Guardians of Ga'Hoole 06 - The Burning

It was unbelievable.

CHAPTER SEVEN
Flivling and Riffles
    B ut Ifghar’s plan went terribly wrong for everyone.” Gylfie sighed.
    “How so?” Otulissa asked. They had returned from the meditation flight and were in their own hollow, high in one of the birch trees. The wind had picked up and the birches, which were quite slender compared to the Great Ga’Hoole Tree, swayed wildly in the night. Both Gylfie and Otulissa enjoyed the movement. It gave them the odd sensation of still flying abroad in the dark folds of the evening sky while at the same time being cozy in their hollow.
    “Lil was killed in the battle,” Gylfie replied. “It was in that same battle that Ezylryb lost one of his talons, and Octavia was blinded.”
    “Are you sure that scruffy old owl is Ifghar?” Otulissa asked. Gylfie nodded.
    “What’s he doing here?”
    “The League of the Ice Talons was finally defeated long after Ezylryb and Octavia had come here and then left forthe great tree. I guess by that time Ifghar was pretty old and had nowhere to go. He certainly couldn’t fly back to the Kielian League. Turnfeathers are hardly welcomed guests. And the Glauxian Brothers are always neutral, so it was a safe haven for him. But I would sure like to ask his attendant, the Short-eared Owl, some questions, though.”
    “Good luck,” Otulissa said.
    “Oh, they aren’t always that strict about the silence thing. It’s mostly in the public spaces of the retreat. I’m sure I could go to her hollow and have a little chat. But what happened to you tonight, Otulissa? You certainly broke the silence.”
    Otulissa sighed deeply. “It’s a long story. I’ll make it short. Extremely handsome owl who happens to be a prince. And yoicks.”
    Gylfie blinked. “A prince who’s yoicks?”
    “Oh, he has this totally yoickish notion. He doesn’t believe in war. Can you imagine, Gylfie?”
    “Well, I don’t find that hard to understand at all. I mean, when Ezylryb came here to the retreat, he hung up his battle claws and gave up fighting.”
    “But this owl is a prince, Gylfie. A prince from the royal hollow of Snarth of the Trident Islands in Firthmore. Do you know their history? The battles they fought? It’s the same hollow that Strix Struma came from.”
    “Well, he doesn’t believe in war. That’s all,” Gylfie said.
    “That’s all?” Otulissa shot back. “I don’t see it that way.”
    “Well, what does he believe in?”
    “Medicine. He came here to study herbs and healing.”
    “The Glauxian Brothers are experts in the healing arts. They have the biggest collection of books on medicine, herbs, and all manner of diseases anywhere. That’s why we’re here, remember? So you can read the only existing copy of Fleckasia and Other Disorders of the Gizzard.”
    “I know, I know,” Otulissa said testily. “So we better get going because we’ve probably already missed a good bit of the study hollow’s near-wordless discussion. I tell you, this place frinks me off.”
    Gylfie blinked her eyes rapidly. Otulissa could be simply impossible. “Look, just promise me one thing?” she asked.
    “What’s that?”
    “No more outbursts! The next thing you know, you’ll be saying the you-know-what word.”
    “I won’t. Don’t be ridiculous.”
    But Otulissa could be unpredictable. Like right now, Gylfie thought. It was clear to her that Otulissa had really liked the handsome Spotted Owl. That was so unlike Otulissa. She had no time for such things, and Glaux knew she wouldn’t know the first thing about flivling, the owl word for flirting.
    How wrong one can be! Gylfie thought as she observed Otulissa in the study hollow. A discussion of fleckasia had been under way for some time. Of course, leading the conversation was Otulissa, carrying on about the four quadrants of the gizzard and the humors associated with each of these quadrants. And to whom was she tipping and cocking her head as she made her remarks? None other than Cleve of Firthmore, prince of the royal hollow of Snarth.
    “For example, Cleve.” Blink, blink went Otulissa’s eyes with a sparkle that Gylfie had never seen before. “I would say that you have an abundance of fleebis in your third quadrant.”
    “Really!” replied Cleve.
    “Really!” Otulissa said. “Many of the brightest and most perceptive Spotted Owls are known for this. For example, a distant relative of mine, the renowned weathertrix of the last century, Strix Emerilla—”
    “Aaahhhhh!”