Read Online The Rescue (Guardians of Ga'hoole) by Kathryn Lasky - Free Book Online Page B

to take over the point position, Twilight spotted a big fir tree below, perfect for fetching up for a day’s sleep.
    “Fir tree below!”
    Soren’s gizzard gave a small twitch. It was a fir tree just like the one in which he and Eglantine had been hatched and had spent a brief childhood with their parents. There were countless little ceremonies, rites of passage, that marked the development of a young owl. And because of his snatching and whatever it was that had happened to Eglantine when she had fallen from the nest or perhaps been pushed by Kludd, the two young owls had missed many of these. Whenever Soren mentioned this in front of the others, they all seemed quite sympathetic, except for Twilight. Twilight had been orphaned at such a young age that he had no nest memories and prided himself on having actually skipped such folderol ceremonies, as he referred to them. Not the most modest of owls, he bragged about having learned it all on his own in what he called the Orphan School of Tough Learning, which, frankly, became quite a bore to the others.
    The fragrance of the fir needles filled Soren with a great sense of longing. He yearned for his parents, not the scrooms, but his real, live parents.
    Soren could not let himself give in to these feelings. “Before we take a snooze, we have to plan.” Action, Soren always felt, was the best remedy for sad feelings. “I’ve been thinking that when we met the Barred Owl, he was not just on a border, he was really on a point where the corners of four borders touched, those of Kuneer, Ambala, The Beaks, and Tyto.”
    “A convergence point,” Gylfie offered.
    “Yes, I think we should look for such a point of convergence. Gylfie, you’re the navigator. You’ve studied the map. Which way should we head?”
    “Well, for a convergence we need to head toward the point where Silverveil, the Shadow Forest, and The Barrens meet,” Gylfie said. “Tonight, when the constellation of the Great Glaux rises, we have to fly two degrees off its westerly wing, just between that and the claw of the Little Raccoon.”
    “All right, everyone get a good rest. We’ll leave at First Black,” Soren said.
    Three hours after First Black they had still seen nothing. They had been in the region of the convergence fortwo hours. Soren told himself he could not get discouraged. He was the leader of this band. If the owls sensed he was discouraged, then their spirits, too, would begin to fall. They could not fail. Too much was at stake.
    Digger flew up to Soren. “Permission for low-level surveillance, Soren.”
    “What for?”
    “Tracking, Soren. I’m used to low-level flight for finding downed owls and anything else on the ground. Look at me. We blend in with everything, desert sand and fallen leaves in autumn. And I can fly slow, really slow, noisy but slow. And,” he paused, “I can walk!”
    “All right, but I expect you back within the quarter hour.”
    “Yes, Captain.”
    Captain! He wanted to cry out, Don’t call me Captain. Only Ezylryb can be called Captain.
    Soren watched as Digger went into a plunging dive.
    As he neared the ground, Digger began a slow survey, first for any sign of caves, or scattered coals that might indicate the presence of a rogue smith. When he found no caves, he wondered if a blacksmith would ever build a fire in a clearing. Possibly. Then, of course, there was the fact that this blacksmith was a Snowy Owl. Pure white. She should certainly show up on a night like this. With themoon far from full and still just newing, the night was very black. Perfect for seeing white.
    The quarter of an hour was running out. Digger became more determined than ever, more intense in his search. Scanning by rotating his head as he had been taught to do in tracking, he dodged bushes, tree trunks, rocks, and other ground obstacles just in the nick of time. He sensed them almost before he got to them. But he hadn’t sensed the large black mound ahead. Neither rock nor shrub