Guardians of Ga'Hoole 13 - The River of Wind

told.”
    Told. The word rang in Mrs. Plithiver’s head. She had begun experiencing odd sensations about this owl as soon as they had entered the hollow. She sensed that there was a kind of sad mist hovering in this owl’s gizzard, a sense of loss, perhaps of grief.
    “Tell me, sir…,” Mrs. Plithiver asked, “and I hope it is not too intrusive of me to ask such a question…”
    “If it is, I shall not answer,” the sage replied simply.
    “Does all of your knowledge of our world come from your study of the Theo Papers, or did you ever visit it?”
    “Oh, no. I never visited it.” His voice began to quake a bit. He paused. “But someone very close to me did—my mother.”
    “Your mother?” Coryn asked.
    “Yes, but that was long, long ago. Let’s see, I think it was not that long after the time of King Hoole.”
    “King Hoole!” they all exclaimed.
    “B-b-b-but…sir,” Gylfie stammered, “that is impossible. That would have been hundreds of years ago. Surely your mother was not alive back then?”
    “Oh, but you don’t understand. We live a very long time here. I am—let’s see—about three hundred andtwenty-five years old. At the owlery, they live close to four hundred years. I believe there is a pikyu who is four hundred and twenty. The dragon owls of the mock court in the Panqua Palace don’t usually live as long. It depends.”
    “Dragon owls?” They gasped.
    “Pikyu?” Coryn asked.
    “Yes, pikyu is what we call our spiritual teachers. It really means ‘guide.’ Pikyus have, through long study and meditation, achieved deep wisdom. The word means just that—deep wisdom. You will see that within the pale yellow light of the pikyus’ eyes, there are glints of green. Such is the sign of deep wisdom.”
    Four-hundred-year-old owls…? Panqua Palace…dragon owls…? Soren wondered. Where in the world are we?

CHAPTER TWELVE
The Hagbogey
    N ow, there you go, dear! Back with Mum and Da!” Eglantine said as she dropped the little Barn Owl into her family’s hollow in the spruce tree in the forest of Ambala. The owlet shreed with delight. The mother was hysterical, and the father gruff but obviously relieved. For several nights, Eglantine and Primrose had scoured every wind track left by the westers that had marched across a great swath of the kingdoms. The main track appeared to run straight out of Silverveil, sweeping through The Barrens and into Ambala. But so far they had found not a trace of Bell. Nothing really, except this little Barn Owl who had fallen to the ground because she had tried to fly too soon, before even a single one of her flight feathers had budged.
    “Now, you ain’t going to try that again are you, Eva? No more flying until you’re ready. You’re a Barn Owl. Not an Elf Owl, after all. Takes us sixty-six nights to fledge our flight feathers,” the father stated a bit sternly.
    “Oh, we were so worried.” The mother was still sobbing. She lowered her voice and blinked. “What with the rumors and all.”
    “Rumors? What kind of rumors?” Primrose asked.
    “Nyra is back,” she whispered, “and several snatchings and even egg-nappings have been reported.”
    Primrose and Eglantine exchanged nervous glances. No, it simply could not be true. There had been no sign of the Pure Ones in a long while. But this news made finding Bell even more urgent than before.
    Eglantine and Primrose had been so excited when they had first spotted the distinctive yarped pellet of a young Barn Owl. They were sure it was Bell, and although they were happy to rescue this little owlet, Eva, they had to admit their disappointment that she was not Bell. Just another owl chick who had disobeyed the single most important rule for nestlings: Never fly before you are ready and never fly when your parents are out hunting. They bid the parents and the little chick good-bye.
    “And where will you go from here?” the father asked.
    “Well,” Primrose said, “we’re looking for a little owl who could fly, but perhaps not strongly enough. She got lost or blown down when those westers came through.”
    “Oh, those westers came through Ambala, all right.Although they weakened some, I’m sure, as they approached the Desert of Kuneer.”
    “Yes, well,” Eglantine said, “I think we have to go at least that far.”
    “Good luck to you both and thanks ever so much,” the father said. Then the mother added, “Ever so much.”
    “Thank you,” Eva said in a tiny voice.