Guardians of Ga'Hoole 02 - The Journey

Twilight, Digger, and Gylfie at the edge of the nest. They waited and waited, then looked at one another.
    “Sir,” Gylfie began, “I think something might have happened to your mate…uh…er…She dove into the sea and no sign of her yet.”
    “Oh, she’ll be a while. Lot of mouths to feed.”
    It seemed like forever, but then they saw her break through the surface. Several small fish hung neatly from her beak. “There she is! There she is!” Gylfie said.
    “Good old Ma,” Dumpy sighed. “Hope she brought some capelin. I just love capelin. If you don’t like it, will you give me yours? Please, please, please?”
    “Sure,” Soren said. Every minute that he stayed in this smelly hollow he was getting less hungry.
    “Look at that,” Twilight said. “How’s she going to get off?” The others now crowded to the edge of the ice hollow. Down below, it appeared that the female was trying to run across the surface of the water while madly flapping her wings.
    “Water takeoff—not easy for any of us. We’re not the best fliers, but, as you can see, we can dive. Got these little air pockets so we can go really deep for a long, long time. Getting back to the nest is the hardest part for us.”
    The male stepped out of the ice hollow and called down. “Dearest, try that patch over there under the lee, the water is smoother.”
    She gave her mate a withering glance, and somehow through the mouthful of fish yelled back, “You want me to fly directly into the wall, Puff Head! There’s a tailwind. I’ll slam beak-first into it. Then where will your dinner be? If you’re so smart you come down and go fishing yourself.”
    “Oh, sorry, dear, silly me.” Then he turned to the owls. “We’re really not that bright. I mean we dive well, know how to fish, and deal with ice, but that’s about it.”
    But, in fact, the puffins knew more and were not that dumb at all. “Just low self-esteem,” Gylfie said. The puffins, in addition to knowing how to dive and fish, knew weather. And just now they were telling them that there would bea small pocket of time when the wind would turn, and they could leave before the next storm came in.
    “You see, young’uns,” said the male puffin, “nine days out often, the wind slams full force up these Ice Narrows. That’s how you got sucked into here in the first place. But on the tenth day, it can turn around and suck you right back out. Nice high stream coming through that could pull you right back to The Beaks, if you want to go that far.” He paused and each of the owls stole a glance at one another. The Beaks sounded lovely. This place was so harsh and cold and there was the terrible stench of the fish and the awful oiliness that seemed to make their gizzards greasy. How could they help but think of the Mirror Lakes, where it was always summer and the voles were fat and the flying spectacular? They would be liars if they said they weren’t tempted.
    “So when should we leave?” Soren asked.
    “I think since you owls like night flying you should go tonight. Just when it’s getting dark is when the wind will begin to turn. It’ll be easy flying out of here, and then when the wind finally gets behind your tail feathers, you’ll really go, straight out to Hoolemere.”
    “But the blizzard?” Gylfie said. “When will that start up again?”
    “Not before tomorrow, I think, at the earliest.”
    “We should all get some rest now,” Soren said. “If we’re going to fly tonight.”
    “Good idea,” Mrs. Plithiver nodded.
    “Better go to the back of the hollow,” the female puffin called. “Sun’s coming out and it reflects so brightly off the ice you won’t be able to shut your eyes against it.” It was dimmer in the back, but still rather bright as streams of sunlight bouncing off the ice-sheathed rocks pried into the shadows of the hollow.
    Soren could hear the steady drip as some of the ice began to melt. But finally he fell asleep. Perhaps it was the melting ice that made him think of that warmer place with the pools of crystal-clear water, his lovely white face shimmering on the surface. Why couldn’t they go back there? Where were they supposed to be going instead? Soren kept forgetting. All he could remember were the rolls of warm wind to play on, the still, glasslike lake, the everlasting summer. No ice, no blizzard. Why not live there happily ever after? The dream tugged on him. In his sleep, he felt his gizzard turn and something begin to