Guardians of Ga'Hoole 02 - The Journey

sixty-six days were, which was the length of time it took a Barn Owl, such as himself, to fledge flight feathers. Numbers had been meaningless and he had promised himself, once he had escaped from the awful St. Aggie’s, that he would learn how to count.
    But there was so much more to learn than simplycounting. For a month now, he had had many lessons—flying lessons, even work with battle claws. They had practiced with almost every chaw except for the navigation chaw and the colliering and weather interpretation chaws. For the last chaw, weather, Soren had felt spared because it was led by the grizzled old Screech, Ezylryb. The members were considered among the fiercest and the bravest of the entire Great Ga’Hoole Tree, for they had to fly through all sorts of storms, blizzards, and even hurricanes to gather important information for troops going into battle or on missions of search-and-rescue. And they brought back coals from burning forest fires, which fed the forge that made so many vital things for the Great Ga’Hoole Tree, from battle claws to pots and pans, and, of course, gave light to the candles.
    And now on this blackest of nights, he was learning to navigate from Strix Struma.
    “We shall begin with a few simple tracing exercises,” Strix Struma had announced when they were poised on the main takeoff branch of the Great Ga’Hoole Tree. “The Great Glaux will soon rise,” she continued. “The time of the Little Raccoon has, of course, passed by this season but a new beauty shall appear for the first time tonight. The Golden Talons. It is an unusual constellation, for in this part of the world it shall be with us through summer.” Sheraised her foot from the branch. “And just like our talons, there are four—long, curved, and sharp ones formed by the stars.”
    “But not gold,” piped up Primrose, the Pygmy Owl that Soren had befriended on the night she had been brought in from the borderlands, singed and orphaned.
    “The gold is an illusion, my dear,” Strix Struma said. “It is caused by atmospheric wobble that you shall learn more about.”
    With a sudden blur and a slicing sound through the air, Strix Struma’s talons shot out and caught a fruit bat on the wing. “A little snack before we fly,” she said and quickly de-winged it, then served up tasty morsels to the class. “We don’t want to overeat before our lesson. That is never good, but a bit of bat gives a boost, I always find. Now, ready!”
    “Yes, Strix Struma,” they all replied.
    Strix Struma preferred to dispense with the title of ryb and instead be called by her family name. She was a Spotted Owl who came from a very ancient ancestry of which she was intensely proud. “Good, then. Primrose, I would like you flying directly behind me. Otulissa, seeing as you have had navigation class before, I think I shall put you on my windward flank. Gylfie, you shall fly in the downwind flanking position. And Soren, you fly tail. Any questions?”
    Soren blinked in amazement. Although he had been at the Tree a month, those two simple words “Any questions” were still like magic to him after St. Aggie’s.
    Strix Struma always used the battle terminology, such as “flanks.” For not only did Strix Struma have a proud and ancient lineage, but she had been trained for combat as a windward flanking sub-commander and had seen action at the Battle of Little Hoole. “Off we go, then!” And the large Spotted Owl rose in flight with the four young owls quickly maneuvering into their positions.
    Soren flew several lengths behind Strix Struma so as not to be affected by the eddies curling off her very broad tail. He wished Twilight and Digger were flying with them but Twilight was in a more advanced navigation class. And Digger was still in power-flight school due to his weak flying skills.
    Twilight’s orphan school of tough learning had apparently taught him a lot because he had been placed in many advanced classes.
    “All right, class.” Strix Struma spoke in the broad hooting tones that were indeed the voice of a mature Spotted Owl. These hoots now rolled back toward Soren. “Two points off to windward. Please note the first star of the Golden Talons rising.”
    “Ooooh, this is sooooo exciting.” It was Otulissa tryingher best to sound exactly like Strix Struma, which she would someday, for she, too, was a Spotted Owl. But right now,she just sounded like what she was—a beak-polishing, feather-fluffing idiotic owl