Skaia was in big trouble.
Their adoptive mother, Mynial, glared at them down her hawkish nose, a disapproving frown on her face.
"Skaia. You knew this latest stunt would get you exiled." Her voice was chalky with age and grief.
Skaia shrugged and grimaced, distorting a small, barely-noticeable tear in their left ear. "So what? Just kick me out Mynial. Stop procrastinating. That's my gig." Their thick curls bounced with every little movement.
Mynial rose to her full height, her tattered grey wings dragging slightly on the floor.
"Skaia.. child of Mynial, I exile you from the flock for assorted crimes, chief among them being the suspected murder of Mirelle, daughter of Ialo."
Skaia scoffed. "I wish you'd believe me when I say I didn't kill her."
"Then where is she?" Mynial asked.
"Hell if I know." Skaia stood up, their legs wobbly from sitting down for too long.
Taking a deep breath, they walked to the open door, wincing against the cold gusts of wind. Below them was a river made threadish by distance, and all around them were little huts glued to the canyon walls by a flimsy mud plaster. Skaia glanced back, the eerie summer sun casting radiance to their eyes.
"Goodbye Mynial." They said.
With unusual poise, they jumped.
Mynial stood in the doorway, her brow furrowed as she watched her fledgling fall, her wings poised, ready to dive at a moment's notice. For a moment, she thought that they would splatter against the rocks, but at the last second, Skaia's wings unfurled, and they coasted away, safe in the embrace of the thermals that rose over the Grey river.