Guardians of Ga'Hoole 06 - The Burning

was pitted against another. We must remain vigilant so that this evil does not rise again.
    “Our ideals are simple: honor and freedom. We must be sure that these words are never distorted from their true meaning. To do this shall require constant watchfulness. The war is over but we must not rest. I would be remiss if I still did not cry out: Whenever tyranny threatens, fly forward; unflinching, unswerving, indomitable, until peace is restored and all the kingdoms of owlkind are safe.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Scrooms in the Night
    D eep in the canyonlands where the vultures still stalked the dead, in a hollow in the cleft of a scorched rocky cliff, a mother owl wept as her first chick hatched out of its shell just as the moon began to reappear. “You came at the time of the eclipse, little one. So I shall call you the name of all male chicks hatched at such a time. Nyroc is your name, my hatchling. You shall grow up to be strong and fierce like your father.” The little chick opened one puffy eye and blinked at the beautiful moon-face of his mum.
    Far across the sea of Hoolemere, on the Island of Hoole, the same moon shone. It was the last night of the copper-rose rain, just before the time of the white rain, when the Ga’Hoole berry vines turn white. Gylfie and Soren had decided to fly to a very high perch on the far side of the Island of Hoole. For tonight was the night of the lunar eclipse, and it was said that the lunar eclipse thatfell on the the last night of autumn was always the most beautiful eclipse of all.
    Just as the shadow of the earth began to steal over the edge of the moon, the two old friends arrived at the perch high in a fir tree. It was the only fir tree on the Island of Hoole and similar to the one Soren had lived in so briefly with his mum and da. It had been Gylfie’s idea to come to this tree to watch the eclipse away from the other owls. She knew that in his very private way, Soren was still deeply disturbed by his brother’s death. Over and over they had told him that there had been no choice, that Kludd had to be destroyed. But Gylfie realized that no amount of assurance from Digger, Twilight, and herself could ease his mind. She could tell that Soren was still suffering in some way. He had been incredibly quiet. Gylfie knew that Mrs. Plithiver had come to the hollow several times and tried to talk to Soren but he had been unresponsive. Finally, Gylfie had decided that it might help Soren to be away from the great tree on this particular night.
    More than once he had said to Gylfie, and only to Gylfie, “I think Mum and Da would understand about Kludd. Don’t you, Gylf?” And she would always answer, “Yes.” He was asking her again when they heard a rustle from behind, and Eglantine lighted down on the branch next to them.
    “Eglantine, what are you doing here?” Soren asked, somewhat surprised.
    “Same thing you are. Here to see the eclipse.”
    Soren felt a little bad that he had not invited his sister to come along. But he had been so distracted in the two days since his return.
    “Oh, look,” Eglantine said, “it’s taking its first bite out of the moon.”
    Slowly and silently, they watched the earth’s shadow steal across the moon. It was especially splendid. The moon shimmered gold. It was as if some of the sun’s gold had been borrowed briefly to make the moon glow even more before it became completely dark. Then, just as the moon vanished, Soren noticed something wispy in the night. Perhaps it was some mist swirling up from the ground fog below.
    “Is it snowing?” Eglantine asked.
    Soren turned to her and blinked. “I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”
    Eglantine blinked rapidly several times and, leaning out from her perch, peered into the night. “I see something,” she said.
    “I don’t see anything,” Gylfie said. “Look up, you two. The shadow is sliding away. You can just begin to see the moon’s edge again.”
    But Soren and Eglantine were not looking up. They were looking straight out at what Eglantine had first thought was snow, and Soren thought was fog. It was pulling together into a vaguely familiar mass. It looked soft and puffy like the best down that a mum picks from her breast for a newly hatched chick.
    I’m not going to be scared, thought Eglantine, and she felt a strange calm spread through her.
    Of course you’re not, dear.
    How had that happened? Eglantine wondered. I heard a voice but there was no sound.
    They’ve come,