Guardians of Ga'Hoole 07 - The Hatchling

his talons and squeezed the blood from it over Nyroc’s head. When they returned to their rocky nest, Nyroc’s white face was red with the chipmunk’s blood. His gizzard squirmed uncomfortably as he felt the mask of blood drying, tightening on his face.
    There was a celebration that night on the ledges between the Great Horns, the two peaks that rose like the tufts of a Great Horned Owl into the starry sky. Nyroc saw his mum in deep conversation with Gwyndor. She saw her son perched off to one side, alone and in deep thought. She came up to him and gave him a gentle swat. The otherowls his age were off in playful flights riding the thermals off the Great Horns. They had not invited Nyroc to join them. “Don’t be a spoilsport, dear. This is your celebration. You don’t look happy at all. What in Glaux are you thinking about?”
    Nyroc hesitated a minute while he commanded another thought to enter his head so he would not have to tell his mother what he was truly thinking about. He knew this was close to lying. He had never told a lie before, never even dreamed of it, and especially not to his mum. “You really want to know, Mum?”
    “Of course I want to know.”
    “Green,” Nyroc said quietly. “I was thinking about green.”
    Nyra blinked and then narrowed her eyes. Sometimes her son confounded her. She would perceive a glimmer of something in him that made her uneasy. He was so disciplined. She credited herself for developing that in him, but how could such a controlled mind be thinking about something so ridiculous as green? “Green? Green what?” she screeched.
    “Green, the color green. I want to know what green is.”
    “Leaves are green,” Nyra said with exasperation.
    “But I’ve never seen a leaf. Everything is burnt up around here.”
    “Well, someday, after your Special ceremony—if youperform your Special ceremony in a brave manner—I’ll fly you to a place so you can see a living tree.”
    “Really, Mum? Really! Oh, Mum, I love you sooo much.”
    Nyra looked at him strangely. Where did he learn these things? These words like “love”?
    Later during the celebration when he and Dustytuft were riding the thermals, Nyroc spotted his mum on a ledge below in deep conversation with Gwyndor again.
    “Dustytuft, what’s Mum talking to Gwyndor about, and how come he’s still here? I thought he had just come for the Marking at the Final ceremony.”
    “I’m not sure. Rumor has it that she is trying to get him to make some fire claws.”
    “What are fire claws?” Nyroc asked.
    “The deadliest kind of battle claws. Somehow they put a live coal in the tip of each claw. It allows a soldier to fight within intense heat at very close range.”
    “Glaux. It sounds exciting! Have you ever fought with them?”
    Dusty blinked. “Of course not. You don’t think they would give a lowly Sooty Owl such a powerful weapon?”
    “Oh, Phillip,” Nyroc said softly. “I’m going to talk to Mum about getting you promoted.”
    “That’s very kind of you, Nyroc, but I don’t think it’ll work.”
    “Why not? She’s let you become my best friend.”
    “Yes,” Dustytuft replied, trying not to let his voice quaver or betray his anxiety. This special treatment by Nyra was still confounding him. That she would let her precious hatchling become such good friends with a Sooty Owl was not easily explained.

CHAPTER FIVE
What Does This Young’un See?
    I t was a chilly dawn and normally Nyroc’s mum would have been there all fluffy and cozy to nestle up against. She had been there a short time before when they had nestled in for their day sleep. It was most unusual for his mum to be gone at this hour. Nyroc stood up a little straighter. He cocked his head one way and then the other. He heard whisperings from a ledge several feet below him. In the pit of a stone well there were the twigs and curls of bark laid out.
    “Look here, Gwyndor,” Nyra was saying. “Isn’t this a perfect place for a forge? I had my lieutenants bring in this kindling for you. I think you could get a fire going hot enough for some good fire claws.”
    “It’s not that, madam.”
    “Well then, what is it?”
    “It’s difficult to explain. But I am not comfortable making the claws.”
    “Battle claws, be they fire claws or not, have never been a matter of comfort.”
    “But they do bad things to the Glaux-given talons we have. They scorch and ruin your talons, madam.”
    “But they kill so well!” Nyra replied