Guardians of Ga'Hoole 04 - The Siege

they called the beds of the infirmary. She looked perfectly fine to Soren.
    “You don’t look hurt at all,” Gylfie said.
    “I’m not!” Otulissa snapped. “It’s simply ridiculous that I’m being kept in here.”
    “What happened?” Soren asked.
    “I took a very light hit on my port side. They insisted I come here for observation because Strix Struma thought I was flying funny.”
    “Funny?” Gylfie asked.
    “Out of balance, that’s all. I’m flying fine now. I straightened out on the way back. I think they are being awfully cautious.”
    “What was it like?” Twilight said. “Out there you flew straight into the first wedge of the enemy. How did you do it?”
    Otulissa twisted her head almost entirely around to indicate the Barn Owl in the other croft. “Supposedly she’sunconscious, but you never can tell. So I can’t talk about anything having to do with the war. Nor should you.”
    “Oh,” Twilight said.
    “What else is there to talk about?” Digger offered.
    It was true, of course. Soren was observing Otulissa. She seemed different somehow. Maybe this was what flying straight against the enemy did to an owl.
    At just that moment, Dewlap stuck her head into the infirmary hollow. “Oh, great Glaux, Otulissa, what are you doing here?” She seemed stunned to find the Spotted Owl in the infirmary.
    “She’s been hurt,” Gylfie said. “That’s why she’s here.”
    Stupid old owl! Soren thought. Why else would she be here?
    “Why are you here, Dewlap?” Digger asked.
    “Well, I’m…I’m…” she began to stammer, then snapped, “I am here visiting the wounded.”
    Otulissa swung her head directly at the Ga’Hoolology ryb. Her amber gaze bore into Dewlap. “That’s so kind of you to come, even if you didn’t know I was here. Thank you very much. I’m sure the others wounded will be touched by your gesture.”
    Dewlap seemed to have recovered her poise. “Yes. I, of course, wasn’t sure who would be here, but I felt a visit was one very small kindness I could bestow in these troubledtimes.” And then she seemed distracted and her eyes grew misty and seemed to focus on something very far away. “Who would have ever thought it would all come to this?” she said softly, more to herself than anyone else. “To war,” she said in a low whisper.
    Soren, Twilight, and Gylfie spent two more nights on the snares but they caught very few owls. There was, in fact, very little action. Again, there was a disturbing silence. The winterlies had abated, although the temperatures had dropped dramatically. Ice floes were beginning to form in the Sea of Hoolemere. Rations were running short, for food had to be conserved. And although hunting units went out, it was so cold it seemed as if all the prey had taken to their burrows and were locked beneath the frozen earth. The nights were long and black, as the moon had dwenked and would not be back for several days.
    One night just before dawn as Soren, Gylfie, and Twilight finished snare detail, they sensed that something had changed within the tree. There was an anxious buzz but they could catch only fragments of hasty exchanges. Every time they passed one of the older owls, beaks seemed to clamp shut.
    “I heard something about a skirmish on the far side of the island,” Digger said, slipping into his place at Mrs.
    Plithiver’s table. She had stretched her body to its maximum length so more of the owls could be accommodated. Primrose, Eglantine, and Martin crowded around the rosy-scaled table that Mrs. P. provided with her wonderfully pliant body. Ga’Hoole nut cups filled with watered-down milkberry tea were placed next to minced mouse. It was not the fare they were accustomed to, but no one dared complain. A month from now they might be looking back on this as a magnificent repast. The winters on the Island of Hoole were normally long and harsh, and now with war, even harsher.
    “Attention!” It was the booming voice of Boron. “Ezylryb, our minister of war, has requested to address us at this breaklight meal.”
    Ezylryb, looking quite haggard, flew to the top perch in the dining hall. “I shall be direct and concise. I am afraid the news is not good. Many days have passed since this war began. We have met with great successes on the western front. But on the northeastern shores, in a quadrant where we thought ourselves invulnerable because of the fierceness of the winter seas combined with the wrathful winds out of the Ice