Guardians of Ga'Hoole 09 - The First Collier

thought of her aunt Agatha in years, but her great-aunt had been terribly wounded in a catastrophic encounter with hagsfiends long ago in the Bitter Sea. During this battle, not one but both of her wings had been horribly maimed. She had been a superb warrior, but she never could fly the position of first ice sliver again. Nonetheless, she had recovered enough to fly in combat. This time as strategic commander of the Ice Scimitar Brigade. She had developed a superb talon technique with the reverse ice scimitar, a very oddly shaped weapon that was perfectly suited for her peculiar wing configurations. Aunt Agatha’s amazing courage and determination had been the source of that most famous Krakish motto: “Cintura Vrulcrum, Niykah Kronig,” which roughly translates to “Every wound a new opportunity, every curse a new challenge.”
    Siv drifted off to sleep with one thought. I must heal. I must heal. I must heal. So much to be done.
    “I need fish!” Siv said when she awoke. Myrrthe greeted this news with mixed emotions. She was overjoyed that her dear lady was hungry. This was a good sign. But at the same time she felt her gizzard crinkle. She needs fish! Myrrthe thought. What she needs is a Fish Owl!
    “Yes, milady, fish oil is the best remedy for rebuilding splintered feather shafts.”
    “Can you get on with it?” Siv pressed. But she immediately felt guilty for being so peremptory with her dear servant. Although her port wing sent ripples of pain through her body, she knew that this was no cause for rudeness. “I’m sorry. So sorry, Myrrthe. How insensitive of me. I know no more about catching fish than you do. Forgive my rudeness.”
    “No need, milady. Just let me think a moment.”
    “Take all the time you need, Myrrthe.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A Polar Bear Named Svenka
    I n her day, Myrrthe had seen a few Fish Owls, and now she tried to remember how they performed the complex feat of plunging through the water’s surface and coming back up with a nice fat fish. She was fairly sure that one had to begin the dive from very high up and come in on a fairly steep angle. She thought about it several more minutes and then perched herself at the edge of the cavern and peered down into the water. She supposed she would have to keep her eyes open under the water. Not a pleasant thought!
    “All right, milady. I’ll give it a go.”
    “Good luck, Myrrthe,” Siv said.
    But Myrrthe was already spiraling upward in flight.
    She tried once, twice, then three and four times. She was keeping her eyes open underwater but she never saw anything. She hated the rush of bubbles and the deafening sound of the water roaring by her ear slits.
    On her fifth try, a single word rang out in this isolated firthkin:
    “WRONG!”
    Myrrthe pulled out of the spiraling plunge and lighted on top of the iceberg.
    “Who said that?” She looked around and saw nothing but another iceberg floating by. But suddenly, part of the iceberg rose up and a furry, clawed paw poked at the sky. Myrrthe blinked.
    “You’re starting too high.” It was a polar bear. Myrrthe had seen them many times from a distance but never had met, let alone spoken, to one. In the N’yrthghar there was very little exchange or communication among species. The bear swam up to the edge of the berg and, resting both paws, peered up at Myrrthe with its small close-set dark brown eyes. The iceberg tipped, the edge now buried in the water. Myrrthe began to slide and gripped the ice with her talons.
    She had never seen such hugeness, such enormity, such byggenbrocken. Every word for “gigantic” flooded through Myrrthe’s head, but then she realized with a start that she was not even seeing half of this bear. Its coat was thick and creamy in color and, although the fur was tightly packed, Myrrthe could see very black skin beneath itwhere the coat creased as the bear’s paws spread on the iceberg. Its shoulders and neck had a bunched look, and Myrrthe bet that, if swimming at full speed, this bear could ram an iceberg in half. Its ears, round and stubby, were rather adorable. “Look,” the bear said, “when you’re finished staring at me I’ll give you some tips on fishing.”
    “Oh, sorry, so sorry. How rude of me!” Myrrthe said.
    “You’ve never seen one of us close up?”
    “Not this close.”
    “Well, your loss,” the bear said blithely. Then in a more companionable manner, she said, “Might I offer some suggestions on where you are going wrong in