Guardians of Ga'Hoole 08 - The Outcast

grown noble. Here, indeed, was the true heir of King Hoole.
    In that very same moment, Doc Finebeak was thinking the same thing. It was enough to bring a tear to a very cynical eye. And it would have if Doc Finebeak hadn’t resolved to stay alert. He had to keep an eye on this female, the tyrant owl who was seething with such hatred, he could feel its heat through the frigid wind-whipped air.
    She’s going to make a move any second! I know it, Doc Finebreak thought. And everybody’s so drunk with joy they’ll never notice it. He looked around. He was going to need help to stop what Nyra was planning. But there was only Uglamore. As quietly as possible, Doc Finebeak signaled the old lieutenant to stay put—that he would join him on the ice shelf where he perched. Uglamore nodded.
    When he lighted down beside the old raggedy owl, he whispered to him, “She’s going to do something.”
    Uglamore nodded.
    “She’ll make a move soon. We have to be ready. Are you up to it?”
    Uglamore nodded again. A grim fierceness burned in his eyes. It was almost miraculous. The old lieutenant seemed to grow young. “All right,” he said.
    Nyra spread her wings as Coryn began one more circle of the Sacred Ring with the ember firmly clamped in his beak. The colliers were flying madly below him trying to capture the sparks from it for their buckets. It was said that a spark from the ember ensured bonk coals in a Rogue smith’s forge forever.
    Coryn himself could hardly believe it. At this moment, his gizzard was brimming over with joy and something else—deep, deep gratitude. Until this moment he had never realized how many creatures he loved for the love they had given him—everyone including the beautiful cream-colored wolf, Gyllbane. He looked below for her now but couldn’t find her. And Hamish and Otulissa and Gwyndor, dear Gwyndor who had hinted of such destiny but, more important, told him of free will. Yes, he had come here of his own free will. And Mist! Dear Mist. But right now he wanted to find Hamish and Gyllbane.
    “Stop her!” he heard someone scream.
    What was it? Coryn turned around.
    Nyra!
    “Come to Mama! Give it here!”
    His gizzard screamed, No!
    Coryn went into a steep spiral up, but then something caught his eye on the ground. A wolf was staggering nearthe edges of the ember beds. Sizzles went up as foam dripped from his mouth. The sick wolf! Suddenly, he had an idea. He spiraled down directly toward the foaming-mouthed wolf that was trying to bite its own tail.
    “Look what the lad is doing!” Doc Finebeak said. “Brilliant! He’s herding the old witch right into the jaws of the wolf with the foaming disease. Let’s help!” Uglamore and he were off the ice shelf in a split second.
    In no time, others picked up on Coryn’s strategy. Hamish and Gyllbane seemed to come out of nowhere and began lurching at the sick wolf, driving him toward Nyra. Coryn was determined to keep flying low. If he flew low, Nyra would fly low. Everyone was joining in the attempt to drive the hated owl into the jaws of the sick wolf. They were in a fever. For eons, they had waited for a king, and now their young king was threatened.
    Nyra did not quite know what was happening. She had thought it would be an air battle between her and Coryn, but she was actually being forced toward the ground. She wasn’t a good ground fighter. What’s happening here? She was now tightly surrounded. Where is Nyroc? Behind her were the biggest wolves she had ever seen. There was the cream-colored one from the MacHeath Gadderheal. What is she doing here? Nyra wondered.
    “I’m on your side,” she said in a desperate whisper as Gyllbane closed in on her.
    The wolf’s eyes glittered so brightly they cast a green glow on the patch of snow on the ground. “No, you’re not! You’re on no one’s side but your own,” Gyllbane said through bared teeth.
    Nyra suddenly caught sight of the sick wolf. She could hear its rough breathing and see its foaming mouth. She realized now what they were doing as the other owls and wolves edged her closer and closer to him. She knew of this sickness. She knew it drove animals mad and that they died horrible deaths. She looked up for an escape.
    “Uglamore, you old fool! What are you doing here?” she shreed.
    “Watching you die,” he replied in an even voice.
    “Uglamore, you can’t do this to me.”
    “Yes, he can,” another voice said.
    “Doc Finebeak, you’ll help me, won’t