Lost Tales of Ga'Hoole

Thea had gadfeather roots, Rodmilla came from an old and distinguished N’yrthghar clan; where Thea had been a fierce fighter with the Kielian League, the losers in the war, Rodmilla barely seemed to care about the war; where Thea spent night after night away from their hollow discussing war strategies with other fighters, Rodmilla was home plumping nests, studying her own illustrious ancestry, or doting on Berrick, whenever he was there. Berrick must have thought that he had found the perfect new mother for his owlets.
    He may have been half right , Thora thought ruefully. Rodmilla immediately took to Brunwella. It was hard not to—Brunwella was a beautiful little owlet, the prettier of the two sisters even at a very young age. She was affectionate and agreeable. On top of it all, Brunwella had inherited the classic Plonk singing voice, with the promise of becoming the best singer of her generation. Thora, on the other wing, was no great beauty. True, she had lovely eyes and a quick wit, but she had suffered from a bad case of gray scale as an owlet and it had left her feathers dull and blotchy. She was also strong-willed and outspoken. When Rodmilla first moved into the hollow, she insisted that the sisters call her “Mother.” Brunwella had no trouble with this. After all, Rodmilla was the only mother she had ever known. But Thora resisted emphatically, muttering under her breath, “ That owl is not my mum.” Rodmilla took this as a cue to be extra strict with the older sister.
    The more Rodmilla tried to assert her authority, the more Thora resisted. Rodmilla’s strictness verged on cruelty. She ignored Thora unless it was to tell her to do chores. When food was scarce in the depth of winter, and Berrick was away, Rodmilla fed Thora scraps and leftovers. Worst of all, Rodmilla openly called Thora “Splotch” because of the patchy coloration left by the gray scale.
    Thora felt like an outcast in her own home, and she couldn’t stand it. As soon as she summoned enough courage, she fled the hollow, bidding Brunwella a tearful farewell. For almost a year Thora flew about the Northern Kingdoms without a nest to call her own. Then she met a Kielian snake named Octavia, who told her about blacksmithing. One thing led to another, and Octavia introduced Thora to a Rogue smith on the island of Dark Fowl. His skill was legendary, and Thora became his apprentice.
    Thora had a real talent for blacksmithing, learning quickly and easily. After a few short moon cycles, she began to forge battle claws—a task usually reserved for experienced smiths. Even though Dark Fowl was a desolate place constantly lashed by gales and ice storms, it felt more comfortable to Thora than her hollow in the Firth of Canis after Rodmilla moved in. And she suspected that her da knew where she had ended up. She was certain she spotted him more than once on Dark Fowl, watching over her from a distance, making sure she was all right. Despite missing him and her sister, she felt she belonged on Dark Fowl and had found her life’s work in blacksmithing.
    But Thora’s happiness was short-lived. Her work as an apprentice took her all over Dark Fowl, and she’d learned that the grog trees, where Rogue smiths often gathered, were wonderful places to learn of the newest smithing techniques as the tipsy Rogue smiths boasted to one another. Then one day, she overheard a dark rumor concerning her own family. So alarming was this rumor that Thora feared for the safety of her da and sister back home. If it was true, then Berrick and Brunwella were in danger. Worry ate at Thora’s gizzard. She had little choice—she had to go home to find out the truth. So, Thora made the difficult return to the home she hated.
    Thora had braced her gizzard for a long stay. If the rumor proved false, then merely bringing it up would be hurtful to her family. And if it was true, she’d have to be careful—very careful. She had returned three moon cycles ago, and was still biding her time. Since her return, she had tried to act the remorseful runaway ready to become the dutiful daughter. She tried her best to make peace with Rodmilla, and it seemed that Rodmilla was doing the same. Even so, Thora was uncomfortable around her stepmother; she couldn’t help it. But at least she was able to see her da and Brunie again. She had missed them terribly while she was away.
    It was almost dawn. As she banked toward home, Thora thought about how excited Brunwella would be to