Guardians of Ga'Hoole 05 - The Shattering

seagulls, gannets, shearwaters, and cormorants, he knew their ways and they respected him and, more important, trusted him as they did no other land bird. So the gannets were scouting the Pure Ones for Ezylryb.
    Suddenly, the striking white wings tipped in black cut through the night.
    “There he is!” said Soren. Oh, maybe—just maybe—he’s seen Eglantine. No blood, no signs of violence, Soren kept repeating to himself what Gylfie had told him. He blinked and gripped with his talons the stone edge on which he was perched. Gannets were huge. This one’s wingspan, Soren guessed, was four—no, maybe five feet across. The bird glided onto the stone cliff with barely a wing flap.
    Gannets are formal birds with many odd customs thatinvolve the bowing and bobbing of their heads, the touching of their beaks in light clashes like swords crossing. With great deference this gannet stepped toward Ezylryb and extended his beak. Ezylryb did likewise, but because his beak was so much shorter, he had to take several steps forward. There was the click of the beaks clashing. This was the signal that conversation could begin.
    “What have you to report, sir?” Ezylryb asked.
    “Honorable Ezylryb of the Great North Waters and Stormfast Island. It is with great displeasure that I must bring you this news.” The gannet’s voice was a deep guttural croak.
    “Go on,” rasped Ezylryb.
    “There is not one but two squadrons and an incoming platoon of Pure Ones.”
    “A platoon!” several of the owls said in stunned voices. A platoon was composed of at least four squadrons. They would be vastly outnumbered.
    The gannet continued, “They are heading for the forest fire that still burns in the eastern regions of The Beaks.”
    “That seems odd. They aren’t good in fire. Can’t fight with fire. Why are they going there?”
    “They are chasing two rather young owls—a Pygmy and a Barn Owl.”
    “Eglantine and Primrose!” Soren blurted out.
    The gannet swung his head toward Soren and glared. “And,” he continued, “the young owls were leading them there.”
    Now Barran spoke. “Tell me, sir. Do you think you were spotted?”
    “Oh, most certainly. It is hard for white wings of my breadth to go unnoticed. As I am sure you must understand, being a Snowy yourself. But it is common for gannets to fly inland when there are forest fires near lakes. The flame glare on the lake makes fishing rather easy for us, and we do enjoy an occasional spot of lake fish. So I made sure to make a few feints at the lake to sustain the guise of casual fishing.”
    “Very smart.” Ezylryb nodded and paused. Soren could tell that Ezylryb was thinking very hard because he had blinked his eyes shut and kept them that way for several seconds. Then he opened his eyes. The one held in the perpetual squint looked as it always did, completely unreadable and scary. The other eye had a gleam in it. “Thank you, sir, for your excellent reconnaissance.” He paused again, and then added, almost as an afterthought, “And thank you for your use of the word ‘feint.’” Even the gannet looked puzzled by this.
    Soren and Gylfie exchanged glances. Why in the world was Ezylryb thanking the gannet for a word?
    “Always at your service, Honorable Ezylryb.”
    And then an equally elaborate sequence of bows and accompanying gestures commenced as the gannet took his leave. Soren watched him slide gracefully through the black night until the gleaming white wings were just slivers in the darkness.
    “A squadron and a platoon,” Barran said tensely. What was left unspoken was that they were up against an enemy that outnumbered them, and there was no Strix Struma to lead her Strikers into battle. Of course, they had originally thought that they were merely coming on a search-and-rescue mission, and since the fires had been spotted, the colliering chaw had decided to fly that night. In all, they had the search-and-rescue chaw, the tracking chaw, which always accompanied search-and-rescue, the colliering chaw, and then, of course, embedded within this assemblage of chaws was the Chaw of Chaws, composed of Soren, Gylfie, Twilight, Ruby, Martin, Digger, and Otulissa. Each was a member of other chaws, but their uncanny ability to work together made them a fearsome fighting force.
    “Yes, indeed, a squadron and a platoon,” Ezylryb said crisply. “We are outnumbered, but we are not outwitted.” All of the owls seemed to perch a little straighter; their