(GoG Book 02) The Journey Read Online Free PDF Page B

smudge on his beak from the coal that he had picked up and dropped on the bobcat. Soren had flown a short distance from the tree where they had found a hollow, to the edge of the lake, to clean up. Until that time, Soren had thought that water was only for drinking and occasionally—very occasionally—for washing. But when he peered into the lake he nearly fainted.
    “Da!” he gasped.
    “It’s not your da. It’s you, dear,” Mrs. Plithiver said. For although she was blind, Mrs. P. knew about reflections in much the same way she knew so many other things that she could not see. “You’ve probably never seen your face fully fledged.”
    “It’s all white, just like Da’s. I’m so, so—”
    “Handsome?” Mrs. Plithiver said.
    “Well, yeah.” Soren muffled a nervous churr, slightly embarrassed to admit it.
    Slightly it had been, but no more! That was, indeed, the end of Soren’s embarrassment as well as his modesty, andthe end of the other owls’ as well. They were soon all nodding over the mirror of the lake, admiring themselves. And when they weren’t gazing at their reflections from the edge, they were flying above the lakes, marveling at their fabulous flight maneuvers and pitching “wingies,” as they called it when they rolled off rising drafts of air. Twilight was, of course, the worst of all because he was so boastful to begin with. Mrs. Plithiver could hear him out there now, hooting about his beauty, his muscular physique, the fluffiness of his feathers, while he tumbled over and under a roll of air.
    “Look at me bounce off this cloud!” And then for the tenth time that day, Twilight sang his “I Am More Beautiful Than a Cloud” song.

What is as fleecy as a cloud,
    As majestic and shimmering as the breaking dawn,
    As gorgeous as the sun is strong?
    Why, it’s ME!
    Twilight, the Great Gray,
    Tiger of the sky—
    Light of the Night,
    Most beautiful,
    An avian delight.
    I beam—
    I gleam—
    I’m a livin’ flying dream.
    Watch me roll off this cloud and pop on back.
    This is flying,
    I ain’t no hack.

    “But,” Mrs. Plithiver said with a hiss that sizzled, “you ain’t, as you say, ‘rolling off clouds’!” Because, as Mrs. Plithiver could sense, the clouds were too high that day, and Twilight was flying too low to reach them as he admired himself in the Mirror Lakes. In actuality, Twilight was flying off the reflections of clouds that quivered on the glasslike surface of the lake. And that, Mrs. Plithiver concluded, was the heart of the problem with all the owls. They were mistaking the world of image and reflection for the real world. The Mirror Lakes had transfixed them. And in their transfixed state they had forgotten all they had fought for and fought against. Had they once spoken of the Great Ga’Hoole Tree or its noble owls since they had arrived at this cursed place? Had they ever mentioned St. Aggie’s and its terrors? Had Soren even once thought of his dear family except the first time he caught his reflection in the lake? And what about Eglantine? Did he ever think of her and what might have happened to his poor sister?
    This was a very strange place. It was not just the MirrorLakes and the thick soft moss and the perfect tree hollows and the plentiful game. Suddenly, Mrs. Plithiver realized that in the rest of the kingdoms they had flown through it was becoming early winter, but here it was still summer, full summer. She could smell it. The leaves were still green, the grasses supple, the earth warm. But it was poisonous! They had to get out of here. This place was as dangerous as St. Aggie’s.
    “Come here this instant! All of you!” It was the closest a hissing snake ever got to a snarl.
    Soren jerked his head up from admiring his beak in the surface of the pond. He rather liked the smudge on it. He thought it added “character” to his face, as Gylfie said.
    “Mrs. P., what in Glaux’s name?”
    “I’ll Glaux you!” she hissed.
    Soren nearly fainted. He