Lost Tales of Ga'Hoole

been polished to a mirror finish near the dye basin. It was no surprise that such a mirror would be found here. The kraals were infamous for their vanity, and kraals who just finished dying their feathers would want to take a good long look at the result. Fritha noted that the two shades of green were eye-poppingly bright—lurid, garish, and downright ostentatious. In other words, perfect. She knew that these particular shades were created using something called tundra nuggets mixed with the sap of pine trees and the oil from pine nuts. Other colors like reds and purples were made with various berries and flowers. If only the kraals put their dye-making knowledge to better use. She used similar dye- and paint-making techniques at the great tree, but she never used those dyes on her feathers; they were only used for illustrations in books. She took another long look at herself. Yes, she looked sufficiently kraal-like, she decided.
    Fritha headed east, deeper into kraal territory. As she neared her destination, she spotted another dye basin off her port wing. This one was pink and violet. She made a quick circle over it. As much as she admonished the kraals’ vanity, she did always like that shade of pink. There was no time to stop today to add another color to her already painted feathers. Fritha flew on. She knew she was but a few wing beats from her destination.
    Though they were well hidden from view, the ground nests in which owls in this region lived were easy to spot for an owl who knew where to look. Fritha found the bulges of the nests in between and underneath the boulders that sat on the vast spongy surface. The mosses, lichens, and low shrublike plants that lived in the tundra made these nests quite comfortable.
    Now, where was that nest? The boulders were hard to tell apart. As Fritha scanned the rock formations below, she saw an owl poke its head out from between two boulders. She guessed that it was a Long-eared Owl, but it was so elaborately painted in at least five different colors that it could have just as easily been a Striped Owl for all she knew. The Long-eared Owl eyed Fritha suspiciously, but then pulled back into its nest. Was that a hint of recognition Fritha saw in its eyes? No matter , Fritha thought, you’re not the kraal I’m looking for.
    Then, right beside an especially round boulder, another kraal emerged from his nest. There were very few Pygmy Owl kraals, and he was one of them. And he was the very pirate that Fritha sought.
    Fritha landed on the round boulder, right in front of the kraal. She looked at him with wide eyes. He had dyed most of his feathers a royal blue, but at the very tips of his wings, there was a hint of pink.
    “Well, look who has come to the Pirates’ Lair,” the Pygmy Owl said. The kraal extended his wings out to the side as if in flight. To Fritha’s utter delight, the entire undersides of his wings were dyed her favorite shade of pink.
    “Oh, Da, I’m so glad to see you!” Fritha exclaimed in her first language—a dialect of Krakish. She hopped toward her father and laid her head on his chest. “And you remembered my favorite color!”
    “Of course, my love,” Flinn greeted his daughter with joy in his voice. “I’m happy to see you, too! You are looking very fetching in green.”
    “I wouldn’t think of arriving plain-feathered,” Fritha said. “How did you know I was coming?”
    “Oh, call it a father’s gizzuition,” he answered. “Now, come in. You must be famished. I’ve got a nice fresh lemming for you.”
    “A lemming would be splendid,” Fritha replied happily. She was quite hungry, but had not realized it in her excitement to see her da. “I have so much to tell you, Da! I’ve been having the best time at the great tree. You wouldn’t believe all the things I’ve learned to do!” The long trip was already worthwhile.
    The two Pygmy Owls, father and daughter, disappeared into the ground nest, chatting excitedly.
    Fritha was happy to be with her da. She would have liked to visit with her da for a full moon cycle, but she dared not be away from the tree so long. She would be missing too many chaw practices—the idea of missing even one chaw practice pained her; she couldn’t imagine missing more. It had been almost a year since Fritha last visited her da in the Pirates’ Lair. She would fit as much into her short visit as she possibly could, and the two talked into the dawn almost every night.
    Still, she couldn’t