Guardians of Ga'Hoole 07 - The Hatchling

The luminous shape rose until Nyroc realized that hovering before him in midair was the Spotted Owl he had read in the flames and whose voice had guided him to this strange place. She was composed entirely of light. He felt himself float down from where he had been flying and perch on some invisible branch in the ghostly woods.
    What is this place? he asked.
    A spirit wood, came the answer. Once again, the voices, his own and that of the scroom, could not be heard aloudbut remained sealed in his head. Nyroc felt a dim tweak of fear pulse through his gizzard. It is a scroom!
    But not like the one who has haunted you. This is a spirit wood and a spirit wood will not harbor evil scrooms. It is the only place the evil ones cannot enter.
    But why are you here? Why am I here? Nyroc asked.
    We must wait.
    Wait for whom? Nyroc silently asked.
    I think you know.
    I do?
    Think, Nyroc, think.
    Otulissa?
    The scroom nodded. You saw her in the flames, didn’t you? She will help you complete your journey.
    But what is my journey?
    I cannot tell you that. You must find that out for yourself.
    But what am I to do? And if I must find it out for myself, why should Otulissa come here?
    To and from, the Spotted Owl said cryptically, and her spots twinkled with such intensity that Nyroc had to blink. It was as if he were looking directly into the sun.
    To and from? he asked. But the scroom did not reply. But what am I to do?
    The scroom took a long time before she answered. You know what you must do. I was hoping that she would come here to help guide you. But she is a stubborn one. Her head often gets in the way of her gizzard. She cannot believe what she cannot see or prove.
    But what of the dire wolves? Nyroc was surprised by his own words.
    Yes, exactly. So, you know about them. You saw them in the flames, didn’t you? the scroom asked, and Nyroc nodded. He hadn’t realized until this moment that those loping creatures with the slanting green eyes he had seen in the flames were actually dire wolves.
    She doesn’t believe in them or in dreams or in scrooms.
    Nyroc knew she was speaking of the owl named Otulissa.
    But you know scrooms exist, don’t you, young’un?
    Nyroc nodded. This has something to do with the Ember, the Ember of Hoole, doesn’t it? And something I must do.
    But the glowing scroom of Strix Struma had begun to fade. The spots twinkling just seconds before seemed to blur. Watch for her, Nyroc, the scroom said. Watch for Otulissa.
    Now a fog bank rolled in from the Sea of Hoolemere and enfolded the luminous shape into its thick roiling vapors. She was gone. Nyroc felt something slide together within the deepest part of his gizzard. There was a soft jolt as one part of his being rejoined the other. He peereddown. The toes of his talons were wrapped firmly around the white limb of a tree.
    He looked to where the fog bank had rolled back out to sea. Did he hear a thin voice whispering to him, “ Glauxspeed, young’un” ?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Dire Wolves
    I t was midafternoon at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree when Otulissa entered the library. The entire tree was sound asleep. She picked this time to do her research because she didn’t want anyone sticking their beaks into her business. But she aimed to find out all she could about dire wolves. Were they just the stuff of legends or had they ever truly existed? It seemed strange to her that books on both legends and science were next to one another on the shelves. She didn’t quite approve. In Otulissa’s well-organized mind, the two were entirely separate divisions of knowledge. One had nothing to do with the other. One could be proven through experimentation; the other could not. Yet both were valuable for exercises in the development of the mind and gizzard. Their purposes were different: The intent of science was to give insight to the natural history of the earth and its creatures. The purpose of legend was to challenge the imagination and develop the finer sensibilities of the gizzard.
    She opened the first book, entitled Four Leggeds: Ancient and Extinct, written by a highly respected Burrowing Owl of the previous century. Burrowing Owls, perhaps because of their digging abilities, had led the field in the study of fossilized bones. Otulissa settled down to read, and her attention was immediately attracted to the drawing of an immense tooth larger than any canine fang she had ever seen.
    “My, my,” Otulissa muttered. The tooth was as long as her own