Guardians of Ga'Hoole 08 - The Outcast

but he felt as if he had entered a dream. A dream family. There was a young owl his age, a mum and da who loved and nurtured her. There was gentle bickering between the parents, and some squabbling and teasing. But there was love. And now for the first time ever, he was seeing a chick hatch.
    “Look, Myrtle, there’s the egg tooth coming through.”
    “Egg tooth?” Coryn wondered aloud.
    “Didn’t your mum tell you about the egg tooth?” Kalo said with a small giggle.
    “My mum told me nothing,” Coryn sighed. Nothing except false stories of glory, conduct of so-called valor that were really deeds of shame, tales of so-called honor that were in truth histories of disgrace, codes of loyalty that were in fact schemes of hatred and vengeance. Yes, that is what Nyra taught me.
    “The egg tooth, my dear,” Myrtle began, “is a tiny sharp tooth that has only one purpose: to help a chick peck its way out of the shell. It disappears soon after hatching.”
    They all watched spellbound now as a long crack began crinkling out from the tiny hole.
    “The ‘Fracture of Glaux’ some call it,” Harry whispered.
    “Get ready!” Kalo said. “It’s coming! I bet it’s a…” She started to say she thought it would be a boy, but Harry cuffed her wings gently. “What did I tell you? We don’t bet on such things. We just thank Glaux that we have our precious egg back.”
    There was a loud crack now as the egg split open. A shiny blob of a chick flopped out. Coryn was shocked. It was one of the most disgusting things he had ever seen—featherless, slimy with bulging eyes, but…but…I love it! Never had he felt such a swirl of emotions. It wasugly yet adorable. It was repulsive yet lovable. It was gooey with slime but he wanted to cuddle it. He watched transfixed as the tiny thing attempted to stagger to its feet and then collapsed.
    “It’s a boy!” Myrtle cooed. Then she looked up. “And we’ll call him Coryn!”
    “What?” Coryn said.
    “Of course, Coryn!” Harry repeated. Then hoorays broke out in the burrow.
    “I…I don’t know what to say.”
    “You don’t have to say anything,” Kalo spoke softly. “If it hadn’t been for you…”
    “Yes, Coryn. If it hadn’t been for you…” Myrtle’s eyes filled with tears.
    And then began all the wonderful little ceremonies that mark an owl’s life soon after hatching. The “Firsts” they were called. Coryn felt the most touching of all these ceremonies was the First Seeing ceremony, when the little chick first opened its bulging eyes and took a peek at its new world.
    “Just think,” Kalo whispered as little Coryn looked about. “He thinks this burrow is the whole world and there are only five owls in it!” That ceremony was followed usually by the First Worm or Insect ceremony, and Coryn was allowed to bring him his very first worm. Thenthere was the First Down ceremony when the first fluffy filaments of downy feathers began to sprout from the naked chick’s puckery skin.
    “Oh, you’ll be a regular little fluff-ball soon,” Harry said as he fussed over his son. “Here, chickie-chickie poo-poo!”
    “Da’s absolutely besotted!” Kalo said.
    “Besotted?” Coryn asked.
    “Fancy word for being in love, like yoicks with love,” Myrtle said. “Kalo is always using fancy words. ‘Besotted’ is her latest one.”
    But it was perfect, Coryn thought. He, too, was besotted. It sounded to him like being soggy with love—not simply yoicks or crazy.
    It would be so hard to leave. He felt as if he could stay in this burrow forever. He had already stayed too long, nearly five nights. They were now begging him to stay for little Coryn’s First Meat ceremony, which would be in another two nights. But he knew he couldn’t. This would be his last night. He would have to leave by First Black the next evening. But for tonight he and Kalo—with whom he had grown very close—would go out and hunt for that first meat together.
    Night flying with Kalo was very interesting. Kalo spent almost as much time on the ground poking into rats’ nestsand molehills as she did in the sky. Coryn supposed that this was the way it was with most Burrowing Owls, because they were known for their excellent walking skills and their long, strong, featherless legs.
    He was perched on a rock with a dead mouse firmly beneath one talon. It was curious, he thought. At first, he found the featherless legs of Burrowing Owls unattractive, almost disgusting. But now as