The Capture

was getting awfully good at this.

    "Oh, you are a bright little thing," Nursey hooted cheerfully. "You're catching on. Yes, flight is to be earned if one is destined for flight at all.

    "Yes, yes, of course," Soren said, trying desperately to keep the reasonable tone in his voice. But inside, his gizzard was twitching madly, his heart was beating rapidly, and a dark panic began to fill him.

    "Oh, and here comes 12-8. A fine example of a DNF."

    Soren stared at her with incomprehension.

    "DNF, dear. It means Destined Not to Fly. 12-8 is one. And a nursey in training, too!"

    Who was number 12-8? Soren sorted through all the numbers in his mind. The number sounded familiar and then Soren saw the little Spotted Owl named Hortense, who was so happy to receive her number designation because she hated her name. She was hopping about nearby

    "Come here, 12-8. Your first nursing lesson," Auntie trilled.

    Hortense, or number 12-8, had an even blanker look than ever in her eyes. "Ooh, a patient! A patient!
    Show me how to make moss pulp."

    Finny began to show the little owl how to beak the moss until it was soft and squishy. Soren had to admit he didn't mind the attention to his wings that indeed were feeling much better. He observed 12-8
    carefully as she applied the moss compresses. He wondered why she was not destined for flight. He carefully tried to figure out how to get the answer without asking a question. "I saw you, I think, in the pelletorium this morning."

    "Oh, no, no, not me! I'm strictly a broody."

    "A broody" Soren repeated. Only silence followed. "A broody," Soren repeated again. Still silence. "It must be nice to be a broody, to work in the broodorium." Soren just made up the word.

    "It's not called a broodorium." 12-8 spoke in the perfect hollow tones of the truly moon blinked.

    "Oh, it isn't," Soren said flatly. "Yes, how stupid of me. It's that other word. Slips my mind right now."

    "No, it doesn't slip your mind. You don't know. No one does." 12-8's voice had turned brittle. "Top secret."

    "Top secret."

    "Top secret. I've got clearance." The little owl swelled up now with pride.

    "Flight clearance."

    "Absolutely not! That is stupid. I couldn't have top secret clearance if I had flight clearance." But don't you want to fly? Soren was ready to scream the question. Just then, Finny returned.

    "Ah, 12-8, you are doing a splendid job. What a little nurse you'll make."

    "My wings do feel a lot better," Soren said sweetly, and marveled how deceptive he was quickly becoming. Oh, yes, his wings did feel better, but Soren had another idea, another question he wanted to throw out under the guise of a statement. "I'll tell you the thing that really always perks me up and makes me feel just fine in the gizzard."

    "Oh, that's what we want, my dear," Finny cooed.

    "A story. My favorite stories are the legends of Ga'Hoole. Yes, the Ga'Hoolian cycle, I think they are called."

    A strange sound halfway between a yarp and the screech of a Screech Owl issued from Auntie Finny's beak, and she crumpled into a dead faint.

    "Oh, my goodness! Oh, my goodness. I don't know what you said, 12-1, but I've got to nurse Nursey now." The little Spotted Owl trotted off to find a remedy.

    "I know what I said," Soren whispered to himself. "I said, 'the legends of Ga'Hoole.'"

CHAPTER TEN

    Right Side Up in an Upside-down World

    The next night, Gylfie ànd Soren met under the arch of the glaucidium. They were to begin the Great Scheme, but Soren suddenly had doubts.

    "I'm really worried, Gylfie. It might not work."

    "Soren," Gylfie pleaded, "who knows if it will work or not, but what have we got to lose if we don't try it?"

    "Our minds, to start with," Soren replied. Gylfie gave the soft churn sound of a chuckle that is nearly universal for all owls.

    There was a swoosh in the air and suddenly the little Elf Owl was flat on her back. "There is no laughing.
    Laughter may only be practiced under the direction of Lieutenant Spoorn. Don't do it again. Next time you shall be reported immediately, and I shall anticipate eagerly your first lesson in correct laughter."

    The monitor then moved away. Soren and Gylfie looked at each other wordlessly. This had to be the strangest place imaginable. They taught one how to sleep! Lessons in laughter! Laughter therapy! Soren wondered what possibly could be the purpose of a place like St. Aggie's. What were they really learning to do here and why? What were the flecks, more