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Operation HALO.”
Soren returned to his own hollow. A milky light, the first streaks of dawn, washed into the cozy space. Pelli and the three B’s were already sound asleep. He gazed down at them. If the Striga and Nyra prevailed… He tried to cut off the thought, the unthinkable image of those two. So much to lose. “Too many,” Digger had replied when Soren had asked rhetorically how many times they had fought the Pure Ones. Most of his life, even his childhood, had been involved with fighting them. Soren’s mind ranged back. The first fight had been the rescue of dear Ezylryb from the Devil’s Triangle. But there had been so many after that.
He looked over at the newest-model battle claws that Quentin the quartermaster had just delivered—double-hinged retractables, or DHRs. Absolutely lethal. Would these improve his chances in battle? He tried them on. They were light, he would give them that. Maneuvering would be easy. But were they too light? The younger owls could adapt to these things. He was used to weight. He looked up on the wall of the hollow where the old battle claws hung that Ezylryb had given him. Now those were battle claws with heft! And they’d gotten him through…how many battles? Toomany! But there is another to come, Soren thought, then whispered, “Another to come.” He took off the new battle claws and reached for those of his old mentor. Real antiques, he thought. But they’re battle tested. They worked for Ezylryb and they’ll work for me, Glaux willing.
CHAPTER TEN
A Dreadful Mis-hatch!
D umpy had guided Otulissa and Cleve to the back entrance of the cave in the Ice Narrows. They perched on the ice cliff high above the cave’s entrance, to say good-bye to the puffin.
“You have been more help than you’ll ever know,” Otulissa told him. “You were brave and smart. Now on your way,” she said. “We’ll send one of the Jossian messengers if we need to get in touch with you.”
Otulissa and Cleve found the niche that opened into the cave. She slipped into the crack first and peered around. It appeared to be vacant. She had expected as much. A full moon cycle had passed since Dumpy had seen the Striga and Nyra there. “Nothing.” She swiveled her head and whispered over her shoulder to Cleve, “But we should still look around. We might find clues of some sort.” So they squeezed through the crack into the larger space of the cave. It hadn’t been half a minutebefore Cleve exclaimed, “Yes, clues like this!” He held up a sapphire-blue feather. “The Striga’s?”
Otulissa flew closer and squinted with her only eye. “Oh, dear!” she said softly. Cleve was confused. Otulissa sounded disappointed. “It’s blue, but unfortunately it’s not turquoise enough; it’s not the Striga’s, but that of another blue owl!”
“You’re saying that there might be more blue owls involved?” Cleve asked hesitantly.
Otulissa nodded. “On my visit to the Middle Kingdom I noticed that the owls were not all the same shade of blue. Their plumage varied from turquoise to sapphire to emerald. The Striga’s feathers are definitely in the turquoise range. You might have noticed that Tengshu’s tend more toward cobalt.”
“You think another owl from the Middle Kingdom has come here?”
“I fear so.” Then the Spotted Owl’s single eye seemed to focus on something. “What’s that?” she exclaimed. She rushed to a corner of the ice cave. From behind, Cleve saw her wilf.
“Otulissa, dear, what is it?” He rushed to her side and looked down. “Oh, no!” They were both transfixed by the fragments of the shell of a dark and peculiaregg. There was a smear on the ice of some viscous fluid—now frozen—and close by lay a pulpy mass. Otulissa bent closer.
“Something nearly came to life here—then failed.” Otulissa’s voice trembled. Although the remnants were frozen, a rank odor hung in the air above the mess. “A mis-hatch.”
“But not just any mis-hatch,”
Soren returned to his own hollow. A milky light, the first streaks of dawn, washed into the cozy space. Pelli and the three B’s were already sound asleep. He gazed down at them. If the Striga and Nyra prevailed… He tried to cut off the thought, the unthinkable image of those two. So much to lose. “Too many,” Digger had replied when Soren had asked rhetorically how many times they had fought the Pure Ones. Most of his life, even his childhood, had been involved with fighting them. Soren’s mind ranged back. The first fight had been the rescue of dear Ezylryb from the Devil’s Triangle. But there had been so many after that.
He looked over at the newest-model battle claws that Quentin the quartermaster had just delivered—double-hinged retractables, or DHRs. Absolutely lethal. Would these improve his chances in battle? He tried them on. They were light, he would give them that. Maneuvering would be easy. But were they too light? The younger owls could adapt to these things. He was used to weight. He looked up on the wall of the hollow where the old battle claws hung that Ezylryb had given him. Now those were battle claws with heft! And they’d gotten him through…how many battles? Toomany! But there is another to come, Soren thought, then whispered, “Another to come.” He took off the new battle claws and reached for those of his old mentor. Real antiques, he thought. But they’re battle tested. They worked for Ezylryb and they’ll work for me, Glaux willing.
CHAPTER TEN
A Dreadful Mis-hatch!
D umpy had guided Otulissa and Cleve to the back entrance of the cave in the Ice Narrows. They perched on the ice cliff high above the cave’s entrance, to say good-bye to the puffin.
“You have been more help than you’ll ever know,” Otulissa told him. “You were brave and smart. Now on your way,” she said. “We’ll send one of the Jossian messengers if we need to get in touch with you.”
Otulissa and Cleve found the niche that opened into the cave. She slipped into the crack first and peered around. It appeared to be vacant. She had expected as much. A full moon cycle had passed since Dumpy had seen the Striga and Nyra there. “Nothing.” She swiveled her head and whispered over her shoulder to Cleve, “But we should still look around. We might find clues of some sort.” So they squeezed through the crack into the larger space of the cave. It hadn’t been half a minutebefore Cleve exclaimed, “Yes, clues like this!” He held up a sapphire-blue feather. “The Striga’s?”
Otulissa flew closer and squinted with her only eye. “Oh, dear!” she said softly. Cleve was confused. Otulissa sounded disappointed. “It’s blue, but unfortunately it’s not turquoise enough; it’s not the Striga’s, but that of another blue owl!”
“You’re saying that there might be more blue owls involved?” Cleve asked hesitantly.
Otulissa nodded. “On my visit to the Middle Kingdom I noticed that the owls were not all the same shade of blue. Their plumage varied from turquoise to sapphire to emerald. The Striga’s feathers are definitely in the turquoise range. You might have noticed that Tengshu’s tend more toward cobalt.”
“You think another owl from the Middle Kingdom has come here?”
“I fear so.” Then the Spotted Owl’s single eye seemed to focus on something. “What’s that?” she exclaimed. She rushed to a corner of the ice cave. From behind, Cleve saw her wilf.
“Otulissa, dear, what is it?” He rushed to her side and looked down. “Oh, no!” They were both transfixed by the fragments of the shell of a dark and peculiaregg. There was a smear on the ice of some viscous fluid—now frozen—and close by lay a pulpy mass. Otulissa bent closer.
“Something nearly came to life here—then failed.” Otulissa’s voice trembled. Although the remnants were frozen, a rank odor hung in the air above the mess. “A mis-hatch.”
“But not just any mis-hatch,”
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