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Guardians of Ga'Hoole 07 - The Hatchling

Guardians of Ga'Hoole 07 - The Hatchling

Titel: Guardians of Ga'Hoole 07 - The Hatchling Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
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his gizzard grow still. I am going yeep! he thought, and the Masked Owl began to plummet. But then something happened. His gizzard seemed to explode with sudden fury. He pulled out of his plunging spiral and flew downwind. He twisted his head to see how far behind they were.Not far enough! The odds weren’t good—three crows to one owl. But he was a better flier than any crow. He forgot his tired wings. He felt a new energy flow through him.
    He was flying heavy with his kit. Why not let it drop? But then he would lose the coals, the really choice ones the Rogue smith of Silverveil had given him. He had another idea. There was not much time and the maneuver would take some doing, but if soldier owls could fight with battle claws and flaming branches, why couldn’t he fight with the tools of his trade?
    He spotted a ledge ahead. He quickly landed on the ledge, set down his precious bucket of coals, and took out his hammer and tongs. The three crows were almost on him when he flew into them straight from the ledge, swinging his hammer and wielding the tongs, which held a hot coal. He poked one of the crows in the primaries of its left wing. The bird cawed and the smell of fried feathers whirled through the air. But the other two were still coming after him. He felt something hit him in his tail feathers. He began to wobble. With his tail damaged he could hardly keep his flight steady. This was bad. Drops of blood splattered the dawn. Was it his blood? No time to worry.
    He wheeled around still swinging his hammer in one talon and gripping the tongs with the hot burning coal in the other. The crow with the singed wing was back. Impossible! There was a sudden downdraft that sucked all four birds into a trough of still air. Just beneath him was the black back of a crow. It glistened like a polished anvil. With all his might he struck that feathered anvil with his hammer. The crow broke in half like a dried twig. The other two let out terrible caws that ripped the stillness of the dawn.
    Then as fast as they had come, they were gone. Gwyndor was exhausted. He felt himself losing altitude. I have to go on. I have to go on. I must get to Nyroc before it’s too late.
    And the dawn bled into day, and the day became the night, and the night was thick with shadows and dreams. The crows became hagsfiends like dark vapors flying through the night. Gwyndor moaned in pain and fear.

CHAPTER EIGHT
Facts of Life and Death
    D o you know what scrooms are, my little hatchling?” Nyra asked her son.
    “Sort of. But, Mum, I am an expert flier now and I have killed my first prey. Do you have to keep calling me a hatchling? I’ve been through my First Flight ceremony.”
    “Well, yes, that’s true. But we still have Tupsi, the Special ceremony. And after that, I shall truly no longer be able to get away with calling you ‘hatchling.’” She churred softly. “Nor even owlet. For you shall be a soldier after the Special ceremony that we call Tupsi.”
    “Tupsi, I like the sound of that,” Nyroc said.
    “It stands for Tytonic Union of Pure Ones Special Initiation.”
    “But what is the special initiation? I wish I knew more about it. What am I supposed to do?”
    “Tonight I shall tell you more about it. And more about your history, and about scrooms, too.”
    And so she began.
    “A scroom, my dear, is a spirit that cannot rest until its work on Earth is finished.” Nyra blinked. Her dark eyes as polished as river stones seemed to look into another place, another time, another night. There was something spooky about his mum, Nyroc suddenly realized. For the first time he was afraid of her in a new way—not because he had done something less than perfectly or asked a question that he should not have asked. This was different. She seemed to have gone into some sort of a trance. She began to speak in a scratchy singsong voice.

There were three scrooms who came to me
    And said Nyroc shall be king
    And with this Special ceremony
    His glory shall long and loudly ring.

    Nyroc’s eyes brightened. “You mean, Mum, that I am really to be king, supreme commander like my great father?”
    “You will. Once you have completed the Special ceremony.”
    “But what is it?”
    “The Special ceremony is a sacrifice of sorts. But it is also more. It is a courageous act—a blood act.”
    “A blood act? Sacrifice?”
    “Sacrifice is giving up something that is difficult to give up. Something you care for.”
    “I get it! It’s like

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