The Shattering

We have been fighting a war that has been instigated by this vile notion that declares that some breeds of owls are better than others, more pure. Not one of us shall, I suppose, ever again say the words ‘pure’ or ‘purity’ without thinking of the bloodshed these words have caused. How unfortunate that a good word has been ruined by the evilness of one group.

Twilight, realising too late what he had just said, clamped his beak shut.

Knowing how mortified Twilight must feel, Otulissa tried to set things to rights again. “Oh, I have never been all that comfortable with fancy stuff. Madam Plonk’s voice is so beautiful when she sings, and she herself is so lovely to look at, I feel she needs no further adornment. And such ornamentation would be completely wasted on me.”

It had been a gracious speech until this point, but then for some reason that eluded even Otulissa, she swivelled her head towards Ginger. “Just give me my helm, my nickel-alloy battle claws and a burning branch, and I feel adorned.” The glare in the young Spotted Owl’s yellow eyes was harsh. It had been in just such battle gear that Otulissa had served with great bravery in one of the fiercest encounters with the Pure Ones.

Once more silence settled on the table, thickly this time, like fog that wouldn’t burn off.

A wet poop joke, that’s what we need, Soren thought desperately.

“Did you hear the one about the seagull that got hit by the wet poop of a bat?” Often, wet poop jokes began with seagulls, for they were considered the worst and messiest of the wet poopers.

“No, what’s that?” said Gylfie, equally desperate to lift the mood.

“Well, this seagull got hit right in the eyes by an off-loading bat and could hardly see to fly. And the bat turned around and said, ‘Now you’re as blind as a splat!”’

The table roared with the churring sound of owl laughter. A little too hard, Soren thought, for the joke was not that funny. He nervously looked down at Mrs P because they had just violated one of the few rules of the dining hollow – no wet poop jokes at meals. Nest-maids were under strict orders to writhe at the first words of a wet poop joke and throw everything off the table and send the owls scattering. But Mrs P was as still as could be. She must have been as desperate as the rest of them to change the subject once the dreadful word had been mentioned.

Everyone continued to churr and guffaw. Soren noticed that other tables began to look at them as loose feathers from the laughing owls drifted down. But then he swivelled his head towards Primrose and caught his breath when he saw her. Glaux! Is she laughing or crying? The little Pygmy was shaking hard and making unintelligible sounds, but there were tears streaming from her eyes.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_24a1ee7f-305c-517e-ad47-7ac25f9d4b14)

A Missing Piece (#ulink_24a1ee7f-305c-517e-ad47-7ac25f9d4b14)

“You see, Eglantine,” Ginger was saying back in the hollow, “just one more way you’re being left out.”

“I know. It’s getting bad. And did I tell you how Soren missed my first Fur-on-Bones ceremony?”

“No, you don’t say! I am shocked. Your own brother didn’t come to your Fur-on-Bones ceremony? That’s unforgivable.”

“He had some excuse, but he was really out larking about with the band.”

“The band?”

“That’s what everyone calls the four of them – Soren, Gylfie, Twilight and Digger – because they all came here together, and they stick together.”

“And leave you out!”

“Right! I’ve never felt more left out in my life.”

You feel left out?! What about me? Primrose almost screamed from the branch she was perched on just outside the hollow. She was eavesdropping. She knew it wasn’t very nice, but it was her hollow too after all, and they wouldn’t talk this freely if they knew she were around.

“Do you know what I think you should do about it?” Ginger asked.

“What?”

Primrose inclined her head a bit more so she could hear better.

“Well,” Ginger said in a cozy, chatty voice. “If I were you, I’d make a list.”

“A list?” Eglantine said.

“Yes, a list of all the things that your brother and his friends have left you out of. I think it always makes one feel better to make a list.”

Racdrops! Complete racdrops! That idiot owl doesn’t even know how to write! Primrose raged silently.

“Hmmm,” Eglantine said.

“Making that list will be a relief. Trust me.”

Don’t trust her! Primrose thought and rushed into the hollow.

“Come on, Eglantine. It’s a great night for flying.”

“Oh, I don’t think we’ll be coming Primrose. We have things to do,” Ginger said.

Primrose blinked. All right. I’m finished with being polite. “I actually didn’t ask you, Ginger. I thought with you still healing from your wing injury you wouldn’t be up for it, but surely you are Eglantine.”

Eglantine looked nervously towards Ginger, almost as if to ask permission to go. “Well … well, maybe just for a little while,” Eglantine replied. “But I’ll come back early and make that list, don’t worry Ginger. Yes, we have important things to do.”

“It will be a relief, Eglantine. I promise.” Then as Primrose and Eglantine were leaving the hollow to join the others for a few flight frolics under the rising moon, Ginger called out, “A real relief, like sleeping.”

Primrose brimmed with joy to be flying with her best friend through the satiny black night. The air was so smooth and soft, soft as an owl chick’s down. Ruby, a Short-eared Owl and probably the best flier in the tree, was inscribing figure-of-eights just under the paws of the constellation of the Big Raccoon, which was rising in the eastern sky. Primrose, however, was cautious. She didn’t want to get too happy. Things might change. And she certainly didn’t want to think about Eglantine making that stupid list. She was wondering if she should say something, not specifically about the list, but about Eglantine feeling left out. She was sure Soren didn’t mean to leave her out. He didn’t have a choice with this weather experiment thing. And just as she was wondering whether to say something, Eglantine said, “Well, time to get back to the hollow.”

“What? Are you yoicks? The night is just beginning. The Big Raccoon is hardly up. I can only see two of his paws.”

“Well, look. Soren and the band are taking off to do their weather experiments already.”

“That’s different. They have things to do. They can’t mess around out here like we can. You don’t see anyone else taking off for their hollows.”

“Well, I have things to do too.”

“Like what?” Primrose was flying just beneath Eglantine, and flipped her head backwards and up as only owls can.

“Just things,” Eglantine answered vaguely. “And sleep. I want to catch a few winks.”

A few winks? That must be an expression she picked up from Ginger. “What do you need to sleep for? Owls don’t sleep at night – especially not a night like this.”

“Well, I’ve been feeling Kind of tired lately.” Eglantine tossed this last comment over her shoulder as she flew off in the direction of the great tree.

Primrose blinked. Maybe there really was something wrong with Eglantine. Maybe she was getting summer flux or grey scale. They said that owls with grey scale slept a lot. Oh, dear, I hope she isn’t really sick.

CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_1e19723c-befd-553f-81f2-2fb1bbcc5e2a)

A fragment from the Sea (#ulink_1e19723c-befd-553f-81f2-2fb1bbcc5e2a)

Meanwhile, as the Big Raccoon climbed higher and higher in the sky, the band of four – Soren, Twilight, Gylfie and Digger – headed north to a small speck of an island that dripped like the tiniest leak from the peninsula of the Broken Talon. They were flying there to perform their weather experiment for Ezylryb.