The Capture

You shall receive your number designation. And you shall also receive your first lesson in the proper manner in which to sleep and shall be inducted
    into the march of sleep. These are the first steps toward the Specialness ceremony."

    What in the world was this owl talking about? Soren wondered. Number designation? What was a glaucidium, and since when did an owl have to be taught to sleep? And a sleep march? What was that?
    And it was still night. What owl slept at night? But before he could really ponder these questions, he felt himself being gently shoved into a line, a separate line from the little Elf Owl called Gylfie. He turned his head nearly completely around to search for Gylfie and caught sight of her. He raised a stubby wing to wave but Gylfie did not see him. He saw her marching ahead with her eyes looking straight forward.

    The line Soren was in wound its way through a series of deep gorges. It was like a stone maze of tangled trails through the gaps and canyons and notches of this place called St. Aegolius Academy for Orphaned Owls. Soren had the unsettling feeling that he might never see the little Elf Owl again, and even worse, it would be impossible to ever find one's way out of these stone boxes into the forest world of Tyto, with its immense trees and sparkling streams.

    They finally came to stop in a circular stone pit. A white owl with very thick feathers waddled toward them and blinked. Her eyes had a soft yellow glow.

    "I am Finny, your pit guardian." And then she giggled softly. "Some have been known to call me their pit angel." She gazed sweetly at them. "I would love it if you would all call me Auntie."

    Auntie? Soren wondered. Why would I ever call her Auntie? But he remembered not to ask.

    "I must, of course, call you by your number designation, which you shall shortly be told," said Finny.

    "Oh, goody!" A little Spotted Owl standing next to Soren hopped up and down.

    This time, Soren remembered too late that questions were discouraged. "Why do you want a number instead of your name?"

    "Hortense! You wouldn't like that name, either," the Spotted Owl whispered. "Now, shush. Remember, no questions."

    "You shall, of course," Finny continued, "if you are good humble owlets and learn the lessons of humility and obedience, earn your Specialness rank and then receive your true name."

    But my true name is Soren. It is the name my parents gave me. The words pounded in Soren's head and even his gizzard seemed to tremble in protest.

    "Now, let's line up for our Number ceremony, and I have a tempting little snack here for you."

    There were perhaps twenty owls in Soren's group and Soren was toward the middle of the line. He watched as the white owl, Auntie or Finny, whom Hortense had informed him was a Snowy Owl, dropped a piece of fur- stripped mouse meat on the stone before each owl in turn and then said, "Why, you're number 12-6. What a nice number that is, dearie."

    Every number was either "nice," or "dear," or "darling." Finny bent her head solicitously and often gave a friendly little pat to the owlet just "numbered." She was full of quips and little jokes. Soren was just beginning to feel that things perhaps could be worse, and he hoped that Gylfie had such a nice owl for a pit guardian, when the huge fierce owl with the tufts over each eye, the very one who had snatched him and called him stupid, alighted down next to Finny. Soren felt a cold dread steal over his gizzard as he saw the owl look directly at him and then dip his head and whisper something into Finny's ear. Finny nodded and looked at him blandly. They were talking about him. Soren was sure. He could barely move his talons forward on the hard stone toward Finny. His turn was coming up soon. Only four more owls before he would be "numbered."

    "Hello, sweetness," Finny cooed as Soren stepped forward. "I have a very special number for you!"
    Soren was
    silent. Finny continued, "Don't you want to know what it is?" This is a trick. Questions are discouraged.
    I'm not supposed to ask. And that was exactly what Soren said.

    "I'm not supposed to ask." The soft yellow glow streamed from Finny's eyes. Soren felt a moment's confusion. Then Finny leaned forward and whispered to him. "You know, dear, I'm not as strict as some.
    So please, if you really really need to ask a question, just go ahead. But remember to keep your voice down. And here, dear, is a little extra piece of mouse. And your number ..." She sighed and her