Guardians of Ga'Hoole 02 - The Journey

rainbow.
    “Lovely, isn’t it?” A voice melted like a chime out of the silver rain. It was Madame Plonk, the harp singer, who sang them to sleep each morning. She was a Snowy Owl and, as she sailed through the silver rain, Soren blinked in amazement, for he had never seen such a beautiful sight. She was no longer snowy white but indeed had become a living, flying rainbow. All colors seemed to radiate from her plumage.
    Soren wished that one of the chaws of the Great Ga’Hoole Tree could be learning the harp and singing from Madame Plonk. But the pluckers of the harp were never owls, only blind snakes. And the only ones trained to sing were direct descendants of the Plonk line of Snowy Owls.
    They flew, weaving themselves through the vines and the hues of the rainbow for a few more minutes. Then Madame Plonk said, “Time for me to go, dear. Wake-up time. Evensong must be sung. I see the snakes coming out now, making their way toward the harp. Can’t be late. But I’ve so enjoyed our afternoon flight. We’ll do it again sometime. Or drop by for a cup of milkberry tea.”
    Soren wondered if he would ever have the nerve to just”drop by” Madame Plonk’s for a cup oftea. What would he ever have to say to such a beautiful and elegant owl? Flying was one thing, but sitting and talking was another. Soren saw dozens of rosy-scaled blind snakes crawling up to the hollow where the harp was kept. Soon the Great Ga’Hoole Tree would begin to awake and stir to the lovely harmonies of Evensong. For twilight was upon them.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Books of the Yonder
    N ow, young ones, please follow me as we explore the wondrous root structure of our dear tree. You see where the roots bump up from the ground.” It was the Ga’Hoolology ryb, a boring old Burrowing Owl.
    “Here’s one.”
    “Oh, yes, Otulissa. A perfect example.”
    “Here’s one,” Gylfie mimicked Otulissa. “She has the most annoying voice.”
    “Now if we can find a pellet or if someone would care to yarp one, I shall demonstrate the proper burying technique. Pellets properly buried nourish the tree,” the ryb continued.
    “Oh, I’ll find you one,” Otulissa quickly volunteered and bustled off.
    “This is the most borrring class,” sighed Soren. They had been stomping around the base of the Great Ga’Hoole Tree all during twilight.
    “I don’t think it’s that bad,” said Digger. Digger, of course, being a Burrowing Owl, preferred ground activities.
    “I don’t know what I’ll do if I am tapped for Ga’Hoolol-ogy,” Twilight muttered.
    “You? Never,” Soren said, but he was secretly worried that he might be. He realized that knowing about the tree was important. The Ga’Hoolology ryb constantly drummed this into them just as she was doing now. “The Great Ga’Hoole Tree has thrived and flourished for these thousands of years because the owls have been such excellent stewards of this little piece of earth that the Great Glaux gave them.” Twilight began to mouth the words as she said them.
    “That is so rude,” Otulissa hissed.
    “Oh, go yarp a pellet!” Twilight barked back.
    “What’s that? Someone has a pellet to yarp? Twilight dear, come up here. I believe I heard you say you had a little gift to bestow on our Great Ga’Hoole Tree.”
    Class finally ended an hour before First Black. There was still time to go to the library. This was Soren and Gyl-fie’s favorite place in the old tree. The two young owls had a special fondness for libraries that went beyond the wonderful books that they were now learning how toread. At St. Aegolius Academy, the library had been strictly off-limits to everyone except for Skench and Spoorn, the two brutal owls who ran the orphanage. No one knew how to read at St. Aggie’s except for Skench and Spoorn, but here everyone knew how to read and they read constantly. But the reason why libraries were so special to Gyl-fie and Soren was that it was from the library at St. Aggie’s that they had escaped.
    For the two young owls libraries meant freedom in every way. Sometimes, Soren thought that libraries for him were a kind of Yonder, in the sense that Mrs. Plithiver and other snakes spoke of the sky. The sky so far away for snakes, as far as anything could be, was a world unseen. But as Soren and Gylfie learned to read they began to get glimmerings of worlds unseen.
    The only problem with the library was the old Whiskered Screech, Ezylryb. He was always there, and he was still as