They were accustomed to death, and this was a minor one. There was nobody stalking the halls armed with automatic weapons, no swords or light sabers, no bloody carnage, nothing left at the window except for a brown smudge of downy feathers, stuck to the glass and too small for them to notice, and so they turned away. The window noticed, though, and started to whimper. The teacher continued with the lesson. The pane of glass started to vibrate as its cries grew shrill.
