Guardians of Ga'Hoole 09 - The First Collier

finally returned to Siv, who awaited her in a crevice at the base of the Ice Dagger. Siv was sitting on the sling in which she carried the egg.
    “Well?” Siv asked eagerly. “What took you so long?”
    “Bad news, milady,” Myrrthe replied.
    “Rorkna hasn’t died, has she?”
    “Worse, actually.”
    Siv felt her gizzard flinch. “Worse! What do you mean?”
    “Rorkna and all the sisters are spellbound. The Nacht Ga’.”
    Myrrthe thought that Siv might faint. Her sparkling eyes became lusterless. She swayed on her perch over the egg.
    How Myrrthe wished she had a crop, one of those gullet pouches that other birds had. Then she could have brought up some of that vole to feed her lady. “There, there, milady,” she said.
    Siv staggered a bit, then steading herself atop the egg. “Don’t worry, Myrrthe. I shall be fine. But I suppose we must leave here soon.”
    “Yes, milady. As soon as possible. Weather is coming in.”
    “Thank Glaux, you fashioned this fine sling for the dear egg.”
    “Yes, well, snow mice are more than just good to eat. Their pelts are useful, too. Madam?”
    “Yes, Myrrthe?”
    Myrrthe peeked out of the crevice. Snow was coming down harder. “I think we should go right now—by day. It’s starting to really blizzard. So I’ll blend in fine. Once I get rid of all these gadfeather trappings.”
    “Yes,” Siv agreed. “Time to get rid of these gaudy accessories. Odd, though, isn’t it? My great-aunt who was never even close to being a gadfeather loved all these trimmings. In moderation, of course. Still, I think spots are accessories enough for Spotted Owls. I shall begin to spottilate right now and this should obscure most of my darker feathers.”
    Myrrthe nodded.
    Spottilating was a very clever trick that Siv, H’rath, and I had devised for camouflage flights in blizzards. It involved fluffing the feathers in a certain way so that the white spots that mottled our darker plumage spread to cover the brown, thus making us appear whiter.
    This trick never ceased to amaze Myrrthe, and she watched in silence as Siv slowly became an almost purewhite owl. Then they rose off the Ice Dagger and within mere seconds melted into the white rage of the blizzard.

CHAPTER NINE
The Eyes of Fengo
    I n the whiteness of that blizzard, another owl had spottilated as well. Myself. And so we passed each other without ever knowing it. Aah! So clever we were. Ha! White fools flying through a white night! I bound for Elsemere, and Siv and Myrrthe just lifting off from the Ice Dagger upon which I would land in minutes to rest before pressing on to the sisters’ retreat. I lighted upon the Dagger and almost immediately saw signs that owls had been here. I examined their talon prints closely. I felt my gizzard quicken and then it nearly shimmered when I spotted a feather. It was Siv’s. I knew it. It just had to be. I was almost certain that she was a short flight away on the Island of Elsemere.
    I was so excited that as soon as I regained my strength I lifted off and set a course for Elsemere through the blinding blizzard. I had always had very keen white vision, something that owls of the N’yrthghar came by naturally because of our long winters, but my white vision wasespecially sharp now. So the scratchy outline of the island soon appeared out of the blizzard, but at nearly the same time, my gizzard gave a lurch that nearly sent me into an air tumble. I began backwinging immediately. I didn’t need to gaze into a fire to know that there was something awful happening to the sisters of Glaux on the Island of Elsemere. I suddenly realized that my powers of intuition had been intensified. This new power must have come about because of my exposure to the ember. Now I knew what I must do.
    I began to circle back to the Ice Dagger. Thank Glaux, I had brought the horn with the coals in it. I would build a fire to see more precisely what was transpiring on Elsemere with the sisters and possibly Siv. And this time I would act. No, I would not fall prey to that dazed, hypnotic state in which I saw everything but did nothing.
    Using some moss and small twigs I always carried in a lemming-skin pouch, I soon had a small but very serviceable fire going. I squatted down on the windward side of it so the flames would not blow in my face and began to read them. First, I scanned the licks of orange-and-yellow flames for any sign of Siv but could find nothing. I quickly realized that this was rather stupid of