Guardians of Ga'Hoole 02 - The Journey

can make it,” Digger gasped.
    “You can, boy! You can!” said Mrs. P. Her voice grew amazingly strong. “You shall go on to the finish. You shall fly to the forests, to the trees, to Hoolemere. You have defended yourself against these crows. You have strode across deserts. You shall defend yourself now by flying. You shall fly into the wind, into the light, into this new day. Whatever the cost, you shall fly on. You shall not fail or falter. You shall not weaken. You shall finish the flight.” Mrs. P.’s voice swelled in the growing light of the morning and somehow it filled them all with new courage.
    Now Soren flew in so close to Digger that his wing was touching the tip of Digger’s good wing. They were ready for the transfer. “Now, Mrs. P.! Go!”
    The old nest snake began to slither out onto Soren’s wing. Soren felt the pressure of air around his body and the cushions of wind under his wings shift. The air surrounding him seemed to fray. He had to concentrate hard not to go into a roll. But if he was frightened, he could not imagine what Mrs. P. was feeling as she blindly slithered out to the tip of his wing and began the precarious transfer to Digger.
    “Almost there, dear, almost there. Steady now. Steady.”
    Suddenly, she was gone. His wing felt light. Soren turned his head. She had made it. She was now crawling up toward the base of Digger’s wing. It was working. Digger’s flight grew even.
    “We’re bringin’ him in! We’re bringing him in!” Twilight shouted triumphantly. Creating direct updrafts that supported Digger’s flight, Twilight flew below, along with Gylfie who, under the injured wing, was doing the same.
    Finally, they landed in a large spruce tree. There was a perfect hollow for them to spend the day in, and Mrs. Plithiver immediately launched into a frenzy of action. “I need worms! Big fat ones, and leeches. Quick—all of you! Go out and get me what I need. I’ll stay here with Digger.”
    Mrs. Plithiver crawled onto Digger’s back. “Now, this won’t hurt, dear, but I just want to feel what those awful crows did to you.” Gently, she began flicking her forked tongue over his wound. “It’s not deep. The best thing I can do is to curl up right on the wound until they come back. A snake’s skin can be very healing in many cases. We’re a little too dry for the long run, however. That’s why I want the worms.”
    Soon the owls were back with the worms and leeches that Mrs. P. had ordered. She directed Soren to place twoleeches on the wound. “That will cleanse it. I can’t tell you how filthy crows are!”
    After the leeches had done their work, Mrs. Plithiver pulled them off and gently replaced them with two fat worms.
    Digger sighed. “That feels so good.”
    “Yes, there’s nothing like a fat slimy worm for relief of a wound. You’ll be fit to fly by tomorrow night.”
    “Thank you, Mrs. P. Thank you so much.” Digger blinked at Mrs. P., and there was a look in his large yellow eyes of seeming disbelief that he could have ever considered such a snake a meal, which, as a desert owl, Digger often did.
    Within the spruce tree where they perched, there was another hollow that housed a family of Masked Owls.
    “They look almost exactly like you, Soren,” Gylfie said. “And they’re coming to visit.”
    “Masked Owls look nothing like me,” Soren replied. Everyone was always saying this. He had heard his parents complain about it. Yes, they had white faces and buff-colored wings, but they had many more spots on their breasts and head.
    “They’re coming here to visit?” Mrs. P. said. “Oh, dear,the place is a mess. We can’t receive company now. I’m nursing this poor owl.”
    “They heard about the mobbing,” Gylfie said. “We’re even a little bit famous.”
    “Why’s that?” asked Soren.
    “I guess that gang of crows is really bad. They couldn’t believe we battled back and survived,” Gylfie replied.
    Soon, they heard the Masked Owls arriving. One poked her head in. “Mind if we visit?” It was the female owl. And although Masked Owls belonged to the same species of owls as Soren’s family, which were Barn Owls, and they were all known as Tytos, they were hardly identical.
    “See what I mean?” Soren whispered to Gylfie. “They are completely different. Look at how much bigger and darker they are.” The point was lost on Gylfie.
    “We wanted to meet the brave owls who battled the crows,” said the owl’s mate.
    “Yeah,