Guardians of Ga'Hoole 07 - The Hatchling

was an expert at something else—erasing unpleasant thoughts from his mind. It was probably this more than anything else that made him a model young owl in the small but growing cadre of young owls being trained to restore the glory of the Union. So that is exactly what he did now: He erased Nyra’s anger by basking in the glow of his recent achievement.
    His mother was a stern and unforgiving flight instructor. But how he loved her for that now. He churred softly to himself when he thought of those first lessons. Since the Battle of The Burning the primary element that owls used in their First Flight exercises was missing—trees. Young chicks, unless they had been hatched in the desert, usually began their flying lessons by “branching” or hopping from branch to branch. But since that last battle, the trees of the canyonlands—which had been sparse to begin with—were reduced to charred, jagged stumps. Sothere was no hopping from limb to limb for Nyroc but from rock to rock or ledge to ledge. It had not been a problem for him. Within a day he was managing short flights between rock ledges. But his mum was always demanding that he fly faster, and criticized his turns, which she said were messy, not worthy of a “drunk pigeon.”
    He gave another churr, the owl form of laughter, when he recalled this. He hadn’t minded flying faster but it made so much noise when he did it. The soft fringe feathers, unique to most owls, were responsible for the lovely silent flight at slower speeds, which he so enjoyed. But his mother insisted that he fly silently at ever greater speeds. Nyra herself was a very noisy flier although she thought she was quite silent. Nyroc could hear her coming in from a league away. She flapped in as noisily as a duck. But not Nyroc. He finally mastered the art of flying fast and silently. That was another bit of praise he had heard from the elders at the ceremony. “So fast! So quiet! Unbelievably gifted!” And another exclaimed, “Swift as an eagle. Silent as an owl. Truly brilliant. Just what we need to rebuild the empire.”
    Nyra, too, had heard this last remark and it pleased her. Not counting the new untrained recruits, there were barely twenty Pure Ones left since the last battle, but it was from these remnants that Nyra hoped to rebuild that empire ofgreatness, the Tytonic Union, that she and Kludd had ruled. Their past victories had been magnificent. They had invaded and ruled St. Aggie’s, the small but powerful stronghold to the south of where they now were, that possessed an important natural resource—flecks—which could be used to control the minds and gizzards of other owls. But at the last battle with the Guardians of Ga’Hoole, St. Aggie’s had been lost and those flecks had somehow been rendered powerless by the raging fires.
    Nyra had flown out on an errand after reprimanding Nyroc and was now back at the hollow in the cleft. She had completely forgotten about her son’s insolent question. She was telling him how all the elders were raving about his performance. “They cannot believe your elegance and speed, my dear. You are perfection, but even perfection can be improved. Those new recruits who have been flying longer than you wish they were nearly as good.”
    “Really, Mum?”
    “Oh, yes, really. You should be so proud.”
    Nyroc thought about this for a moment. Then he nodded. “If I am like you and if I am like my da, yes, then I am proud.” It was the perfect answer. Nyra beamed.
    Nyroc often wondered if other owlets’ mothers were like his. Maybe not. But then again other owlets were not destined to become great leaders as he was.
    “You see,” his mum continued, “it is very important that you do everything just as I say, because soon your Special ceremony will be coming up. Your Tupsi.”
    Nyroc was not exactly sure what Tupsi was. He thought it might be connected to something with the prisoner, Smutty, but he certainly didn’t want to bring that Lesser Sooty up again, for that was what had caused his mum’s violent outburst. “What exactly is the Special ceremony, Mum? And why do they call it Tupsi?”
    “When I think you are ready, I’ll tell you all about it and after that ceremony you shall become an officer in the army of the Pure Ones. Oh, your father would have been so proud.” She sighed. “But before that we shall have the Marking, the Final ceremony for your father.”
    “When will that be, Mum?”
    “As soon as Uglamore and