Garnia of the Golden Talons

[Abaila]

Garnia of the Golden Talons
PROLOGUE

A great horned owl swooped down gracefully upon the gentle thermals, tired of the blazing winds of the north. She pressed on beside her mate, and knew that she was going to have to light down sometime.

By this time, Kloi and her mate Jhord'n were in the Beaks, a desolate land filled with odd formations and demonic temptations. Jhord'n briefly swoopd down to grab a pair of voles feasting on a rare blade of grass in the open. Away from the devilish Mirror Lakes, this was a rare gift for both the voles and the owls. There wasn't going to be much food until the two reached a place beyond the scorching Barrens, these Hagsmirish, cracked deserts, and Tyto.

After that brief break from their travels, the two owls carried on, longing for water, but not daring to go back to the temptation of the Lakes.

But then it was all much better.

Kloi and Jhord'n burst into a sudden moss-filled, green forest. Everything that they could possiby need was here! All the moss, all the prey that must reside here! Several ancient trees with hollows dotted the younger, less elegant wooding. Kloi led her husband into a large fir tree covered in springy rabbit's ear moss.

And then it was time. The owl Kloi was now in a good place to raise her chick. She grabbed the egg out of the down-filled pouch she had strapped to her right underwing, and gently placed it in the corner of the hollow. The down gently floated down as she shook it out, and Kloi added some moss from outside to the loosely built nest.

But they were not going to be able to relax. Jhord'n spotted an ugly barn owl swooping forth, his talons clad in iron. A death screech raked the forest as several more followed, also wearing battle claws.

This would be the last time Jhord'n would breath. He desperately tried to protect his mate, but he knew it was useless. His heart was torn straight from his heart, and blood burst into the hollow. It was all because of the young owl's overprotective personality...

The wreckless Kloi burst forth, wanting revenge for the death of her dear mate. She gracefully lept into the air like a feathery flame, and got hold of the ugly leader of the other barn owls, only to be ripped to shreds. It had been a hopeless struggle, even if the great horned owls had been stronger and larger. The barn owls had weapons. Unusually strong weapons for their time...

The one thing that was left of the owls was the egg hidden in the moss and down. It was an old egg, almost ready to hatch.

Unfortunately, whatever hatched out would not have parents... how would it live? Would it even hatch?

[Abaila]

Garnia of the Golden Talons

Chapter One- The Dawn Hatching

Late, late in the night, the egg that had been left behind began its hatching. It struggled for several minutes, the inside owl crawling around in order to get a grip on a good part of the shell. After shaking around for several minutes, the eggtooth broke through, a crack echoing against the walls of the hollow. Twilight passed as the owlet slowly struggled, cracks growing longer across the milky white eggshell. Eventually, it was the end of the twilight, and the red dawn appeared almost as if on que by the breaking of the egg. The Great horned owl struggled out of the mess left behind, only to scrabble to the ground, with no sight. Eventually, its eyes opened, a dusky gray-brown color that would not clear for about an hour.

But until then, the owlet was mystified at the world. The great red dawn was a beautiful sight against the green canopy of the elegant old trees. The one thing that confused the owlet was this though: where were its parents? After being carried around for so long... It was confusing, but the owlet was horrified when it wondered around even more of the hollow, hopping around the great moss piles. Two great horned owls lay mauled, a male and a female. The little owlet shook, almost going yeep and falling back at the sight. It knew that they had to be its parents.

The owlet stepped back, suddenly tired. It gathered into the soft moss, falling asleep for several hours.

***

While the owlet was slumbering, there was an owl swooping strategically through the crisp, warm air of the unknown forest, on a search for lost owlets. Going hollow to hollow, the masked owl eventually found the lost chick.

He glided in on the warmer thermals, and landed in the mossy hollow of the old fir tree.

What Borkin saw was a horrible sight indeed. His black eyes scanned across the hollow, looking at a helpless great horned owlet and its dead parents. Blood stained the wooden floor.

Borkin ruffled his gold and brown plumage. His red-tinted facial masks ruffled in an emotion of sadness.

"Hello, young one." Borkin stepped closer to the female owlet. "How did you live?"

The owlet did not reply, but she opened her eyes, and peered up at the large, unknown owl curiously with her now-amber eyes. She noticed that she was now covered in down and was completely dry.

"You don't know much, do you? I'll have to get you an insect... you must not have known your parents at all, young'n."

The gold masked owl gracefully jumped out of the hollow, taking flight, and glided away. The owlet had become warmed to this new owl. He didn't seem bad. There was a sparkle in his deep, dark red eyes that let her know that he was a kind and honest owl. The little owlet waited for the masked owl to come back in with a nice meal for both of them.

Soon, the owl swooped back in, a somewhat medium-sized vole in his beak, and three grasshoppers in his talons. He dropped one in the little owlets's mouth, and yet she was still hungry. He dropped another, and then the last. Finally the little owlet was fed.

"First insect ceremony! How do you feel, young'n? I'm sure you're very happy. It's an exiting event!" Borkin exclaimed exitedly. He wasn't the best at raising a child, but he was looking for this sort of thing, because if one owlet died of starvation, it would be a horrible thing, especially in this unknown forest where he heard a danger to owls had grown.

The young owlet chirped and fluttered around happily as Borkin began cleaning the hollow. He grabbed the two dead owls as best as he could, and found another hollow in a great old tree, even older than the fir, laying it in one of many hollows and covering it them with dirt from the ground, cones from the fir, and nice rocks. He took bundles of moss from the owlet's hollow at a time, and dumped them out onto the ground, knowing that the blood was not healthy if it was left to rot in the hollow. Nature would take care of the blood better if it was not confined, and bacteria would not harm the owlet now that the moss is gone. Borkin grabbed a bundle of fresh moss, wetting it, and scrubbed away at the floor, often scraping it with his sharpened talons to get the more thick blood out. He repeated this several times until the floor of the hollow was no longer reddened with blood, but green with the leftovers of the moss. He tossed that out with the bloody moss too, and gathered tons of new rabbit's ear moss to create a comfortable nest for the chick and himself. He also plucked down from his chest to make it even softer.

"Glaux, what a mum I am right now! Then again, I DO have to work both jobs..." Borkin mumbled to himself.

The little owlet churred at him, beginning to understand some of the words Borkin said.

Two weeks later, she could speak Hoolian, was pricked by her flight feathers starting to grow in, knew all the legends by heart, and was now old enough to somewhat take care of her plumage and such. She could also stomache fur now, which is an important ceremony for owls.

"Say, I never did name you. When were you born? Do you remember?" asked the young, kind Borkin.

"I barely remember it, but it was a beautiful red dawn... A striking sight, and that is a reason I remembered it, because it was the most beautiful thing." said the owlet.

"Ah..." Borkin imediately thought of a word of importance in his family. Garnia. It meant "red dawn" to the great horned owls, but he and his family knew this because his da was the greatest friend of a great horned owl. It must be a wonderful thing, garnia. Borkin had heard what was beautiful about a red dawn, but he had never seen it for himself. He thought of waking up early to see it, the very first light of day. "I've thought of a good name- Garnia sounds wonderful. It means "red dawn", and you were born on garnia."

"That's a wonderful name, Da... Garnia..." the young owl said, softly mumbling her name again. Red dawn.

Another week later, Garnia could consume bone and swallow a squirrel whole. Her wings were nearly fully developed, and she was branching right now.

Borkin instructed what Garnia had to do. She fluttered up, a bit too loud. Her plummels weren't perfectly developed yet, but if she was good enough, she could be quiet. And Garnia knew that she had to be quiet, because that was what owls were known for, and if she flew loudly, it ould be a bad habbit, anyway.

Eventually, another week passed, and Garnia's wings were fully developed. It was time for her first flight ceremony, and Borkin was cheering her on.

/This is so exiting/, thoguht Garnia. She remembered the first time she had met the masked owl. She silently thanked Borkin for being such a great owl to her, and raising her into who she was now. But her character wasn't quite forged yet... she still had so much to go through to make her into a better owl. Garnia knew this, but she still felt that Borkin was a great part of her personality.

"Come on, here we go! You'll start with a powerful down stroke to take you off the ground," explained Borkin, demonstrating what Garnia had to do.

Garnia flapped down powerfully, taking herself off the ground. She screamed frantically and landed again.

"That was awesome!" burst Garnia, her exited personality showing.

"Hahah. You need a bit more control, but to help you with this, I've got to teach you how to continue flying. Well, after that, you have to do an upstroke so you don't go to far up. Then, you hover, you go do an upstroke, downstroke, upstroke, downstroke, and you keep each at equal length." Borkin said, demonstrating yet again.

Garnia did the powerful downstroke and another upstroke, just as powerful, causing her to land heavily on the branch, nearly falling off. She tried again, this time successfully, being able to keep herself up.

/Up, down, up, down.../, thought Garnia, getting better at her control as she went on.

"Good, good! Now, to keep flying straight ahead, you want to direct your wings differently. Push them moreso foreward and back than up and down. When it comes to turning, your tailfeathers are important. You have to direct them oposite of where you are going," said Borkin, doing what he said again.

Garnia failed the first few times, but she eventually got it, and when she got it, she never forgot. Later in the night, Borking tested her again and again after letting her rest. Each time, Garnia got better and better at flying.

"Tomarrow, I'll have to take you off to hunt!" said Borkin exitedly. He remembered the first night he had found Garnia now. It seemed like time passed so fast. Suddenly, it was near the end of spring, and summer would come soon, with tons of prey waiting for the owls.

The next night, it was time. Borkin had taken Garnia with him to hunt, and it was a great time because late-spring prey was wonderful. It wasn't too fat or too skinny. Just perfect for taking an owl for their first hunt.

The delightful spring night of the unnamed forest let its fresh breeze brush through the two owls' feathers and down. Borkin spotted a vole munching on the old bloody moss exactly outside of their hollow, and showed Garnia how it was done.

"Just watch me, and it should come to you naturally!" said Borkin.

Garnia watched, almost studying the movements of the nice owl. She was already excited again, and couldn't wait until she spotted some prey. And when she DID spot a small mouse scattering across the floor, she dove down to grab it. However, excitement made her sloppy, and she was off by only a small bit. A raccoon suddenly jumped out into the hollow, and Garnia almost went yeep, staying still for a few seconds before Borkin swooped down and screeched loud enough to alert Garnia. Garnia scrambled up into the air, and barely made it up before the raccoon could snatch her up and eat her.

"You need to be more careful," said Borkin. "There's a reason owls tend to stay off the ground as long as they can while hunting. There are too many dangers down below, and you can't blame anybody if you end up getting eaten. Now come on, let's continue."

Garnia and Borkin kept on hunting for while when Garnia spotted a squirrel perched up on a branch, looking around at its suroundings. Garnia dove stragiht towards it and caught it in her beak, breaking the neck. She gobbled it down quickly.

"Nice catch," Borkin told Garnia.

They took a small break, and Borkin ate his vole. However, the peace was broken when a barn owl spotted them.

"Borkin, who's that?" asked Garnia quietly.

"Garnia, hide, now!" Borkin said quietly. He dropped himself lower in the tree until he could fly out from under. But he stayed for a few moments. When the barn owls didn't leave, he spoke to Garnia again.

"We have to fly away from here without them noticing us," he said, panicked.

"Why?" asked Garnia. She didn't know a thing about what was going on right now.

"Because they're the pure Ones," whispered Borkin. "They're after you and I, specifically you. They would love to rip you to shreds. As to why they're after me, it's because I left them a long time ago. I didn't want to stay with them. They're ruthless owls, and even worse, they're racist. They don't except anyone besides tytos, and even then, you're only truly valued if you're a barn owl. Now come on, we have to go, now!"

Garnia hesitated.

"But why have I never heard of them if they're ruthless and important to know about?" asked Garnia, feeling a bit betrayed by her father. After all, he had been a part of them. Yes, a violent, racist group. She wasn't so sure about trusting Borkin anymore, but there was still a part of her that loved him.

"Because you were too young to know. In this case, it's true, and the proper excuse. They're new, but they already have a violent history, and it's not a good thing to teach to young owls. I'd still give you a nightmare if I told you all of the details. Trust me, no owl is fearless against the Pure Ones. And those who are are usually known to be idiots. But we have to go, now. Come on. Don't be stubborn! It's going to get you killed one day," panicked Borkin quietly.

Garnia took off, leaving Borkin behind a little. Borkin hurried to follow her, and was about a mile away from Garnia, but he still saw her. However, before he could catch up to her, the barn owl saw him. And while he had not been paying attention, his friends had joined, and they had overheard Garnia and his conversation.

/Why did I forget about barn owls having the best hearing in the forest?! I put Garnia in danger again... And now I don't think I'll ever be able to get out of it!/, thought Borkin.

Garnia stopped imediately when she noticed that Borkin had been left behind. She backtraced where she had gone quickly and silently glided through the canopy, until she could see Borkin from a distance.

"No! I won't tell you where she went! I don't even know! I- I don't even know..." Borkin said, frightened and panicked. He knew that he was going to be torn apart visciously, even more violently than what they would do to an owl like Garnia.

"You do know where she went, and that's the truth. Now tell us, where is she?" asked the largest barn owl, a shaggy white male whose talons were stained with soot, like those of a smith. The battle talons he donned were long, thick, and sharp. They were made of bright, bright silver, that almost blinded Garnia just looking at them next to his sooty, dull feet.

"I honestly dont..." Borkin said, with a hint of giving up.

"We know just what to do with you," said a female owl next to the largest slyly. It was clear she was his mate, as her talons were clad with the same silver battle claws. She was the same exact size, but her feathers were mainly a deep shade of red. Her white facial disk was shaped like a full moon, and there was something elegant about her that Garnia couldn't put her talon on.

Borkin let himself drop. His body went limp as if he had just given up on life and died then and there. Had he really been such a depressed owl before Garnia met him? Borkin had always been the cheery, informative type. But never had Garnia seen this suicidal side. Maybe it was because she was still a meer chick. Yes. Life was just a flash of light, and then she would die. Would she even learn anough before she died?

Garnia suddenly jumped when she saw what the other barn owls did to Borkin. She saw his heart torn from his chest, and he was sliced to ribbons until nothing was left.

Garnia turned away and flew off. Where was she going? Nowhere. Everything to her now was a vast plain of all the same, and she would never get to where she wanted to go. Where did she want to go, anyway? She didn't even know that.

The only owl she had ever known was dead. Garnia was deeply upset. Her excited personality gave way for a few nights as she wondered off into the distant skies, letting herself starve, not seeing anything.

Well, that is, until she ran into a owl.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" shouted a silvery great gray owl. She looked down at a Garnia as the two hovered in the sky. "I thought you great horned owls had eyes like the rest of us. I gues not. Huh."

Garnia simply flew in place, confused. Who was this great gray owl? Why was she so rude?

[Abaila]

Garnia of the Golden Talons- Chapter Two: Ambala the Great Gray owl

"Who in Hagsmire are you?!" exclaimed Garnia, landing herself on a tall, slim spire of granite. Suddenly, she felt sunlight spill onto her feathers, and the warmth flooded into her like spilling ink, as it had been a very cold night. This warmth lent her self-awareness again, and she suddenly realised she was in the canyonlands! Far west of her home, she felt extremely embaressed.

"I'd be Ambala the Great Gray Owl. But if I tell you who I am, then who are you?" asked the great gray owl, peering down with those glowing yellow eyes of hers, landing on another great wall of stone near Garnia.

"I'm Garnia... I'm not sure where I was supposed to be raised, why I'm like how I am today, why I exist, why my father died..." Garnia's voice gently trailed off into the distance.

"Yes, yes, I'm very sorry for you, but you don't need to tell me your life story," churred Ambala, her silver feathers lightened by the golden sun as it rose.

"O-okay?"

"Garnia, do you need me, or are you just gong to leave?"

Garnia suddenly phased out of the conversation as the rosy red sky rappidly faded to black. Hundreds, no thousands, maybe even millions of crows mobbed down from the sky, a hellish sight that made Garnia go yeep.

"What's wrong, Garnia?" asked Ambala. When she saw the great black gap edged by thousands of blades, she became very panicked, and her first instincts were clear, even in body language.

"FLY AWAY!!! They're going to get us, rip us to shreds if we stay here!" screamed Ambala, in a tone very odd for her owl species.

Garnia was stuck in the zone of watching these foul creatures.

"Oh, for Glaux's sake!" exclaimed Ambala. She clutched Garnia in her talons, rappidly flying off into the black storm of crows.

Through great towers of granite, through the spindly oaks of the spirit woods, and even over the sea, the powerful spirit of Ambala knew no physical limits. Mentally flawed she was, but that is the case for everyone, isn't it? Flawed as her character was, she had one great body. The strength of the wingbeats was almost unnatural, and how could one carry another owl in their talons if they were so busy flying. Garnia soon forgot they were flying away from the evil of the crows as they burst even further into the sea of Hoole. The glistening saphire and little islands rappidly passing by were so beautiful, Garnia felt tears coming to her eyes.

But this would not last long. Soon a great blizzard swept over the sea, and Ambala still knew no limits yet! What was with this power of hers?! Even though Garnia nearly froze from the cold, Ambala glowed silver, darting into a larger island, this time with a great big tree in the middle, surrounded by several little trees, and on a little point that jutted out, a fairly large, dear fir tree clutched onto, like an outcast of the forest.

After this great, but somehow strikingly fast journey, Ambala landed in a hollow near the very top of the great tree, where in a hollow two great snowy owls nestled, several peices of parchment, feathers, and ink bottles scattered throughout.

"Ambala, where did you bring me?! This place- it-it... It looks like the great tree of Ga'Hoole! But can it really be?! This legend has come true... was it true all along? Ambala, you're confusing me... And what was with that sudden burst of energy and power?! What are you, and where did you bring me?" asked Garnia, the sheer amazment in her voice filling the great hollow, bouncing off of the walls in a beautiful echo.

The greatest snowy owl she had seen in her life stood up in her nest, and walked gracefully towards Ambala and Garnia.

"Yes, it is indeed Ga'Hoole, young owl!" she churred, a deep chuckling sound echoing off the walls. "Youngn', I am Queen Byral. Your friend Ambala is actually a creation of the heavens... though the ages of the legend of Hoole are over, there is still a great tear in the skies. A tear where all sorts of Glauxian creatures can drop from, and do anything they wish. Ambala was created by Glaux to have the power of a god, and yet the mind and body of any averadge animal. That will explain why exactly she could get you here so fast. And we should honestly be greatful that she's on the side of the Guardians, because if she wasn't... well, then we'd be frinked!"

Another snowy owl jumped out of his pure white feathers, untoutched by the inky blots on his mate's feathers.

"Byral, not in front of the children!" he clucked nervously, waddling ahead. Unlike Queen Byral, this owl was clumsily built, rather chubby of stature.

"Borol, it's not like they'll die. Relax a little while, won't you? Tell squire Jordin to get some milkberry tea for us all. It's horrible out there. Never thought I'd see a summer so bad! Usually, we have such peaceful years that milkberries can be ripe by the middle of summer! We've got it good, but now... We're going to be running short of milkberries next year! We'll have to be using unripe milkberries until those run out, and before we know it, needles off of that beautiful fir on the point to make tea, and it's such a sad thing... There's no other pines on this island, you know. It's a special tree, where owls go to seek privacy. They land in the tree, and they create some of the most beautiful poems on their old crunchy parchment..." the talkative queen trailed off as Borol ordered the young squire to bring some tea.

"Wait! The squire's name is Jordin... Borkin told me of my parents, and how he had been terrified when he had seen them torn to shreds. Father was named Jhord'n... I've heard the Hoolian version of the name. Where did Jordin come from?" asked Garnia, ignoring the rest of Byral's conversation.

Ambala peered at the hollow opening which Jordin had exited in order to get the tea. He'd be back any moment now, probably frinked off at the conversation taking place. It was so simple that he could even be eavesdropping right now!

"Now, now! No need to get suspicious about our squire. He's a kind young man, yes, and he wouldn't take kindly to our suspicion, though. We can't talk about him like that." stuttered Borol.

"I'm not suspisious, it's just odd. Don't worry, I only want to know what's up with the name," churred Garnia. "What do you think, Ambala?"

Ambala remained silent.

/She's been a bit odd during this conversation... I wonder what's going on with her?/, thought Garnia, staring at Ambala for a few seconds before she returned to the conversation taking place at the moment.

"Well, Jordin was an owlet when we found him after a forest fire had blazed out a quarter of Shadow Forest. We were patrolling the area at the time due to a suspicious organization known to traipze around there- the Pure Ones. Around that time, there was also a great horned owl named Jhord'n there. He must be your father, yes, because he looked very much like you as far back as I can recall. There was a young female owl named Jesiya he had fallen in love with. When he heard her name through gossip in the trees, he hurried to where she had been said to live. She didn't take kindly to him at first, but the more they spoke to each other, the more that was found in common. They got closer and closer over the weeks, months, until they decided that they should settle down and have a child. So when their egg hatched, they gave it the Hoolian version of the name Jhord'n. But while he was growing, a group of thuggish Pure Ones eavesdropped. When Jordin was almost a month old, they invaded the place. Jhord'n was cowardly, but he tried to fight to prove that he actually cared for his family. When he saw little Jordin fall as Jesiya's skull was crushed, he flew off as fast as he could to the north so that he could get another mate- probably your mother. You don't know your father very well, as Borkin could only tell you his name and a few of his antics, but he was the kind of owl who would fall in love with somebody, have a child, find somebody more attractive, and abandon his old family. When he finally met his end before you hatched, it was probably for the better. You might very well have ended up like him, or your mother might have saved you. So be grateful you were raised by Borkin, because you'd probably be much different if you had known your father," said Byral solemnly to Garnia.

"But how do you know all this stuff?" Garnia asked, extremely curious.

"There have been troops checking on Shadow Forest for a long time now. After Hoole died and the ember was returned, we had to keep a check on a small gang called the Pure Owls, who eventually grew into the Pure Ones after a barn owl started spreading propoganda. Even right now, we've got a few groups of owls who each take their turns on checking the forest. So naturally, through records on paper, we know the stories of hundreds of owls. You can check the library, if you want to know more about Jhord'n," the queen explained, stretching her wings out.

"Wow... it's amazing how much you have recorded. But what's the status of the Pure Ones right now? I want to have revenge on those burtal owls who murdered Borkin," Garnia replied.

"The current status is that they are a growing organisation. Thanks to them, we now know of a forest tucked next to Tyto. We haven't named it yet, as it deffinately isn't safe for owls to live in. We cannot give it a king like we could for Tyto and the other territories. We haven't made anybody a king of a territory for a while, as a matter of fact. We just can't risk the higher powers being destroyed. A war's about to break out, and it's going to last for quite some time. The more owls we have to train, the better we'll be able to fight. That's why I'm going to ask you, Garnia, if you wish to become a fighter!" Byral said, raising her deep, beautiful voice in excitement.

"I do wish to become a fighter... If it means destroying a major threat, I'll do whatever I have to!" said Garnia, ready for battle even now.

"Then we'll have to give you battle claws. Ambala, I know you have fighting skills, but do you wish to be in this war?" asked Byral.

"Yes," Ambala said quietly, still being unusual and out of character to her normal self.

"Then chose your talons, and become the next warrior of Ga'Hoole!"