#poor deneb

this brat

There were choices to be made every day, some more difficult that others. Follow the herd or stay nearby and fish. Sow seed or wait for the plentiful rains to come. But there was never a choice when it came to elders: you do not speak ill of them, unless a serious crime has been committed. And even then, it is better to be hush about it. For a seven-year old Deneb, she was facing the consequences of those actions. “Please repeat to us what you’ve told the other children.” The eldest presiding over this meeting pressed paws to his knees, the peeking scales along his neck twitching and glittering in the sunlight in quiet anger. His own grandniece, no less. He expected better of her. “I said... I said that...” the cub began between the sniffles. Nothing was more terrifying for the young ones than being taken before their ambush and being questioned on their misdeeds in front of everyone. To have to repeat the words verbatim and decipher the seriousness of their words, to remove the joke and jest from them entirely... it was a living nightmare. A loud thump from the elder’s staff redirected her straying thoughts. They weren’t going to wait around all day for her to gather her courage. “... I said that Albiero was a mongrel who deserves to be drowned in a lake...” she squeaked, and winced at the reaction of those around her. Hushed gasps of astonishment and paws pressed to mouths told her just how horrible they found her words to be. She could already feel the tears welling up again. To let them fall would garner her no sympathy, however. “And is it true?” “What...?” The question was unexpected. “Do you really think he should be drowned in a lake?” “I...” “It’s a yes or no question.” The elder’s voice became more and more quiet, but the gravity of his tone remained. “No...?” “And why would you call him a mongrel? Is his fur so impure and filthy to make him less than one of our own?” “I don’t... it’s...” Her eyes found those of Albiero, the subject of her lies and insults, and they were filled with nothing but hurt. He knew why she thought those things. “He has no scales, and-” “Enough.” A raised paw silenced her, the elder’s eyes closing in disgust. “You have two choices. You can follow through with your words. Take Albiero out with you and drown him with your own hands. Or you can renounce your lies, apologize, and sit for the rest of the day before the Aztanti with a frog on your tongue.” “… I’d rather have the frog. Please.”