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.
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.
The conditions were perfect for setting out the small floats made from bundles of downy feathers and hollowed-out Ga’Hoole nuts.
“Now, what’s this all about?” Twilight asked.
“The idea is to measure the wind drift and current variations in this part of the Sea of Hoolemere,” Soren replied. “So we set out these little floats, then fly back in a few days and see where they are. Make sure the streamers are well attached because that’s how we’re going to find them again.”
It was fun work, and for a snack when they finished Soren had brought along some barbecued bat wings left over from tweener.
“Glaux, this island is so tiny even I feel big on it,” Gylfie said. “Where are we going to light down for a snack?”
“Look over there.” Digger flipped his head towards the northern tip of the island. There were three rocks that dribbled off the island, not more than a foot or two away from the shore. “That looks nice enough.”
The four owls lighted down on the rocks by a small tide pool. As they ate their bat wings in the moonlight they peered into the shallow water.
“Are starfish good to eat?” Digger asked, spotting one on the bottom.
“They’re fish aren’t they?” growled Twilight.
“They don’t look like fish,” Digger said.
“I wouldn’t risk it,” said Soren. “Remember how that Brown Fish Owl’s hollow smelled last autumn in Ambala?”
“Hmmm.” Digger looked at the starfish and seemed to think twice about eating it.
“I don’t think it would be good for your gizzard,” Gylfie said. “I mean bones and fur, that’s one thing, but Glaux knows what these creatures are made from. I’d steer clear of it.”
“Pretty though, aren’t they?” Digger said.
Twilight now bent closer to look at the starfish. “S’pose you could take it back for decoration. They dry out, you know. Might be able to trade it for something with Mags.”
“TWILIGHT!” they all shrieked.
“It’s alive,” Soren said. “You kill things to eat, not for decoration.”
“Barely alive, I’d say. Doesn’t have a brain, doesn’t have a gizzard.”
“Still,” Gylfie said, “it’s alive in its own way.”
“S’pose you’re right,” Twilight said and looked up from his examination of the starfish. “Hey! What’s that over there caught in the rocks?”
Something was fluttering between two rocks in the next tide pool. Soren lofted into the air to fly-hop the short distance. “It’s a piece of paper.” He poked at the piece with his talon. “Or a piece of a piece of paper.” And then more slowly, “Or a piece of a page of what was once a book.” He blinked at the smeared letters. “Great Glaux … Fleckasia! It’s part of the book that Dewlap confiscated from Otulissa.”
“No!” Gylfie said in a stunned voice.
Soon they were all crowded around Soren and peering at the fragment of the page. Then Digger spoke: “Otulissa will flip her gizzard when she sees this. Can you make out any of the writing? She was just talking about this thing called shattering, which fleckasia can cause. It’s worse than moon blinking. But she never got to finish the chapter because Dewlap came in and took the book.”
“Then Dewlap must have thrown it away,” Soren said. “What a complete creep that owl is. Imagine destroying a book like this.”
“How did this piece of it ever get this far without completely dissolving?” Gylfie wondered.
“Maybe a seagull picked it up then dropped it here. You know they’ll try to eat anything. And it was caught in this little crack where it kept pretty dry,” Soren said. “In any case, we have to take this back to Otulissa. Maybe she can make something of it.”
When they returned to the great tree, the first pink streaks of dawn were just showing. After a quick breaklight Soren, Digger and Gylfie went to their hollow. Otulissa had completed her experiment for Ezylryb on the far beach but had not yet returned from a special errand for Barran and Boron. She was flying to a slipgizzle who it was thought might have information about the Northern Kingdoms. Soren felt that Boron and Barran were trying to placate Otulissa, who had been plotting a very complex attack