The Capture

Hortense stuck her beak into the nest and pulled out a lovely brown-and- white Spotted Owl feather.

    "Is that from a molt?" Soren asked. He had molted when he had shed his first down. There had been a First Molting ceremony, and his mother had saved those baby feathers in a special place.

    "No, not a molt. I pull them out myself."

    "You pluck yourself?!" Soren and Gylfie gasped in horror.

    "Well," she laughed, and the churr sound of a Spotted Owl's laughter was indeed a lovely sound that no moon- blinked owl could ever make. "I am," she said with a twinkle in her eye, "a DNF."

    "Destined Not to Fly." Soren said the words softly.

    ' Yes, because of my top secret work, but also because of my delayed feather development. So I was a natural."

    "A natural for what?" Gylfie asked.

    To come here. To find out what was going on. You see,
    in the Forest of Ambala, our losses due to St. Aggie's patrols had become increasingly heavy. We had been losing baby owlets and eggs at an astonishing rate. Something had to be done. And this, of course, meant sacrifices. One of our bravest owls had followed a St. Aggie's patrol and discovered this maze of stone canyons in which they lived. That particular owl, Cedric, had sacrificed an egg from his and his mate's nest just so he could follow them.

    "I volunteered for service as well. I figured that I probably wouldn't have much of a normal life, what with my delayed feather development, and then when my feathers finally did come in, they just didn't seem to work that well. No power, no lift, shaky drag capabilities. I could hardly manage anything but the shortest of flights. Who would have me as a mate? What kind of mother would I make, not being able to hunt or teach my babies to fly? How should I put it? I was bound to be one of those odd single owls, always dependent on relatives' charity, given the wormy, maggoty, down-the-trunk hollow. I hated the idea of being the pathetic dependent owl, the one the owlets were always forced to visit. I decided that it was contrary to my nature to lead such a life and that if I could not live like a normal owl, I would, in fact, use my disability for some noble purpose. Thus, I chose to go to St. Aggie's and do whatever I could to stop them in their horrible quest
    for power and control of the kingdoms of owls. For that is what they want to do. You realize this, don't you?"

    Soren and Gylfie nodded numbly.

    "The eggs are part of it. I do what I can here. Since my arrival I have saved more than twenty eggs. The owls of Ambala work with the big bald eagles. It's safest that way. Eagles can get closest to this place most freely. Rock crevices are the natural nesting places for many eagles. So they know the territory.
    The eagle is the one bird that really strikes fear into the gizzard of these owls. That scar on Skench's wing
    -- that was the talon work of an eagle."

    "But how did you get here if you can't fly long distances?" Soren asked.

    "HALO," Hortense replied.

    "HALO?" Gylfie and Soren both said at once.

    "High Altitude Low Opening situation. You see, you wait for a day with thick cloud cover. I had plucked myself to owlet status." Soren winced. "Two big Snowies who blended in perfectly with the cloud cover flew me to the boulders just before the entrance of the canyons of St. Aggie's. There is a grove of trees there with a lot of moss under them. It's where the moss that is used in these nests comes from. No owls live there anymore but that is where they dropped me on that cloudy day."

    "You say you've saved twenty eggs?"

    "Yes, indeed. And back in Ambala they now tell stories of me. I, who had no stories, am now the hero of stories," Hortense said with no pretense of humility.

    "But Hortense," Soren said, "there must be more to your life than this. You cannot remain here forever."

    "The eagles promise to come and get me. But I always say, 'oh, just another dozen more or so.' I have become rather addicted to what I am doing."

    "But there are risks," Gylfie said.

    "Anything worth doing has risks." Hortense paused. "And believe me, this is worth doing."

    "We want to get out of here. Won't you come with us?" Soren said.

    "How can I? I can't fly. Nor can you, for that matter."

    "But we're going to learn," Soren said fiercely.

    "Good," Hortense replied softly, and there was a quaver in her voice that gave both Soren and Gylfie a very creepy feeling. Then, realizing that perhaps she had frightened them, Hortense spoke