to turn their attention to you.
A large, purple and blue bird turns her attention toward you first. She doesn't seem happy to see anyone. "What's this? Listening into us?" she asks.
You introduce yourself, and you make sure you explain fully why you didn't interupt them. She seems satisfied with you answers, and she lifts her head and nods.
"Sarin is what most folks call me around here," she says. "Some call me Blue Feather as well, although that is just a nickname, given to me by my colorful..."
She is interupted by laughing. The other two birds, both of which are red, seem to think that something she said is funny.
"Come on, Sarin, who here calls you Blue Feather?" says the first.
The second says, "Yeah, the only nickname I've heard for you is Feather Face!"
Sarin, obviously offended, expands her wings and flies away. The other two birds look at you, still laughing a bit.
"Don't worry about her," says the first, his voice still strained. "You're lucky we cut her off in the begining. She'll go on for a good fifteen minutes about her nickname and her plumage if you don't cut her off. Call me Epimeusyne."
The second chirps, "And I am Chareshorsha." They both bow. "But really, you should be going, wanderor. We have other places we must be in just a few moments ourselves."
They both puff out their chests importantly. "Well, that and we should go talk to Sarin, too," Epimeusyne says. "But in any case, good look on your wanderor, and be sure to inspect everything you can, for it might be your only chance to look at it!"
