Guardians of Ga'Hoole 06 - The Burning

and moss. They were eight owls crammed onto this narrow shelf with their botkin bags of weapons. Icicles from above seemed to grow longer by the minute. The icicles hanging down over the shelf made it seem as if they were looking out from the inside of the fanged mouth ofsome major carnivore. Not pleasant. But then again, what were they to do? Icy, slopping winds were throwing up an amazing array of sea life, none of which looked particularly appealing as food.
    “Now, tell me,” Digger said, regaining some of his usual equanimity. “how do you eat something like that?” He was looking down on an octopus that had just been flung up.
    “Where to even begin?” Eglantine sighed.
    “Eight legs. Absurd,” Gylfie said. “She should trade in four of them for a pair of wings.”
    “How do you know it’s a she?” Ruby asked.
    “Interesting that you should raise the question of gender in reference to an octopus,” Otulissa began.
    Please shut up. Oh, please shut up. I shall not resort to violence. I am the leader of this mission. I shall not resort to behavior unbecoming a leader. Soren had shut his eyes in an attempt to quell his anger and concentrate on not batting Otulissa over the head with an icicle. He felt something small nudge his foot. It was Gylfie. “Soren, what’s that out there? It doesn’t look good.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Pirates
    I t certainly did not. Silence fell upon the owls. Out across the water, in the spume-spun darkening night, a dozen or more owls flew toward the Ice Dagger. They were not from any of the forces of the Kielian League that they had met on Dark Fowl. There was not a Frost Beak or a Glauxspeed owl among them. But they were certainly armed, and they were most peculiar-looking. Their feathers were not black or white or gray or any of the tawny brown colors of normal owls but had been dyed bright and garish hues. Some had patches of orange and purple, others had red and yellow, still others were iridescent greens and blues. “Holy Glaux, have you ever seen an owl that color?” Martin gasped.
    “What do they think they are—parrots?” Twilight muttered.
    “They’re kraals,” Otulissa said.
    “What?” Soren asked.
    “Kraals,” Otulissa repeated. “That’s Krakish for pirates.”
    “Pirates!” the seven other owls gasped.
    But at least Otulissa had the grace not to launch into a lecture on their phylum, genus, or species. They were, after all, owls. She had first read about pirate owls in the long narrative poem the Yigdaldish Ga’far, which related the heroic adventures of the Great Snowy Owl, Proudfoot, and an Eagle Owl called Hot Beak. No, it was not necessary to know what class or group these pirates belonged to. They were simply the thugs of the Northern Kingdoms. They fought for no side. They fought to kill, sometimes to capture, and always to steal. They were more dangerous than hireclaws, who fought for any side that would pay them, because basically these pirates stuck together as a band, and thus had become much more skillful in their strategies.
    “This does not look good,” Ruby said.
    “But I’m a bad baaaad owl!” Twilight hooted at the top of his lungs and, just as the pirates were closing in, the Great Gray broke from the prison of icicles. Then, seizing the largest icicle he could manage, he launched himself on a ferocious gust of wind. Ruby followed, then Soren, but before he flew off, he turned to Gylfie, Eglantine, and Digger. “You all stay here. You’re not in the weather chaw.You won’t be able to fly in this turbulence. Just keep us supplied with weapons.”
    “Yes, sir!” they all said. Soren knew that with his strong legs Digger would be great at prying off fresh ice shards for them, and he had been trained to do this on Dark Fowl by the snakes. Where are those snakes now? Soren wondered. If only the Glauxspeed unit or the Frost Beaks would show up. If only there were a tree. If only they had fire. But there was no time for if onlys. They had to fight. Otulissa and Martin were sparring with a glaringly bright yellow-and-purple owl. Martin darted through the winds, his ice splinter flicking in the night. Otulissa carried not one but two daggers in her talons.
    It was an odd sight: a dozen-plus owls whirling around the Ice Dagger that jabbed out of the sea. The dyed owls looked like a rainbow gone berserk. They were here, there, and everywhere. However, Soren had never seen anything so small fly as fast as Martin. There was