Guardians of Ga'Hoole 02 - The Journey

feathers and blood and bone. Sky becomes the Yonder for all creatures if, indeed, they free their hearts and their brains to feel, to know in the deepest ways. And when the Yonder calls, it speaks to all of us, be it sky, be it Hoolemere, be it heaven or glaumora.” Glaumora was the special heaven where the souls of owls went. “So perhaps,” Mrs. Plithiver continued, “there are some who need to lose their eyes to discover their sight.” Mrs. P. nodded her head gracefully and slithered back into the corner. A stunned silence fell upon the hollow.
    The four young owls waited until First Black to leave. “No more flying during light,” Mrs. Plithiver said as she coiled into Soren’s neck feathers. “Agreed?”
    “Agreed,” the owls replied at once.
    They were now skirting the edges of the Kingdom of Tyto, the kingdom from which Soren’s family came. Although he was as alert as ever and flying most skillfully, Mrs. Plithiver could sense a quietness in him. He did notjoin in the others’ flight chatter. She knew he must have been thinking of his parents, his lost family, and, in particular, his sister, Eglantine, whom he loved most dearly. The chances of finding any of them were almost zero, and she knew that Soren knew this, but still she could feel his pain. Yet he had not exactly described it as pain. He had once said to Mrs. P. shortly after they had been reunited that he had felt as if there were a hole in his gizzard, and that when he and Mrs. P. had found each other again, it was as if a little bit of the hole had been mended. But Mrs. P. knew that despite the patch she had provided there was still a hole.
    When the first stars began to fade, they looked for a place to land and settle in before morning. It was Gylfie who spotted an old sycamore, silvery in this moonless night. The full moon had begun its dwenking many nights before, growing slimmer and slimmer until it dwenked and disappeared entirely, and there would not be a trace of it for another night or so until the newing began.

CHAPTER TWO
In the Company of Sooty Owls
    O h, yes, dear. I’ve heard of it, but you know they say it’s just a story, a legend.”
    “Well, it’s not exactly that, Sweetums,” said the Sooty Owl’s mate.
    The four owls had been warmly welcomed into the large and spacious hollow in the sycamore by a family of Sooty Owls. These two owls were much nicer than the Masked Owls. Indeed very, very nice and, Soren thought, very, very boring. They called each other by nicknames—Sweetums and Swatums. They never said a cross word. Everything was just perfect. The children had all grown up.
    “Left the nest a year ago. Still nearby,” said Swatums, the male. “But who knows, Sweetums might come up with another clutch of eggs in the new breeding season. And if she doesn’t, well, we two are enough company for each other.” Then they began preening each other.
    It seemed to Soren and Gylfie that they preened incessantly. They always had their beaks in each other’s feathers,except, of course, when they were hunting. And when they were hunting they were exceptional killers. It was as predators that these Sooty Owls became the most interesting. Sweetums and Swatums were simply deadly, and Soren had to admit he had never eaten so well. Twilight had told them to watch carefully, for Sooty Owls were among the rare owls that went after tree prey and not just ground prey.
    So tonight they were all feasting on three of a type of opossum that they called sugar gliders. They were the sweetest things that any of the young band of owls had ever tasted. Maybe that was why the two Sooties called each other Sweetums and Swatums. They had simply eaten too many sweet things. Perhaps eating a steady diet of sugar gliders made an owl ooze with gooiness. Soren thought he was going to go stark raving yoicks if he had to listen to their gooey talk a moment longer, but luckily they were now, in their own boring way, discussing the Great Ga’Hoole Tree.
    Sweetums was questioning her mate. “Well, what do you mean, Swatums, by ‘not exactly.’ Isn’t it either a legend or not? I mean, it’s not really real.”
    “Well, Sweetums, some say it’s simply invisible.”
    “What’s simple about being invisible?” Gylfie asked.
    “Ohh, hooo-hooo.” The two Sooty Owls were convulsedin laughter. “Doesn’t she remind you of Tibby, Swa-tums?” Then there was more cooing and giggling and disgusting preening. Soren felt that Gylfie’s