Guardians of Ga'Hoole 02 - The Journey

he going to be sucked up? The last thing Soren remembered thinking about clearly was himself turning into a feathery ball of embers. A thought raced through his head: With my luck, I’ll be caught by Otulissa. What will it matter? I’ll be dead.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“A Coal in My Beak!”
    I have a coal in my beak! I have a coal in my beak! The words kept running through Soren’s head. He was flying in ascending circles, effortlessly. He was not singed. He was not burning, and there was this wonderful glowing thing in his beak that, indeed, seemed to flood his entire being with an extraordinary feeling. It was as if every single one of his hollow bones, every feather shaft brimmed with this feeling of transcendent power. Joy filled him, a joy such as he had never felt since perhaps the first time he had ever flown. But how he got this coal was still a mystery to him. He flew back to the ridge where the buckets were. Martin was beside him.
    “You were spectacular, Soren. I was so nervous when I saw that crown fire break and then when we saw you getting sucked up, I nearly went yeep.”
    “But what happened?” Soren asked. They were to stay on the ridge until the rest of the chaw returned.
    “You mean to tell me you don’t know?”
    “Not exactly.”
    “You did a reverse loop to escape the pull and as you were coming out of it this coal flew by. Bubo said he never saw a coal of that size go up so high, but you caught it! Caught it on the loop, Soren. I mean it was better flying than anything Ruby has ever done. It was absolutely spectacular.”
    “Great Glaux, I wish I’d seen it,” Soren said.
    Martin hooted loudly. “You did it, Soren! You did it!”
    Otulissa flew in next with Ruby and Poot. She had a full beak and dumped the coals into the bucket. “I got one! I got one!” And then she stopped and looked up, genuinely modest now. “But, Soren, it is nothing compared to what you did.”
    “Well, thank you, Otulissa…er…uh…That is very kind of you.”
    Otulissa bobbed her head and actually said nothing for once. Martin blinked at Soren as if to say, “I wonder how long that will last?”
    Soren looked about for Ezylryb. He wondered if Ezyl-ryb had seen him. Just then, the Whiskered Screech alighted with a bucket. He barely looked at Soren but busied himself shifting some of the coals into the new bucket.
    Oh, no, Soren thought. Will I ever understand this owl?
    Ezylryb was making his way down the line of buckets now. As he came next to the bucket where Soren had dropped his coal, he turned to look at him. The coal he held in his beak cast an eerie glow on his whiskered face. His amber eyes appeared red. “I hear you did a fair night’s work,” he mumbled through the coal. Then added, “Magnificent, perhaps.” He dropped the coal in the bucket and flew off to confer with Poot.
    They began their homeward journey with just an hour to spare before First Light. “Don’t worry about crows and mobbing,” Elvan said. “They never come near when we’re carrying live coals.”
    It was a beautiful time to fly. The air grew fresher and a light wind now ruffled the water into lacy crests. Even now, with the coals and cinders tame in the buckets, their power seemed to touch them. Fire, of course, was perhaps the most important element that made the Great Ga’Hoole Tree different from any other kingdom of owls. It made them more than a community or a gathering of owls. It made them a fellowship. And if they were to rise each night into the blackness and perform noble deeds, it was perhaps the fire that helped them do this: fire punched up to fierce heats with Bubo’s bellows for forgingmetals into battle claws; fire tamed into candle flames for reading and learning. And here these young owls of the chaw, just barely finished with being owlets themselves, were flying back across the Sea of Hoolemere with this precious element. No wonder they felt powerful. And now, as the sun rose bloodred in the east, Bubo’s deep rumble began to ring out across the water. It was the song of the colliers.

Give me a hot coal glowing bright red,
    Give me an ember sizzling with heat,
    These are the jewels made for my beak.
    We fly between flames and never get singed
    We plunge through the smoke and never cringe.
    The secrets of fire, its strange winds, its rages,
    We know it all as it rampages
    Through forests, through canyons,
    Up hillsides and down.
    We’ll track it.
    We’l l find it.
    Take coals by the