Guardians of Ga'Hoole 04 - The Siege

additional dietary supplements.” She paused and Soren’s gizzard turned squishy as the pale light in her eye hardened. “My sweeties, you may have a bit of vole. I think it will be a treat. That will set you up just fine, dearies.” And she gave Martin a little tweak with her beak. Soren saw him flinch.
    Oh, Glaux, Soren thought, it’s the old Finny. There was something even scarier about Finny when she was being all honey-beaked and charming because Soren knew it was false. And there was always a price to pay. She might slip you an extra piece of vole, or one of the plump rock rats that scurried through the canyons, but then you were expected to give her something in return—information, or perhaps to spy and report to her. That was the way itworked and, little by little, an owl dug himself in deeper, owing her more, making himself more vulnerable to her power, deceit, and brutality. Nonetheless, they had no choice now. This is what they had wanted and this is what they got. At least they would get to see Ruby in the hatchery. But it would not be until their third day as moss tenders that they would have a good opportunity to speak with Ruby.
    “Moss tender! Moss tender! Attention, please!” It was Ruby. She was broody on a nest of Barn Owl eggs. There was never any attempt to match up the species of the broody with that of the egg. Therefore, Barn Owls might be sitting on Barred Owl eggs, or Short-eared Owls, such as Ruby, might be sitting on Great Gray eggs. It seemed that they tried their best to avoid matching up the broody with the type of eggs. Soren supposed it was because when an egg finally hatched, they didn’t want the chick to have the least sense of anything familiar—like a true parent. Love was not part of hatching. These chicks were not supposed to love; they were supposed to obey.
    “I was just there,” another Barn Owl said. “You don’t need anything more.”
    “Oh, I just thought a nice fat worm would do. Don’t you worry about it. There’s two moss tenders right nearby,” Ruby said, looking in Soren and Martin’s direction.“One has a worm in that wad of moss. And the other, I know, will fetch me that rat from the crack over there where I just saw the tail of one disappear.” Martin blinked, for he did not have a worm in his moss. Soren had been next to the crack, and he hadn’t seen a rat disappear into it.
    He and Martin had managed a few fleeting conversations with Ruby before the end of this third day as moss tenders. But this was the first time that she had actually called them over. The previous day she had been sitting on Spotted Owl eggs. But they had hatched out, and she had been assigned to a new nest.
    The other Barn Owl seemed relieved to not have to fetch anything for the broody. Broodies were treated well. They were constantly being offered a great array of delicacies and nutritious foods that the other owls hardly ever saw.
    “I have to make this quick!” Ruby spoke in a whispery hiss. “Listen! They’re doing something funny to the nests of Barn Owl eggs.”
    “Who?” Soren asked.
    Ruby nodded toward two Barn Owl moss tenders who were tucking in bits of moss and dry grass into some nests on the far side of the hatchery.
    “What do you mean?” Soren asked. Oh, the sound of those wh words were like honey in his beak. He could almost taste them!
    Ruby stirred in her nest. “Shield me so they won’t see.” It was strictly forbidden for a broody to climb off her nest, but now Ruby moved to one side. Because she was such a superb flier, she was able to loft herself very quickly into a low hover inches above the nest.
    Martin and Soren gasped. Deep amid the woven twigs and grasses of the nest were three eggs. Between them, in the strands of moss, glinting fiercely, were small sparkling bits.
    “Flecks!” Soren said.
    The truth suddenly broke upon Soren like a clap of thunder. There were infiltrators. They had somehow escaped being moon blinked. They had gained control of at least some of the flecks—but why were they weaving them into the moss that they poked into the nests? What could flecks do in a nest with unhatched eggs? Soren felt his gizzard grow still and cold. They’re doing something dreadful, he thought. I am sure! I must get to Gylfie. Racdrops! If only we were in the same pit!
    And there was still so much of the day left. It would be hours until tween time, when they could return to their pits.
    “And there’s another thing,” Ruby