Guardians of Ga'Hoole 05 - The Shattering

hollow. There was a blur of feathers. Eglantine blinked. There, standing before her right next to Ginger, was Primrose. The two owls stared at each other, displaying neither shock nor dismay.
    “Here is your little friend now,” the Barn Owl said.She looked from Eglantine to Primrose and back again. “Are you surprised? I always like to encourage friendship, you know.”
    Eglantine felt a dreadful quiver in her gizzard.
    “Hi,” said Primrose softly. Eglantine didn’t quite know how to respond. She had so many questions. Why were Primrose’s eyes so glassy? It was Primrose, wasn’t it? Or was it a dream Primrose like her dream mum? Eglantine’s gizzard began to twitch as it had not in weeks. Her mother set out some centipedes, and then turned to Primrose and to Ginger.
    “Eglantine and I always sing the centipede song together, don’t we, darling?”
    Eglantine swung her head toward the large Barn Owl. Her black gaze bore into this dream mother. And one thought filled her brain: Would I rather live in a world without my mum and da or in a world with a dream mum? She knew the answer. In that infinitesimal sliver of a second, the world became clear to Eglantine.
    “It’s Eggie! Mum called me Eggie. NOT DARLING!” she roared. Eglantine now knew that this was not her mum, nor just any dream mum. This was Nyra, the deadly mate of Kludd. And now Nyra was moving toward her with a savage look in her eyes. Her beak dropped open, ready tostab. Then an immense crack split the night. Primrose felt every feather on her body stand up. Eglantine stared as Nyra’s feathers stuck stiffly straight out from her body and quivered. Next, there was a terrible sizzling sound and, suddenly, the fir tree burst into flames.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Piece by Piece
    E zylryb and his weather-and-colliering chaw perched in the highest branches of the Great Ga’Hoole Tree. The weather was foul, but nonetheless they tried to look out across the Sea of Hoolemere. Legions of electrical storms like attendants for a monarch had been accompanying this late-season hurricane that had swirled out of the warm waters of the southernmost region of the sea. Ezylryb had been expecting something like this. All summer his weather probes, a series of devices and experiments, had shown unusually warm water. Hurricanes fed on warm water.
    Next to Ezylryb perched Soren, frantic with worry over his sister and Primrose. They could be anywhere out there in this beastly weather, he thought. And the two young owls were completely inexperienced in flying the unpredictable—and often lethal—winds of a hurricane. Soren himself had flown in only one, and it had really been just the raggedy fringes of a hurricane at that. But it had been bad enough.
    The search-and-rescue mission for Primrose and Eglantine had been called off due to the weather. But… Soren almost dared not give words to the thought. He turned his head slightly toward Ezylryb. Was the old Whiskered Screech thinking of launching a weather-and-colliering chaw mission? With all the electrical storms, there were bound to be forest fires. Bubo’s forge was low on the kind of coals he liked the best, the hottest ones, which burned with a fierce energy and were full of what blacksmiths called bonk. If it hadn’t been for the great abundance of bonkful coals last winter, they never would have survived the siege of the Pure Ones. But, of course, Soren was hoping not just to find bonk coals but also his sister and the dear little Pygmy Owl, Primrose, whom he had met on his very first night in the Great Ga’Hoole Tree when she had been brought in dazed from a fire in her home forest of Silverveil. Just as Soren was thinking about all this, Bubo lighted down on the limb.
    “What’cha think, Cap?” Bubo asked.
    “Can’t see much from here. Not the course of its river at least.”
    Soren knew that what Ezylryb meant by “its river” was the constantly moving and changing air that was embedded deep in a hurricane and, as it flowed, directed its course. “From here, it’s hard to see much. I think I see asmudge of rosy light stretching from The Barrens to maybe even The Beaks.”
    “Huh, that be curious,” Bubo said. “The Beaks. Usually sweet as spring there. Nary a storm nor even the slightest thundershower.”
    The Beaks! Even though it had been long ago that Soren and his band had been caught in its deadly charm, The Beaks still struck fear in him. Surely, Ezylryb was not thinking of going to