Guardians of Ga'Hoole 02 - The Journey

together, fought together, and escaped many dangers—as a band. We know from our experience that there is great evil that threatens every owl in every owl kingdom on earth. We want only to fight this evil, to become guardian knights of this order.” He saw Ezylryb stifle a yawn and pick up what appeared to be a dried caterpillar to munch. “We feel that we have special knowledge. We have much to offer,” Soren concluded.
    “I am sure you do,” said Boron. “Every owl here has special knowledge and, during your training, you will find out what your talents are. You will, after proper instruction, be chosen for a chaw and then your learning will, indeed, advance to a higher level, become more specialized.” He explained why they probably would not be put into the same chaws, even though they were a band. “We donot all need to learn the same things. Each of you will make your band better in the end if you learn different skills. And this all takes time.”
    Soren felt Twilight rustle behind him. He knew it was Twilight without even flipping his head for a look. He also felt that the old owl, Ezylryb, despite his yawning and munching, was looking at him sharply. Indeed, he felt locked in that old owl’s sights. He might as well be a mouse scuttling across a forest floor about to be pounced on by a bird of prey. It was as if that little scrap of amber that glimmered through the squinty eye had trapped him. He had never felt such a penetrating, piercing look and yet to the other owls of the parliament it did not appear as if Ezylryb was regarding him at all. Rather, it seemed as if he was bored silly with the young Barn Owl.
    Boron continued to speak, “It takes time, of which I think you have an abundance. It takes patience—and that, I am not sure how much you have and, most important, it takes dedication and that, young’un, is found both in the heart and the gizzard. The nobility of the owls you see here in the parliament has not simply been given, nor has it been earned through courageous acts. Indeed, nobility is not always found in the flash of battle claws or flying through the embered wakes of firestorms, or even in making strong the weak, mending the broken, vanquishingthe proud, or making powerless those who abuse the frail.”
    Soren’s gizzard grew quiet as Boron spoke. “It is also found in the resolute heart, the gizzard that can withstand the temptations of false dreams, the mind that has the imagination to comprehend another’s pain, as I think one young owl did tonight when he sat by the little Pygmy Owl with quiet understanding of her loss of tree, nest, family, and egg. It is all of this that ultimately confers nobility and makes the Guardians of Ga’Hoole rise in the night with hearts sublime.” Boron paused and looked at the other three owls. “And so as I said when you arrived, one journey has ended and now another starts. On the night of the morrow your training shall begin.”

CHAPTER TEN
Twilight on the Brink
    D awn is the thief of night, and the night is when owls stir and become alive, when they fly. So the day that follows that dawn is only for sleeping, to prepare for the night. For some, however, the day feels like an eternity. And for the four young owls the night to come, the morrow night of their training, was still hours away.
    Perhaps it had been a mild twinge in Soren’s gizzard or a faint stirring in his heart, but sometime near midday, while the hollow was thick with sleep, the young Barn Owl sensed that something was slightly amiss, perhaps incomplete. It was not the feeling of dreadful cold fear that could steal into one’s gizzard and make one’s wings go yeep. No, not that at all, but something was not right. Soren’s eyes blinked open, and in the dim milky light of the day that filtered into the hollow he saw only two other owls. Twilight was gone!
    Soren blinked again. Was he really gone? In the flick of a wing, Soren had lofted onto the rim of the hollow. Everylimb of the Great Ga’Hoole Tree stood out keen and black against the dull winter sky. Shadows were cast with sharp edges. There was, however, one long shadow stretched between the thick, gnarled branches of the tree, swelling like a dark cloud dropped down from above. That shadow was Twilight’s. The Great Gray was perched on one of the less public takeoff branches. Soren flew up.
    “What are you doing, Twilight?” Soren spoke softly.
    “Thinking.”
    That was a good sign. Twilight was a