Guardians of Ga'Hoole 06 - The Burning

them frinking vultures have you.”
    Twilight looked down and saw the vultures tearing into the dead Pure Ones below. He suddenly dived down with his ice sword and swinging it wildly, scattered the vultures.
    “Whatcha do that for?” one of the dark birds asked.
    “Because I felt like it!” Twilight roared. He flew back to the band and fell in alongside the Glauxspeed owls who were transporting Gylfie in the airtight vacuum.
    “So, young’un”—Ezylryb had slid into the formation next to Soren—“you fly well with those claws.”
    “I do?” Soren was startled. How odd, the claws felt so light now. So light!
    “Cleve!” Otulissa exclaimed as she flew up to examine the vacuum. “What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t believe in war.”
    “I believe in saving lives, Otulissa.”
    “Cleve’s one of our best sky medics,” a Snowy of the Glauxspeed vacuum transport announced.
    “Oh, my goodness,” Otulissa gasped, and Soren could have sworn he saw the shimmer of a riffle pass through her spots. Soren and Digger exchanged glances and almost churred out loud. They both had the same thought. Was she actually flivling with this sky medic? Otulissa glanced at them and saw how they were looking at her. She immediately stilled her spots. No more riffling. She coughed slightly and directed her attention toward the transport vacuum. “My, this is truly an amazing manipulation of pressure. The pressure differential actually does create a viable vacuum. You know, I think Strix Emerilla, the renowned weathertrix to whom I am distantly related, helped develop this flying strategy.”
    Soren winked at Gylfie as if to say, “Some things never change.”
    “Oh, Otulissa,” Gylfie said weakly and paused for a long time. “It’s good to see you again!”
    The great tree was bustling with activity. It reminded Soren of the night the band had first arrived so many winters ago. There had been a skirmish up on the borderlands near Beyond the Beyond. The galleries of the great hollow were packed with owls awaiting orders on that night. Some wounded owls were already being brought in. The band was overwhelmed with what they had seen—metal helmets, candles, all sorts of devices, and the immense grass harp through which the nest-maids wove themselves in song.
    And now, just as it had then, a gong sounded. A sudden silence descended on the great hollow. Ezylryb flew up to a large perch. The wounded who were well enough to be moved had been brought from the infirmary to hear him. The old Whiskered Screech surveyed the throng of owls. His squinty eye seemed to take them all in, every Guardian, every Frost Beak and Glauxspeed soldier, every Kielian snake draped from the balconies.
    “My friends, soldiers, snakes, and owls, it was in the time of the copper-rose rain of three years past when we first engaged the Pure Ones. Many rains have come and gone since then. Winter, the time of the white rain, is about to set in. Many have died because of these tyrants. The first to die was our dear Strix Struma and last, Glauxwilling, is Bruce, veteran Snowy of the Flame Squadron. This mighty enemy nearly overran us With the terrible power they held at St. Aggie’s they had become a threat to all of owlkind, but we fought well; we are victorious.
    “We entered this war for simple and honorable reasons: We believe in the sovereign freedom of every living thing, be it owl, snake, or bear. We believe that freedom bestows dignity and that to enslave a mind or a population denies that freedom and destroys that dignity. If our civilization is to endure, and flourish, it will only do so in freedom and dignity.
    “Now is the moment when we must give our heartfelt thanks and tribute to our brothers and sisters from the Northern Kingdoms without whose immense support our task would have been doomed. Frost Beaks! Glauxspeed division! Ice Daggers! Kielian snakes! We thank you and salute your courage.”
    At this, a mighty hooting broke out from the owls of Ga’Hoole as they cheered the warriors from the Northern Kingdoms. After several minutes, Ezylryb pumped his wings as a sign for quiet. “Great sacrifices have been made these past years. I wish I could look into the future and assure you that there will be no more. But one can never be certain. We have seen how the Pure Ones distorted the single word ‘pure’ until it became synonymous with hatred, destruction, and despotism; how they created a society in which one breed of owl