Guardians of Ga'Hoole 09 - The First Collier

shaggy silver coat tinged orange in the reflected light of the fire and coals, and “bonk!” he howled again. When I asked him upon landing what the word meant, he said, “I don’t know. It just cameout.” This was the way it was sometimes when one felt joy, the words just streamed out. Sometimes they made sense, other times they did not. We both laughed and from that day on we called these coals “bonk coals.”
    But I’ll never forget that moment when I landed with the coal in my beak and dropped it in front of him. He stared down at the coal, which pulsed with a heat that stirred the air into shimmering waves. Once more he leaped high into the air, the moon silvering his pelt, and began to howl that savage untamed song of wolves in the night. He called to me as he shot higher and higher with each exuberant leap. “Grank, you are indeed a hunter of coals, a collier.”
    And so, though I had never before heard that word—collier—I knew what he said was right. I was indeed a collier. The first collier.
    The finding of that bonk coal marked the beginning of a new phase of our education about fire. I was able to harvest a bountiful supply of coal, which provided us with a steady stream for our work. I learned not only how to fly those peculiar drafts of hot air but to follow the trajectories of the coals. I learned how to time their falls. We began building all sorts of fires and experimenting with rocks that bore traces of metal—and other things as well.One night I had caught a small vole, and we decided just for the fun of it to try roasting the plump fellow. The burnt fur tasted awful but the meat was good, quite flavorful. So the next time I caught one, Fengo scraped off the fur so only the flesh was left. It was quite delicious. That was the beginning of all sorts of food experiments. But I have to say as flavorful as roasted meat was it went down rather dry. After a steady diet of it, I truly missed the blood.
    Perhaps the most interesting experiments we tried with fire were those using sand. There was a particular kind of sand that could be found in the pits around the ring of volcanoes. When we heated it up to very a high temperature, curious transformations began. The bits of sand melted together and when it cooled became clear as the issen glossen or clear ice of the N’yrthghar. So we called it “glossen,” or simply “gloss.” Both of us were thrilled with this discovery, but for me, it also marked a strange interlude in my life. One for which I shall always feel deep shame. I cringe to think of it. But, Dear Owl, as a writer, I owe one thing to you, and that is complete honesty.

CHAPTER FIVE
A Strange Interlude
    A fter our discovery of gloss, Joss arrived with a message calling me back to the N’yrthghar. War had not broken out nor had peace been shattered. I was called to attend the annual lemming hunt held by Lord Arrin, a powerful lord in the Firth of Fangs whose allegiance was vital to the High King.
    Lord Arrin’s realm was rich in issen blaue, a kind of ice that had many uses in the Northern Kingdoms, particularly for weapons. Also in the region of the Firth of Fangs, there was a preponderance of Great Snowy Owls who, as a breed, were particulary skillful fighters. Snowies were also known for their expertise in hunting lemmings; thus, the annual lemming hunt. So the Firth of Fangs was a region rich in resources vital to the High King. Add to this the additional fact that Lord Arrin himself was an owl of great vanity, and it would not do to offend him by not attending this event. I had secured for King H’rath the ice rights during the brief summer months when the issenblaue could be harvested. Each year these rights had to be renewed. It was always a delicate negotiation, and I was the chief negotiator.
    So, as much as I hated to leave the Beyond, there was little choice. Too much was at stake. And, in truth, the lemming hunt was fun, for it was not all just chasing after those stupid rodents. There were festivities and katabat dancing, a particular specialty of owls of the Northern Kingdoms, in which we danced in those boisterous winds unique to our kingdom.
    Lord Arrin was a generous host as well, and the bingle juice always flowed. There were always troops of gadfeathers to entertain us. Gadfeathers were wandering owls who were looked down upon in general, and often scorned by owls for having no solid place to roost. They lived for the most part by begging or stealing. But