Guardians of Ga'Hoole 08 - The Outcast

blind, or have no sense of smell, Coryn thought as the creature went back to eating. The River Legs were stealing closer. Now Coryn observed one of the River Legs give a signal to another. It did something with its tail. The other hunter noticed it and was off. The signal seemed to spread through the River Legs. They formed a circle around the animal, tightening it every few moments through some invisible code or signal that Coryn could not understand.
    The Running Tree was suddenly aware. It reared up, its eyes wild with terror. The four River Legs pounced onit and brought it down. One of the hunters slashed a hip wide open, another ripped open a shoulder. But the Running Tree staggered to its feet somehow. It stared hard at its attackers as if it were taking a death stand, as if saying, I cannot run, but I can stand and stare you down even as you set to kill me. Coryn was rapt. He had never seen anything like this. It was as if in that moment something was exchanged between prey and predator.
    Two River Legs began to harass it by darting in quickly with bites and snaps aimed at the belly. More blood spurted out. They obviously wanted to keep the Running Tree bleeding.
    The creature began to wobble on its spindly legs, and then a few seconds later, it collapsed. But Coryn could still hear its labored breathing. A single River Legs now came up. It was the animal that had originally split the Running Tree from the herd. He walked around to the head of the dying beast. Coryn flew down close. He saw the killer dip his head close to the prey. Something astonishing was happening. This was not simply a stare now. The eyes of both animals locked together. There was something ceremonial about this locking of the eyes.
    Coryn knew he was right. Something was being agreed upon between the predator and the prey. It was the River Legs who now seemed submissive, as if he were asking forsomething, asking for the life of the Running Tree, and the Running Tree in silence was responding by saying, I am valuable. My meat will sustain you. I am worthy.
    Then in one slash with his fangs, the River Legs opened the animal’s belly and tore at its guts. There was a final gasp and then nothing.
    Coryn was stunned. He had killed many animals in his young life but he had never locked eyes with them. He had never thought much about their dying. But this was a different kind of death. It seemed almost noble. There was dignity in both the killing and the dying.
    He flew to a rock outcrop to watch as the rest of the River Legs came in for the feed. There seemed to be an order to this as well. Immediately after the death rip to the stomach, the River Legs threw his head back, closed his eyes, and howled. A large gray female trotted up to him. Coryn guessed that she was his mate. They ate first. Next came the other hunters, the ones that had chased the Running Tree and the ones that had brought it down and harassed it. The rest of the group next moved in, and finally the young ones—the yearlings and then the pups.
    But Coryn noticed one yearling lurked around the edges seeming to beg for food. None of the others, not even the pups, would let him in for the smallest nip. Hiscoat did not gleam like the rest; in fact, his fur was scruffy and ragged and he even had bald patches. And one of his hind legs was bent and shorter than the other. Finally, when the other River Legs moved off, he approached the remains of the carcass in a limping gait.
    Coryn wondered if there might be anything left for himself. He was not even sure that he would like the taste of a Running Tree. But he was hungry. He was just about to spread his wings when a shadow passed over him.
    “Not so fast, young’un. We go first.”
    Coryn looked up. It was the raven he had sensed earlier. There were now four others, as well. The raven lighted down on the outcropping.
    “They don’t call us wolf birds for nothing, you know.”
    “Wolf birds? I thought you were a raven.”
    “We are, but we follow the wolves.”
    “Wolves?” Coryn blinked.
    “Wolves. What did you think it was that brought down that caribou? Fairy folk?”
    “Fairy folk?”
    The raven laughed raucously. “You’re in a land of great superstition here. Before our time, the Others and such like yourself believed in little spirits with wings. They called them fairy folk.”
    “Oh.” Coryn was feeling exceedingly stupid. In a moment he would feel even stupider. “I didn’t know what those creatures were