Lost Tales of Ga'Hoole Read Online Free PDF Page B

Brunwella asked.
    “South,” Thora said definitively. “I don’t think there is anything left for us here in the Northern Kingdoms. Sig told me that his family lives in a place called Silverveil. I want to go find them and tell them what happened here, that their son died a hero. Who knows, maybe they can use a Rogue smith. And you, I think you’re sure to be chosen as the next singer at the great tree.”
    Brunwella was still hesitant. “It’s such a long way away…” But she thought about the lyrics she had just sung and grew brave. “You know what, you’re right, Thora. Let’s fly away.”
    The next night, a letter would arrive at the hollow once shared by Berrick, his mate Rodmilla, and his two daughters. It would confer the title of Singer at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree on Brunwella Plonk. But no one was there to receive it.
    The two sisters flew south together in the moonlight, leaving behind their aching hearts in the frozen north. They flew on for many days, and then they went their separate ways—one to a life of seclusion and anonymity at a forge in the Forest of Silverveil, and the other to a life of fame and esteem at the great tree.

TWO
Fritha’s Painted Past
    A s a ryb, I have had my share of bright students. A few of them rise above the rest. These are the young owls who make me feel truly blessed to be a ryb at the Great Ga’Hoole Tree. You may know one such student as the assistant editor of The Evening Hoot. Yes, I speak of none other than the Pygmy Owl Fritha. Fritha is clever, hardworking, diligent…well, I could go on and on. She came to the great tree in the time of the Great Flourishing. Impressive from the beginning, she was double chawed in colliering and weather, just as I was as a young owl. Fritha has proven herself time and time again, not just to me, but to all her rybs at the great tree. She has even received the highest merit badge a colliering chaw owl could earn.
    When Fritha took her oath as a Guardian, I thought it would be the start of a life of discovery and adventure for a promising young owl. Little did I know that Fritha had already led a life of adventure, intrigue, and secrecy. I learned the truth from Fritha herself just recently, and I shall share it with you, my readers. She feared the truth would make me mistrust her. On the contrary, it made me respect her even more.
    Fritha landed on an ice ledge in the tundra. To her relief, she had finally managed to cross the H’rathghar glacier. She was grateful to have gotten through the contrary winds known as the katabats as she had learned to do in the weather chaw. The flight was long and arduous. Being a Pygmy Owl, and an especially tiny one at that, she had to stop and rest many times. Even resting was no easy task in these parts—whenever she rested, she felt the deep northern chill down to her hollow bones, even though she fluffed out her down feathers to maximum fluffitude as her da had taught her to do. At least flying kept her warm, even if it tired her terribly quickly.
    It was the dead of winter in the Northern Kingdoms, and a terrible time to be traveling there. But it was the only time she was able to get away. The owls of the Great Ga’Hoole Tree had just celebrated Long Night, and a short period of relative quiet would ensue. She hated having to leave the tree, but she would have hated to miss this trip even more. Fritha had told everyone that she was visiting her aunt on Elsemere Island at the Glauxian Sisters retreat. It wasn’t entirely a lie, she did stop there to visit with Aunt Bea for a night. But she didn’t tell anyone the whole truth, either.
    She took to the air again. Any owl watching her would have figured out that she was searching for something. It was daytime, and she circled low over the land. Fritha knew there were no crows in this region, and flew without fear of being mobbed. Her time was short, and she hoped that her search wouldn’t take much longer.
    Fritha turned her head slowly