Lost Tales of Ga'Hoole

we’ll bring that little brat back to General Mam. It might be just what I need to be promoted to lieutenant.”
    Such a thing will never happen , thought Uglamore. Not only would he do everything in his power to make sure that the “little brat” was left alone, but he also knew that the Pure Ones would never promote a Masked Owl to the rank of lieutenant.
    “I think you’ll find the best hunting on the other side of the pond,” Uglamore suggested as Vaygar began to poke around the root of the fallen tree.
    “Oh, no time for a proper hunt, Lieutenant. You heard Commander Stryker. I’ll just catch a quick little snack.”
    “I think I saw a chipmunk just over there.” Uglamore gestured toward a tree higher up on the bank. He saw that Vaygar was poking his head into this hole and that, getting dangerously close to the hollow where Nyroc was still sleeping.
    “Nah, these little bugs will do,” Vaygar insisted as he plucked juicy little insects from the rotting wood.
    Just then, there was the faintest rustle from the hollow halfway up the fallen tree.
    “What have we here?” Vaygar asked.
    Uglamore knew it was Nyroc. He must have shaken his feathers as he slept—something that owls, and indeed many birds do, as they drift from deep to shallow sleep. He had to get rid of this nosy owl, fast.
    “Had enough to eat, haven’t you?” he asked. “I think you better try to catch up to Commander Stryker. You wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”
    “I wouldn’t…”
    But even as Vaygar said it, he peeked into the hollow where Nyroc was sleeping. And just as Uglamore had done, he jumped back.
    “By Glaux! It’s the hatchling!”
    Still asleep, Nyroc had turned his head toward the opening of the hollow. There could be no mistake—the slash across his face made it clear that he was Nyra’s son.
    “Shh. Don’t wake him,” was all Uglamore said. He had a feeling in his gizzard that this was going to end badly. Just moments ago, he had been unsure whether or not to return to the Pure Ones in the canyonlands. Now, his choice was clear. He could not—would not—go back to his old life. And more important, he would not let the Pure Ones capture the young’un.
    “You knew he was here all along, didn’t you? I have to tell Commander Stryker!” Vaygar exclaimed.
    Uglamore said nothing. He knew what he had to do. The old Barn Owl had nothing against the young soldier who was only trying to be loyal, only trying to please Stryker and Nyra in a futile attempt to climb the ranks within the Pure Ones. Uglamore’s next act should have come easily to him; he had done it enough times in his service to the Tytonic Union. But this time, he felt more than a twinge of guilt, for this time, it was his will, not that of his commander. But what could he do—this was the only way he could save Nyroc. Vaygar never saw it coming. With one swift motion, Uglamore’s talon ripped through his neck. The Masked Owl died instantly.
    In that moment, Uglamore knew that his days as a member of the Tytonic Union of Pure Ones were over. His place was most definitely not at the side of Nyra as one of her colonels. But his place was not with the hatching, either.
    When Nyroc awoke the next evening, he saw no sign of any owl having been there. The world was white, having been covered in a thick blanket of snow. The snow concealed the blood that belonged to a soldier of the Pure Ones. It also concealed the tracks of his protector.
    As he bided his time in Beyond the Beyond, Uglamore thought often of the last time he saw the hatchling in the hollow of that fallen tree. How helpless he had seemed, how vulnerable. It was only a few moon cycles ago, but it seemed like an eternity.
    He never thought he would see Nyroc again, but there he was. He had spotted him that day at the carcass of the moose.
    He avoided being seen by the young’un, but he heard much about his exploits by loitering at the edge of the gnaw wolves’ circles. He learned that Nyroc had changed his name to Coryn. He learned that a Spotted Owl from the legendary Great Ga’Hoole Tree was tutoring him in the strange art of catching coals on the fly from the furious volcanoes of the Beyond. His weary heart rejoiced that the little owlet he had cared for in his last days as a Pure One had shaken free from that dark dominion.
    One day, he saw him again. As Uglamore perched on an ice shelf in the Beyond, he watched the young Barn Owl once known as Nyroc circle the volcanoes.