The Rescue (Guardians of Ga'hoole) Read Online Free PDF
Author: Kathryn Lasky
Tags: Fiction, General, Fantasy fiction, Children's Books, Fantasy, Juvenile Fiction, Action & Adventure - General, Fantasy & Magic, Ages 9-12 Fiction, Science Fiction; Fantasy; & Magic, Children: Grades 4-6, Owls, Children's & young adult fiction & true stories, Animals - Birds, Juvenile Science Fiction
woods.
“I think,” Poot announced, “it’s time for us to turn in. Not for a full day’s sleep, mind you. We’ll leave before First Black. No fear of crows around here.” He slid his neck about in a slow twist as if scanning the wood.
“No. Just scrooms,” Nut Beam said.
“Nut Beam, shut your beak,” Martin screeched fiercely.
“Now, now, Martin! Don’t like that tone, lad,” Poot said, trying to sound very—
Very what? wondered Soren. Like Ezylryb? Never like the Captain.
“Well, I’ve been doing some thinking,” Poot went on to say. “And I think that this being a spirit woods as some calls ’em, I think it’s best that we keep to the ground for sleeping, no perching in them trees.” He swiveled his head around in a slow sweeping movement, as if he were almosttrying to push back the bone-white trees that surrounded them.
A hush fell upon the group. Soren thought he could hear the beat of their hearts quicken. This scroom stuff must really be serious, he said to himself. Even Ruby looked a little nervous. For an owl to sleep on the ground was almost unheard of, unless, of course, it was a Burrowing Owl who lived in the desert, like Digger. There were dangers on the ground. Predators—like raccoons.
“I know what you be thinking,” Poot continued nervously and seemed to avoid looking them in the eye as Ezylryb would have. “I know you’re thinking that for an owl to ground sleep ain’t natural. But these ain’t natural woods. And it’s said that these trees might really belong to the scrooms. You never know which one a scroom might light down in and it’s best to leave the trees be. I’m older than you young’uns. Got more experience. And I’d be daft not to tell you that my gizzard is giving me some mighty twinges.”
“Mine, too!” said Silver.
“Probably has a gizzard the size of a pea,” Martin whispered.
“Now don’cha go worry too much. We just got to be vigi-ful,” Poot continued.
“You mean ‘vigilant’?” Otulissa said.
“Don’t smart beak me, lassie. We’s gonna set up awatch. I’ll take the first one with Martin. Otulissa and Ruby you take the next. And Soren you take the last. You have to do it alone, but it be the shortest one, lad. So nothin’ to fear.”
Nothing to fear? Then why doesn’t he take it? Soren thought, but he knew that the one thing a chaw owl never did was question a command. All of the owls turned their heads toward Soren.
Martin stepped forward. “I’ll stay up with you, Soren.”
Soren blinked at the little Northern Saw-whet. “No, no—that’s very kind of you, Martin, but you’ll be tired. You must already be tired. I mean you’ve fallen into the sea. Don’t worry, Martin. I’ll be fine.”
“No, Soren, I mean it.”
“No, I’ll be fine,” Soren said firmly.
The truth was that during that first watch they were all too nervous to sleep and the ground was a terrible place to even try to sleep to begin with. But as the dark faded and the white of the trees melted into the lightness of the morning, they did grow sleepier and sleepier. The owls’ heads began to droop lower and lower until they were resting on their breasts or on their backs, as it was the habit of very young owls to twist their heads around and rest them just between their shoulders.
“Your watch, Soren,” Ruby said.
His eyes blinked open. He lifted his head.
“Don’t worry. There is nothing out here. Not a raccoon, not a scroom, not a scroom of a raccoon.” Otulissa churred softly, which was the sound that owls made when they laughed.
Soren walked over to the watch mound that was in a small clearing. He spread his wings and, in one brief upstroke, rose to settle on the top of the mound. The fog in the forest had thickened again. A soft breeze swirled through the woods, stirring and spinning the mist into fluffy shapes. Some of the mist clouds were long and skinny, others puffy. Soren thought of the silly jabber of the young owlets when
“I think,” Poot announced, “it’s time for us to turn in. Not for a full day’s sleep, mind you. We’ll leave before First Black. No fear of crows around here.” He slid his neck about in a slow twist as if scanning the wood.
“No. Just scrooms,” Nut Beam said.
“Nut Beam, shut your beak,” Martin screeched fiercely.
“Now, now, Martin! Don’t like that tone, lad,” Poot said, trying to sound very—
Very what? wondered Soren. Like Ezylryb? Never like the Captain.
“Well, I’ve been doing some thinking,” Poot went on to say. “And I think that this being a spirit woods as some calls ’em, I think it’s best that we keep to the ground for sleeping, no perching in them trees.” He swiveled his head around in a slow sweeping movement, as if he were almosttrying to push back the bone-white trees that surrounded them.
A hush fell upon the group. Soren thought he could hear the beat of their hearts quicken. This scroom stuff must really be serious, he said to himself. Even Ruby looked a little nervous. For an owl to sleep on the ground was almost unheard of, unless, of course, it was a Burrowing Owl who lived in the desert, like Digger. There were dangers on the ground. Predators—like raccoons.
“I know what you be thinking,” Poot continued nervously and seemed to avoid looking them in the eye as Ezylryb would have. “I know you’re thinking that for an owl to ground sleep ain’t natural. But these ain’t natural woods. And it’s said that these trees might really belong to the scrooms. You never know which one a scroom might light down in and it’s best to leave the trees be. I’m older than you young’uns. Got more experience. And I’d be daft not to tell you that my gizzard is giving me some mighty twinges.”
“Mine, too!” said Silver.
“Probably has a gizzard the size of a pea,” Martin whispered.
“Now don’cha go worry too much. We just got to be vigi-ful,” Poot continued.
“You mean ‘vigilant’?” Otulissa said.
“Don’t smart beak me, lassie. We’s gonna set up awatch. I’ll take the first one with Martin. Otulissa and Ruby you take the next. And Soren you take the last. You have to do it alone, but it be the shortest one, lad. So nothin’ to fear.”
Nothing to fear? Then why doesn’t he take it? Soren thought, but he knew that the one thing a chaw owl never did was question a command. All of the owls turned their heads toward Soren.
Martin stepped forward. “I’ll stay up with you, Soren.”
Soren blinked at the little Northern Saw-whet. “No, no—that’s very kind of you, Martin, but you’ll be tired. You must already be tired. I mean you’ve fallen into the sea. Don’t worry, Martin. I’ll be fine.”
“No, Soren, I mean it.”
“No, I’ll be fine,” Soren said firmly.
The truth was that during that first watch they were all too nervous to sleep and the ground was a terrible place to even try to sleep to begin with. But as the dark faded and the white of the trees melted into the lightness of the morning, they did grow sleepier and sleepier. The owls’ heads began to droop lower and lower until they were resting on their breasts or on their backs, as it was the habit of very young owls to twist their heads around and rest them just between their shoulders.
“Your watch, Soren,” Ruby said.
His eyes blinked open. He lifted his head.
“Don’t worry. There is nothing out here. Not a raccoon, not a scroom, not a scroom of a raccoon.” Otulissa churred softly, which was the sound that owls made when they laughed.
Soren walked over to the watch mound that was in a small clearing. He spread his wings and, in one brief upstroke, rose to settle on the top of the mound. The fog in the forest had thickened again. A soft breeze swirled through the woods, stirring and spinning the mist into fluffy shapes. Some of the mist clouds were long and skinny, others puffy. Soren thought of the silly jabber of the young owlets when