(GoG Book 08) The Outcast (5 page)

He looked up at the moss scarves waving eerily in the breeze. Reaching up, he pulled down a long piece of it. It fell perfectly over his shoulders, trailing off the edges of his wings. He flipped his head around and nipped up one edge with his beak so that it fell like a hood over the top
of his head. He didn’t want to hide his face completely. The scar should show. Coryn then spread his wings and lifted off from the branch where he had perched.

The raccoon, ground squirrel, mouse, rat, and lynx paused in their nightly bustle as they foraged for food and looked up at the strange creature that flew overhead. A tree squirrel that had just poked its nose out to go on its evening rounds for nut collecting backed quickly into its knothole. A skunk sprayed its noxious odor into the sky, but to no avail. Coryn was much too high in flight. A deathly quiet fell upon the forest. A hagsfiend was abroad!

W
hy’s everything suddenly so quiet?” the young Barn Owl asked.

“I don’t know. It’s weird, isn’t it?” replied the other.

“Yeah, it gives me the creelies.” “Creelies” was the owl word for deep, unidentifiable fears.

“Well, you better get over it, you two. This is our test. Going into battle is going to give you bigger creelies than this. All we have to do is guard these eggs until Stryker and Wortmore get back.”

Coryn had settled into a tree downwind of the three owls guarding the eggs. He hoped the wind would carry away any sound he made and would carry to him all the words and sounds coming from the three owls guarding the egg cache. And, at this moment, he seemed to be bombarded by sounds. There were the voices of the three owls and then there were the stirrings of the eggs. These eggs sounded close to hatching. He did not think there were
that many, maybe three or four. But still there was the problem of which one was the Burrowing Owls’ egg. He needed to listen more closely. The more he could learn, the better off he would be. But he did not have much time if Stryker and Wortmore were expected. What he had already learned was valuable. There were three of them. They were all Barn Owls, which meant that they were in training for higher jobs and would not be assigned to the lowliest ranks of the Pure Ones like his dear friend, Phillip. And they were nervous. Even the one who sounded so bold was nervous. Coryn could tell. He could hear the young recruit’s heart beating rapidly.

Coryn’s hearing had never been so sharp. He could hear things he had never before heard. He continued to cock his head and scan with his ear slits for any new scrap of information. He was almost sure that there were three eggs in the cache, for he could hear the dim but slightly different heartbeats of the unhatched chicks. They were more like soft pulses than real beats. He cocked his head, and then again. Was there another pulsing sound coming from beneath the hollow that the three Barn Owls guarded? He stilled his own heart and quieted his breathing. It was as if Coryn had transmuted his entire body into one big ear. He opened his eyes wide in amazement.
There
is an egg at the base of the tree. Perhaps in a shallow pit covered with something. Of course! This is the egg of a Burrowing Owl. This is where a Burrowing Owl’s egg would be kept.

“Did you hear something, Flint?”

“No. You two are just getting jumpy.”

“It…it…sounded like a very soft wind.”

“So, it was a soft wind. Never heard of wind in a forest?”

“I don’t know. It just sounded different.”

Coryn made two more passes high above the tree where the three owls were perched, guarding the eggs. He could hear their rapidly increasing heartbeats. He didn’t want to wait much longer. Now was the time. He slowed his flight and spiraled down and then began to hover. It was perfect timing as the cloud cover parted and a misty trail of moonlight slipped through the trees.

“Nyra!” one of them screamed.

“Not Nyra! Her hagsfiend’s come to curse you.” And then Coryn let loose with a terrifying shree.

Your gizzards are a-wobble,

Your gall grot turned to mush.

I shall take you all to hagsmire

And rip out all your guts.

I shall make you my slaves,

Condemn you to shame,

Unless you learn to play

My great and evil game.

“My Glaux! My Glaux! Save us!” Flint was gasping.

“We should never have left our parents!”

“It’s not my fault. I was snatched!”

The three Barn Owls were fleeing, spiraling upward in flight. They could not leave their post quickly enough. It had worked!

C
oryn tore off the scarves of moss. The great ruse had worked better than he had ever dreamed. He lighted down at the base of the tree and carefully cleared away the leaves from the shallow pit. There was the egg, perfectly round and gleaming white, with still a little bit of dirt from The Barrens stuck to its shell.

Ever so cautiously, Coryn wrapped his talons around the precious egg. Then he spread his wings and, with a powerful upstroke followed by a downstroke, lifted off the ground. He felt bad that he could not save the other three in the nest, yet he would not even have known where to take them. All he knew right now was that he had to get out of this forest before Stryker and Wortmore came back. The wind had shifted and was against him. It would be a hard flight back to The Barrens but he had to do it. There was little left of the night. He might have to risk flying into the morning, but there was really no choice.

The cloud cover had blown off. There was no place to
hide now in the sky. He could only hope that he would not meet any of the Pure Ones. Perhaps he should have kept the rags of moss. It had certainly worked as a hagsfiend disguise. But flying against this wind with the moss would not have been easy. He could feel now the swish of the liquid in the egg and hear the murmurs of the young heart. How precious these feelings and sounds were. How precious this life was. To think that it could have been destroyed by the Pure Ones. Surely, it would have been as good as destroyed even if it had hatched, because to be born into such a despicable world and nurtured by such vile creatures was the same as death.

He pumped his wings harder against the wind. It was amazing how quickly he had come to love this egg and, with that wonder, Coryn realized something else: To love something can often mean to give it up, to release it to where it truly belongs. Was life always going to be this way for him? Coryn wondered. He had loved Phillip and he had loved Mist and Zan and Streak and the lovely green snakes and yet he was forced to part with them all.

The sky was beginning to lighten. He could see the mound of rocks beneath which the Burrowing Owls had dug their burrow. There was nobody out of the burrow at this hour. They were probably sleeping below. He was not quite sure how he should go about giving them back the
egg. He didn’t want to scare them again. But he certainly couldn’t just leave the egg outside to be found. The wrong owls might find it. Not to mention snakes, which loved to eat any kind of bird’s eggs.

As Coryn began to descend, he heard a soft weeping sound coming from the burrow. It was the mother. Then there were the murmurs of the father trying his best to soothe her.

Now how should I do this?
Coryn thought. He lighted down and gently placed the egg just to the side of the entrance. The sunrise behind the egg was creeping over the dawn horizon, making the egg cast a lovely cool shadow over the entrance to the burrow. Below in the burrow, Harry blinked as he patted his wife and looked up, noticing this change in the light.

“Just a minute, dear, I want to check something outside.”

Coryn turned away from the burrow’s entrance. He could not face this owl. His gizzard was shivering so hard it seemed to shake his entire body. He heard a gasp.

“What? What is this? Myrtle, come here. It’s a miracle. Our egg, our egg is back!”

There was a racket as the rest of the family clambered from the burrow.

“How? How did this happen?” Myrtle asked.

It was a minute before anyone noticed Coryn off to the side, almost hiding himself behind a rock with his face still turned away.

“This was no a miracle.” It was a young female owl who spoke. Coryn could hear the scratches of her talons against the hard gritty earth and rock as she came toward him. “You…” She hesitated. “You brought our egg back, didn’t you?”

Coryn nodded but still would not turn around. He could hear the rapid heartbeat of the young owl. She was coming closer. He buried his head beneath one wing.

“Won’t you turn around so we can see you?” she said softly. “Please!”

Slowly, Coryn began to turn around, but his wing was still lifted against his face.

“Who are you?” Myrtle asked.

“Why are you hiding your face?” asked the young daughter.

“Because,” Coryn began slowly, “I am not who you think I am. As I told you before, I am nothing like my mother or father. My name is not Nyra, I am Coryn.” And he let his wing drop from his face.

There was a gasp and a little shriek from the young
daughter, Kalo. But then she stepped forward. She extended her wing and touched Coryn gently. “We believe you. You brought our egg back. We believe you.”

“Please come into our burrow,” Harry said. “Please, son, come in.”

He called me son. No one has ever called me son.

T
he little egg deep in the burrow began to rock slightly.

“Watch it carefully now, Coryn. It will sort of shudder,” Kalo whispered.

“Shudder?” Coryn asked.

“Yes. All eggs do just before they hatch. I really shuddered. Mom said I was the biggest egg she ever laid,” Kalo offered.

“Hush up,” said Myrtle. “This isn’t a contest. It’s a hatching, a birth!”

And it’s a miracle,
Coryn thought.

A miracle and a dream. It had been only two nights since he had arrived at the burrow but he felt as if he had entered a dream. A dream family. There was a young owl his age, a mum and da who loved and nurtured her. There was gentle bickering between the parents, and some squabbling and teasing. But there was love. And now for the first time ever, he was seeing a chick hatch.

“Look, Myrtle, there’s the egg tooth coming through.”

“Egg tooth?” Coryn wondered aloud.

“Didn’t your mum tell you about the egg tooth?” Kalo said with a small giggle.

“My mum told me nothing,” Coryn sighed.
Nothing except false stories of glory, conduct of so-called valor that were really deeds of shame, tales of so-called honor that were in truth histories of disgrace, codes of loyalty that were in fact schemes of hatred and vengeance. Yes, that is what Nyra taught me.

“The egg tooth, my dear,” Myrtle began, “is a tiny sharp tooth that has only one purpose: to help a chick peck its way out of the shell. It disappears soon after hatching.”

They all watched spellbound now as a long crack began crinkling out from the tiny hole.

“The ‘Fracture of Glaux’ some call it,” Harry whispered.

“Get ready!” Kalo said. “It’s coming! I bet it’s a…” She started to say she thought it would be a boy, but Harry cuffed her wings gently. “What did I tell you? We don’t bet on such things. We just thank Glaux that we have our precious egg back.”

There was a loud crack now as the egg split open. A shiny blob of a chick flopped out. Coryn was shocked. It was one of the most disgusting things he had ever seen—featherless, slimy with bulging eyes,
but…but…I love it!
Never had he felt such a swirl of emotions. It was
ugly yet adorable. It was repulsive yet lovable. It was gooey with slime but he wanted to cuddle it. He watched transfixed as the tiny thing attempted to stagger to its feet and then collapsed.

“It’s a boy!” Myrtle cooed. Then she looked up. “And we’ll call him Coryn!”

“What?” Coryn said.

“Of course, Coryn!” Harry repeated. Then hoorays broke out in the burrow.

“I…I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Kalo spoke softly. “If it hadn’t been for you…”

“Yes, Coryn. If it hadn’t been for you…” Myrtle’s eyes filled with tears.

And then began all the wonderful little ceremonies that mark an owl’s life soon after hatching. The “Firsts” they were called. Coryn felt the most touching of all these ceremonies was the First Seeing ceremony, when the little chick first opened its bulging eyes and took a peek at its new world.

“Just think,” Kalo whispered as little Coryn looked about. “He thinks this burrow is the whole world and there are only five owls in it!” That ceremony was followed usually by the First Worm or Insect ceremony, and Coryn was allowed to bring him his very first worm. Then
there was the First Down ceremony when the first fluffy filaments of downy feathers began to sprout from the naked chick’s puckery skin.

“Oh, you’ll be a regular little fluff-ball soon,” Harry said as he fussed over his son. “Here, chickie-chickie poo-poo!”

“Da’s absolutely besotted!” Kalo said.

“Besotted?” Coryn asked.

“Fancy word for being in love, like yoicks with love,” Myrtle said. “Kalo is always using fancy words. ‘Besotted’ is her latest one.”

But it was perfect, Coryn thought. He, too, was besotted. It sounded to him like being soggy with love—not simply yoicks or crazy.

It would be so hard to leave. He felt as if he could stay in this burrow forever. He had already stayed too long, nearly five nights. They were now begging him to stay for little Coryn’s First Meat ceremony, which would be in another two nights. But he knew he couldn’t. This would be his last night. He would have to leave by First Black the next evening. But for tonight he and Kalo—with whom he had grown very close—would go out and hunt for that first meat together.

Night flying with Kalo was very interesting. Kalo spent almost as much time on the ground poking into rats’ nests
and molehills as she did in the sky. Coryn supposed that this was the way it was with most Burrowing Owls, because they were known for their excellent walking skills and their long, strong, featherless legs.