Lost Tales of Ga'Hoole (Guardians of Ga'Hoole) Read online

  As the sun turned red and plunged toward the horizon in the Desert of Kuneer, Cletus awoke in his burrow and stretched his wings out to the side, one at a time. He did this every time he woke up; it had become a habit. It was still hot in the desert as the sun set, and by drooping and stretching his wings, Cletus exposed the unfeathered area under each wing, which cooled him slightly. It took him half a moon cycle’s worth of sleepily bumping into the walls to learn that if he tried to stretch both wings, he could barely unbend his elbow joints.

  Not many Great Gray Owls lived in ground burrows in the desert. In fact, Cletus knew of only two, including himself. The other was his older brother, Tavis. Ground burrows were usually occupied by much smaller owls. Cletus was painfully aware of this fact. He was particularly large for a Great Gray Owl. Tavis was even larger. It was a wonder that Cletus and Tavis found a burrow big enough to accommodate them. They guessed that it must have belonged to some foxes, or maybe a family of coyotes.

  The two brothers were originally from the Forest Kingdom of Ambala. Ah, Ambala. They remembered the place fondly—so lush, so green, so different from this remote corner of the southwestern reaches of the Desert of Kuneer. This place was the very opposite of lush and green. The parched earth stretched as far as the eye could see. Trees were as rare as rain showers. The only plants were small shrubs and alien-looking cacti. During the day, the sun beat down on the pale earth and baked the surface of the landscape. At night, the biting cold set upon the land as quickly as an owl on a fat mouse. This was one of the areas of the desert where not many owls lived. Those who did live here mostly kept to themselves.

  If Tavis and Cletus could have lived all their lives peacefully in the forests of Ambala, they certainly would have. Growing up, they had shared a comfy hollow in a large oak tree with their mum and da. One day, their da had gone out hunting and never came home. Their mum had found out that he was killed by one of the earliest leaders of the Pure Ones, known only as the High Tyto. Their father’s death had been particularly devastating for the whole family because their mum had just laid an egg. Then, not a moon cycle later, their mum disappeared while Tavis and Cletus were out hunting. She had been sitting the egg in their nest. They had found her body a few nights later. Mum and Da had always been very outspoken against the notions of “owl purity” touted by the so-called Pure Ones; their mum and da said it loud and clear on many occasions: Owl purity was a load of racdrops. Tavis and Cletus had suspected that it was their opinions that got them both killed. The egg that their mum had been sitting looked as if it had hatched, but the brothers had found no sign of the chick.

  After that, Tavis and Cletus knew that their days in Ambala were numbered. The hollow they had shared with their parents was a constant reminder of their loss. The owls of St. Aggie’s were still patrolling the area, stealing eggs and owlets and recruiting thugs. The Pure Ones were moving in as well, savagely targeting any owl who disagreed with their “philosophy.” The two brothers decided that they had to leave Ambala for good.

  For much of that summer, the two owls roamed the Southern Kingdoms, spending time in abandoned nests here and there. None had felt like home. And as vagabond owls, they continued to have run-ins with the Pure Ones and St. Aggie’s patrols. When autumn came, Tavis and Cletus decided they needed to settle down. They found themselves in a wide, shallow, crater-shaped region in the Desert of Kuneer. Locals called it the “Broken Egg” for the jagged, packed earth ridges that rimmed the edges like fragments of an eggshell. Large, abandoned ground burrows were plentiful. The Pure Ones and St. Aggie’s owls never ventured here. The land was vast and the brothers lived far from their nearest neighbors. The owls around here weren’t very sociable, but they looked out for one another because they were together in their solitude. For the first time since their father’s death, they felt safe. And so they stayed and made the ground burrow their home. That was years ago.

  One evening, Cletus poked his head out of the burrow he shared with his brother Tavis. To the west, the last remaining glow of the sun cut the earth ridges black against the sky. The northern edge of the Broken Egg sloped up behind him, dimming into gray as stars began to dot the sky. His eyes adjusted to the twilight, and he looked for the larger Great Gray, who had already gone out to hunt. Prey was often hard to find here, and the brothers knew they would have to get started early. It was springtime, and many of the Burrowing Owl families in the desert were sitting eggs and hatching chicks,so there was a quite a bit of competition for food. But with any luck, Tavis and Cletus would find a nice plump pocket gopher—a desert delicacy.

  As Cletus flew toward their usual hunting grounds, he spotted Saul, one of his Burrowing Owl neighbors. He was standing guard near his hollow. Cletus knew that this must mean Saul’s mate, Trixie, had laid a clutch of eggs. It was customary for male Burrowing Owls to stand guard during the day as the females sat their eggs. Soon, Saul would also be on the hunt for food to bring back to the burrow.

  Saul and Trixie had been Tavis and Cletus’s first friends in the desert. They were very kind to the two Great Grays when they first arrived in Kuneer. They taught them the ways of desert living—how to find water in succulent cacti, how to hunt without the cover of trees, and how to clean their feathers by rolling in the sand. Cletus was reminded that if it had not been for Saul and Trixie, he and Tavis might have never been able to make a home for themselves here. He and Saul exchanged nods in polite greeting as Cletus flew on.

  In his usual hunting ground, not far from his burrow, Cletus’s brother Tavis was perched atop a tall cactus, sitting and waiting. Had he been in a forest, he would have been hidden from view by branches and leaves. But out here in the desert, he relied on being very still to avoid being seen by prey. He spotted a small burrow not twenty pytes away. It was a new burrow, he was sure it hadn’t been there yesterday. There’s gotta be a pocket gopher in there, he thought hungrily. Tavis and Cletus knew that no owl in his right mind would dig a burrow so close to an occupied burrow. Everyone around here prized their privacy. It had to be a prey animal.

  Just then, Tavis heard a soft rustle. He looked toward the entrance of the burrow and saw the slightest movement. A small brown head poked out of the burrow, just above the surface of the sand. Gotcha now, tasty! Tavis crouched down ever so slightly and lifted off from his perch. He flew low to the ground with silent, slow wing beats. He extended his talons, ready to make the kill. Great Grays prided themselves on killing their prey with a single, powerful strike of their talons. When they were hatchlings and just learning to hunt, Tavis and Cletus had always been taught never to cause suffering. So, it was with a single-minded intent to kill that Tavis dove for the burrow.

  Tavis was suddenly derailed when he heard a loud screech.

  “OOOWL!”

  The brown head quickly retreated back into its burrow. Tavis retracted his talons. But he had been flying in so fast that it made him lose his balance in midair. He landed face-first in the sand with a muffled thud.

  “Sorry, brother.”

  It was Cletus.

  Tavis stood himself up, more than a little peeved.

  “That was an owl there in that burrow,” Cletus said as Tavis dusted himself off. “Couldn’t let you kill an owl.”

  “I thought it was a pocket gopher,” Tavis grumbled. “Since when does an owl dig a burrow this close to ours? That just ain’t right.”

  “Shh, here he comes.”

  The occupant of the burrow in question poked his head out again. Indeed, it was not a gopher of any kind, it was a Burrowing Owl. And this Burrowing Owl looked none too pleased to see Tavis and Cletus.

  Cletus, always the neighborly owl, decided he would make the introductions.

  “Hi there,” he began. “Sorry about that. My brother here thought you were a pocket gopher.”

  “Yeah, sorry,” Tavis added. “Not that you look anything like a pocket gopher now that I’m getting a good look at ya. It was hard to see, what with the setting sun and all. We d
idn’t know you had dug this burrow.”

  The Burrowing Owl stared at the two Great Grays angrily and said nothing.

  “I’m Cletus, and this is my brother Tavis,” Cletus continued. “We live in a burrow just over there.” He gestured toward their burrow.

  There was another long, awkward pause.

  “I didn’t scare you, did I?” Tavis asked, tilting his head sheepishly.

  The Burrowing Owl shot Tavis a look that told him he wasn’t the type to scare easily. Finally, he opened his beak. “Well, Cletus, Tavis, I trust you’ll know next time that I’m not some sort of prey animal.” And without ever introducing himself, he withdrew back into his burrow.

  The Great Grays had met their fair share of thugs, hooligans, and all-around bad owls in their lifetimes. But there was something about this owl that made both of them bristle.

  “Seems we got ourselves a new neighbor,” Tavis said to Cletus.

  “Guess so, brother. I guess so.”

  A few nights later, Cletus and Tavis got a visitor. It was an old Burrowing Owl named Hiram who lived beyond the sand dunes a ways south. Hiram was a kind old soul who enjoyed his peace and quiet. The old owl seemed very concerned.

  “Just wanted to check in with my fellow desert dwellers,” Hiram started after the three owls exchanged some pleasantries. “Notice anything…unusual around your part of the desert?”

  “Unusual how?” asked Tavis. While he didn’t say it right away, he immediately thought of his and Cletus’s encounter with their obnoxious new neighbor.

  “Well, you know how I dug my hollow on a piece of unexcavated land? I came out here looking for a place where I can be on my own. That’s what I had, until a few nights ago. Seems I got me some new neighbors.”

  Tavis and Cletus gave each other a meaningful look.

  Hiram continued. “I found the opening of a new burrow not ten pytes from my own. So I went to investigate. There were two Burrowing Owls in there. They were real off-puttin’, wouldn’t tell me their names.”

  “Your story is starting to sound awfully familiar, Hiram,” Tavis said.

  “We have a new neighbor, too,” Cletus piped up. “Burrowing Owl. Dug a burrow a pellet’s yarp away from here.”

  “What else did you find out about the ones near you?” Tavis asked.

  “Well, not much,” Hiram answered. “As I said, they wouldn’t tell me their names, hardly said a word to me, even though I was trying to be nice. Told me to mind my own business, else they might have to come over and mind it for me,” he added indignantly.

  The brothers felt bad for the old owl. He seemed truly troubled.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Hiram said, his voice growing in fervor. “It seems like they’ve been excavating night and day. I can hear ‘em from my burrow. How much space could two Burrowing Owls possibly need? I swear to Glaux they’re about to bust through my walls!”

  “I thought I heard some excavating these last few days, too.” Tavis turned to Cletus.

  “There’s definitely something odd about all this.”

  Tavis nodded with his brother in agreement. “I think we better figure out what’s going on.”

  Hiram seemed relieved. “I thought I should tell someone.”

  “I’m glad you came to us, Hiram,” Tavis assured him. “We’ll get to the bottom of it. In the meantime, keep your eyes open, and let us know if you see anything else suspicious.”

  Later that very night, Tavis and Cletus went on a reconnaissance mission. The two owls flew side by side, slow and low over the land. Their eyes searched the surface, sweeping from left to right and then back again. They scanned the desert from the southwestern corner to the northeast. It took them the rest of the night and into the dawn.

  The first thing they noticed was that there were a lot more burrows than there used to be. And most of the openings looked like they were freshly dug. When they looked closer, they realized that the burrows weren’t randomly scattered across the desert as they might expect. On the contrary, they seemed quite regular, forming a sort of network. The brothers nodded to each other. They would have to talk about this once they got home.

  As they neared their own burrow, they spotted something else strange. It was their new neighbor, the Burrowing Owl, dragging some food back to his hollow. But it wasn’t just some food, it was a whole lot of food!

  “How many mice do you think he’s got there?” Cletus whispered to Tavis.

  “Must be at least a dozen!” Tavis answered.

  It was hard to tell because the Burrowing Owl had tied the tails of all the mice together into a knot, and was dragging the lot of them across the sand. It was an appalling sight. The bundle of prey was far larger than the owl. And he looked to be using all his strength to move the bundle.

  “Well, that’s just plain wrong,” Cletus said.

  “Disgusting,” Tavis agreed.

  It’s an unwritten rule among owls that you never kill more than you can eat. Doing so was not only wasteful, but more important, it was disrespectful to the creature that gave its life. As far as the brothers were able to tell, this Burrowing Owl lived alone in his burrow. They never saw any signs of a mate or chicks. Even if there were chicks, twelve mice were more than enough to feed several families.

  “This desert’s never had too much in the way of prey; he may as well be taking those mice right out of some chick’s beak,” Travis said.

  “Let’s go have a little talk with our greedy neighbor,” Tavis replied, angling down toward the owl.

  The Burrowing Owl had spotted the two Great Grays a ways back. He was going as fast as his featherless legs would take him while hauling his heavy load. There was no place to hide around here. And now, there was no avoiding the interlopers.

  “Pardon us, neighbor,” Cletus began politely as he landed. “Remember us? Cletus, and my brother Tavis?”

  The Burrowing Owl dropped his bundle of mice from his beak. “I remember. What do you two want?” he responded brusquely.

  “That’s an awful lot of mice you have there,” Cletus continued in as polite a tone as he could manage.

  “Yes, what of it?” the Burrowing Owl said, not hiding his annoyance.

  “What army are you feeding?” Tavis tried to jape.

  The Burrowing Owl’s yellow eyes widened. He seemed alarmed, just for a second. Then, he regained his composure. “What does it matter? I’ve caught them. They’re mine.”

  Tavis and Cletus looked at each other, not sure how to continue their line of questioning. Cletus finally asked, “You live alone in your hollow? That just seems like an awful lot of food for one owl. Prey is scarce around here, and…”

  Before Cletus could finish, the Burrowing Owl interrupted. “What I do with the prey that I catch is my business. I suggest that if you’re hungry, you go off and do some hunting of your own, instead of standing here and questioning me.”

  Tavis was getting angry, and without even realizing it, he began to puff himself up in a threat display. “We just figured we should know what’s going on so close to our home,” he said, gritting his beak. “We’ve been living in this desert for a long time, and when a stranger shows up and starts digging new burrows and hunting up all the prey, we have a right to know what’s going on.”

  Tavis’s and Cletus’s sheer size should have intimidated any owl. But this Burrowing Owl, who was a fraction of the size of a Great Gray, was unmoved. With a steely glare in his yellow eyes, he told them, “All you need to know is that I’m an owl who does not take kindly to being interrogated.” With that, he resumed hauling his heavy load.

  Cletus and Tavis were once again at a loss. They just did not know what to make of this strange owl and his infuriating attitude.

  Tavis realized that after two meetings, the owl still hadn’t told them his name. He called out after the owl, “Hey, the least you can do is tell us your name!”

  The Burrowing Owl decided that he would give them this much. Without turning around, he dropped his mice
momentarily and said, “If you must know, the name is Tarn.”

  At the southwestern edge of the desert, Hiram was getting ready to turn in. He tucked himself into the back corner of his burrow and shut his eyes. As he began to drift off to sleep, he heard a loud and familiar scratching. His new neighbors were excavating—again!

  “The nerve of some owls!” Hiram said to no one in particular.

  He noticed that the source of the noise sounded closer than ever. He leaned his head toward the back wall of this hollow.

  “It’s all going as planned,” Hiram heard an owl say.

  “Excellent,” replied another.

  His beak dropped open in outrage. Hiram could hardly believe it—they had dug so close to his burrow that he could hear their voices right through the earth! He couldn’t help but listen.

  “Tarn will be pleased. As will Her Pureness. The army of the Pure Ones will be stronger than ever.”

  “The PURE ONES?!” Hiram couldn’t help but say out loud.

  The Pure Ones were infamous all over the Northern and Southern Kingdoms these days. Word had spread about their monstrous moonfaced leader and the terror she brought with her. Hiram had heard that they had recently been defeated, that what remained of them had been scattered throughout the Southern Kingdoms. Could it be that some of them were here in the Desert of Kuneer, just a thin earthen wall away?

  As Hiram contemplated this, the owls on the other side of the wall fell silent.

  Suddenly, dirt and sand exploded in Hiram’s face. He fell back in shock. When he cleared his eyes, there was a Barn Owl crouched in front of him. Hiram had never seen a Barn Owl up close in all his days in the desert, much less in his own burrow. The Barn Owl lowered her head menacingly and squinted her brown eyes at the Burrowing Owl, who was half her size. Hiram instantly knew that the Barn Owl was not there for a pleasant chat. He turned to run. Before he could take a single step, the Barn Owl reached out with her talons and slashed at him. Hiram fell. Blood ran from his nape where she had cut him, and soaked into the earth. As he lay there, feeling the life drain from him, the Barn Owl smiled and whispered to him, “That’s right, old-timer, the Pure Ones are here.”