Guardians of Ga'Hoole 10 - The Coming of Hoole

“You saw it in the fire?”
    Hoole nodded.
    “What did you see in the fire? When?”
    “I should have told you, but one day when I was flying over the fire in the forge, something caught my eye in the flames—a shape. And there was something in that shape that made me feel wonderful. It drew me to it. But I didn’t want to go see it any closer until I could do it alone. Theo was working with his tongs. So I sneaked out when you were both sleeping.” He blinked at Grank. It was the kind of blink young owls often gave when they were slightly ashamed, when they were caught being disobedient.
    “Go on, lad,” Grank said in a gentle tone.
    “Well, I just knew that this shape, this thing was coming for me. It made me feel all warm inside. I felt this terrible longing. I knew that I would never be whole until she came. Even though I wasn’t sure what it was, what the shape was, I knew it was a she, that I belonged to her and she belonged to me. I would be made complete when she came. So every dawn I snuck down and watched the flames.”
    “I see now,” Grank began to speak slowly. “I see now why it happened.”
    “Why what happened? Are you angry, Uncle Grank?”
    “No, lad. It’s just that you are a fire reader—like me. Only your vision is stronger, much stronger, and that is why there were no images left for me to read in the flames.”
    “I’m sorry, Uncle Grank. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
    “Don’t be sorry, lad. You have a gift. You can read deep into the flames.”
    “Fire reader?” Phineas said.
    “Never heard of such a thing.” The Snow Rose looked at Theo as if for an explanation.
    But Theo could say nothing. He was just looking at Hoole and remembering the peculiar luminosity of the egg from which this owl had hatched. This owl, this prince was special. If there was any creature on earth who could save the N’yrthghar and quell the hagsfiends and their poisonous magic, it must be Hoole. But for now he must not know that he is a prince and a future king. No one must know. They must fly immediately to the Beyond. Yes, thought Theo, and like the metals I work with in my fires, young Hoole will be tempered and wrought into a king.
    Into a king!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A Wolf Howls
    T he wolf called Fengo sat on a high ridge and, with his head thrown back, he began to howl. His strange mad music, wild and untamed, threaded through the night that glowed with the fires of the volcanoes. There are many ways in which a wolf howls, most of them understandable to other wolves. Through their howling and scent marking they speak of danger, of the territorial boundaries, of herds of caribou to be hunted. But sometimes they simply howl—not to communicate, but to mourn or wail messages meant only for themselves or for Lupus. It was to the constellation they called Lupus, that great wolf of the sky, that Fengo now howled.
Where is he? Where is he? Where is Grank?
    Never gone so long.
    Has he been killed?
    Does he now climb the spirit trail,
    Lupus?
    The good owl, friend of mine.
    He is owl. I am wolf.
    He is sky. I am earth.
    We are brothers of this world.
    This particular kind of howling was called glaffing, and it was considered poor form to interrupt a glaffing wolf. But another wolf began to climb the ridge where Fengo howled. Fengo did not stop but rose to his feet, the hackles on the back of his neck stiffened, his ears raised now, and his tail lifted in a line horizontal with his spine. The approaching wolf, MacHeath, began to crouch and pull back his mouth into a grimace. With his belly scraping the ground and his ears laid back flat, he started to move forward toward Fengo in an attitude of complete submission.
    How dare he approach me when I am glaffing. Such swine, these MacHeaths! Fengo continued glaffing, trying to ignore the wolf. But his mind was drawn to other thoughts. Why did I even bother to include the MacHeaths on our journey from the Always Cold. The wolves led by Fengo had left the land far to the west that had once been hospitable but had grown colder and colder, colder even than the N’yrthghar, until every river and stream and pond was frozen and even the waterfalls were stilled. They had made the long journeythat had taken countless moons to this land of Beyond the Beyond where fires scorched the sky and the land never froze. Fengo paid no heed to the wolf and continued his glaffing for Grank. Never had Grank been gone so long, and deep in his bones Fengo felt