Guardians of Ga'Hoole 11 - To Be a King

talon through the sand. “This is the shape of the pit. There are rocks here, here, here, here, and here. That is five rocks with broad surfaces. There are thirty of you as well. You will divide into five teams, six wolves to a team, and I shall help out wherever needed.
    “We need to leave before tween time.” Hoole paused. “Sorry, I forget myself. That is owl talk for the time between the last drop of daylight and the first shadows of night. We’ll approach the rocks under the camouflage of these first shadows. Now, do you all understand the strategy?”
    “Yes,” they answered. It was a strategy that was very similar to the one they used in hunting caribou.
    “Remember, if we do this right, there should be very little fighting at the onset, and then you can set in for the kill.”
    Once again the wolves bayed, “Yes.”
    “Fengo, you are prepared to lead the howls?”
    “Yes, Hoole. We will start with the lowest of the howls, the close-to-ground whines, proceed to the pack howl, and then to the death howl.”
    “To the death howl!” Stormfast, a huge wolf leaped up on his hind legs and struck at the sinking sun with his forepaws.
    “To the death howl!” The others leaped toward the sky.
    Hoole marveled. There was nothing more faithful than a wolf. So noble and so intelligent.
    And although the ember was far away, smoldering in its teardrop strongbox, he felt the power of it every time he looked into the green fire of those wolf eyes. Even though Grank had told Hoole that he had first glimpsed the image of the ember in the eyes of Fengo, in truth, every wolf seemed to have a reflection of this ember in their eyes, that unearthly green shimmer that inspired Hoole. He did not need to have the ember close by. He only needed to look into a wolf’s eyes. It would be this same green that emanated from those eyes that Hoole knew deep in his gizzard would lead to the downfall of the hagsfiends. But it was a magic they did not understand, could never believe in.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Night of the Green Light
    E ver since Hoole had run with the wolves that first time in the Beyond, there had been fleeting moments when he felt more wolf than owl. It was like that now as Hoole flew low over their silver-and-gray backs. The owl and the wolves were moving forward with the shadows as the night came on. Hoole felt each light footfall of the wolves. His breath came in the same panting rhythms. The wolves had assumed the tight pack of an ambush byrrgis. There would be a subtle shifting of positions as they advanced. It was the seamless movements, their flawless communication that was the real force that drove their intricate strategies, whether it was for hunting, tracking, or simply traveling; Hoole found it fascinating. The wolves played out these designs through a series of silent signals that appeared as smooth as the orbits of planets or the transit of the stars across the sky. The wolves had a name for such strategies: They called them the Great Game.
    The night was growing darker. There would be no moon, and shortly the hagsfiends would begin to stir. But as each minute passed, Hoole felt himself grow more wolflike. He felt the dish shape of his face begin to extend into the night and could imagine the almost square muzzle of a wolf instead of a beak. His ear slits seemed to move toward the top of his head, and he could twitch them in one direction and then another to collect sounds. In his chest, he felt a bigger heart pumping loudly, and even his talons began to feel different. I am not a wolf, but I am a wolf, he thought. A winged wolf.
    They were now approaching the five boulders. They would hunker down behind them and then when the first hags began to stir, Hoole would give a signal and the Great Game would enter the next phase.
    They waited and waited. Finally, Hoole detected a change in the hags’ breathing. He dragged his talon across a rock’s surface. The scratching of the talon was the first signal, and the wolves leaped to their positions on the boulders. Led by Fengo, the howling began, a wild and untamed sound scrolling through the night. The hagsfiends were aghast. They staggered from their sleep and in a great confusion tried to rise and loft themselves into the air. But the night was now crisscrossed with a shimmering green light. Hoole could hear the hagsfiendsgiving commands to their half-hags in that peculiar language reserved only for speaking to the tiny poisonous creatures. Although