Owlgirl Read online

  Owlgirl

  By Regan S. Thompson

  A Thompson & Friends Book

  Copyright © 2016 by Regan Thompson. All rights reserved. For information, address:

  JGT Consulting, Inc., 1640 Northwind Blvd, Libertyville, IL 60048

  Thompson & Friends book may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases please contact Sales department at: 877-968-4855 x 380 or email: [email protected]

  First Edition: 2016

  March 2016

  I would like to dedicate this book to all the teachers that have taught me in the past, including:

  Mrs. Serrecchia,

  Mrs. Bonner,

  Mrs. Sieroslawski,

  and my family.

  Prologue

  As Oliver soared against the ominous inky black sky, he wondered if he was too late. His beak was parched, and he hadn’t eaten a mouse in a long, long, time. His dark, amber eyes were filled with fear, and he wondered if he could survive the journey. He perched on a rotten, blackened log, unable to go on. He surrendered the sack he carried, sculpted of owl pellets. His last, anxious thought was, Who will take care of the owlets? He wondered this question until finally, the barn owl drifted into a still, dead sleep from which he would never, ever wake up.

  Chapter One

  My name is Regan. Some people call me “Regano” or “Tree Hugger” but my most common name is “Owlgirl”. That’s because I never had a human family. I was born an owlet, in a silver egg. My friends called me Owlgirl because since I was born in an extraordinary egg, they thought that I needed an extraordinary name. My egg was the conversation among the heart faced owls for a long while. The egg was a mysterious, metallic, unnatural color that no one had ever seen before… and no one could figure out why. The most mysterious thing about the egg is that, on one half of the egg, from the inside, there was illustrations carved into the soft shell. And that’s where our story begins.

  Chapter Two

  I grew up in a roost underground with two other owlets. Once hatched, they were dubbed Sport and Crash. I’ll tell you about Sport. Sport is the only reason I’m alive. When I was getting delivered to the roost, the owl that carried me didn’t make it. Soon after that, the owl that carried Sport arrived. There was a hole in the bag, and Sport could see my sack through his peephole, and pecked it until it was large enough for him to crawl out. He took a deep breath, and vaulted out of the peephole! The owl delivering Sport felt the weight of the bag shift, and looked down. He swooped down to save Sport. He clutched Sport in his shiny, black talons and noticed a dead owl down below. He plunged down closer and began to recognize him.

  “Oliver,” he breathed, and gently set Sport down on the grass. The delivery owl noticed the sack I laid in strewn across Oliver’s torso. Breathing heavily, he carried the sack and me, home to the roost in a cave underground where I met Crash.

  Chapter Three

  For a owlet, Crash was surprisingly stalwart. His talons showed plentiful stamina, and the curved lenses of his dark, brown eyes could easily see in the dark, and I could easily imagine how he would pinpoint prey without having to scavenge and strain his eyes. Sport, on the other hand, didn’t look as stealthy. He had dislocated his left foot, and the area around it was irritated, puffy, swollen and red. Sport was going to have to be bathed in special herbs, and the owls that were yet to raise us planned to make him a cast of moss.

  “Why does Sport get special plants?” complained Crash. I glanced at Sport and realized that neither one of us had explained to Crash how hard it had been to survive the way here.

  “We both just had a tough ride here.” I explained. Crash followed my gaze to Sport’s wound.

  “Oh, I get it.” Crash answered.

  “Why are we here?” I wondered aloud. I flopped down on the floor packed with wood shavings. Now it was Crash’s turn to do the explaining.

  “Well, back in the prehistoric times, eggs took decades and decades to hatch. So anything could break our eggs, like egg eating rodents. So Ambassador, my great great great grandfather, decided to bring us into hiding, and this tunnel,” Crash told me, “probably leads to more eggs.” I gawked at the tunnel dead ahead of me.

  “You mean there are more of us?” I gasped.

  “Yeah, probably. My dad also says that the reason we hatch faster in here is because of the heat.” Crash responded, wiping a bead of precipitation of the fluffy, gray, fringe of feathers on his back. “So I think that, basically, we live inside of a giant blowtorch,” he said, gesturing with his talons. But I was no longer listening; I had a theory too. I figured it out. Somehow, we had burrowed right inside of the sun.

  Chapter Four

  Sport was back. There was only one miniscule problem: he wouldn’t let us see his injury.

  “What happened?” Crash asked.

  “Oh, nothing.” Sport shifted uncomfortably, trying to hide a garden of a cast behind his back. I tried to cover my laughter with a bout of coughing.

  “Then why are you standing on one leg like a flamingo?” Crash pressed. Sport hesitated, unfurling his tiny gray wings to set down his leg, revealing a big, green cast of moss so big, he could barely walk. It was bigger than my head. Almost immediately, Crash was drowned in a sea of giggles. “Be sure to water your garden every day, “Crash teased. Sport blushed three shades of pink. Finally, Crash stopped laughing. His dark, liquidy eyes met Sport’s. Sport puffed up his feathers until he was almost as big as Crash. He looked ready to attack somebody. I was about to break in and end the squabble, when a beautiful snowy owl glided in, I assumed, the hunter. A hunter’s job was to hunt prey for the tiny owlets that couldn’t (jobs were assigned all over the sun; guards, messengers, weavers, hunters, egg- sitters etc.). She had turquoise blue eyes, flecked with gold, that seemed to penetrate right through me, a seemingly bioluminescent coat of shimmering feathers, and a hooked black beak. Her gleaming, pointed talons were clutching a large, dead rodent. She plunged down lower and landed beside me. Good, I thought, A distraction. A really good one, too. Heh, heh. Now Crash and Sport won’t tear each other’s heads off. Just as I predicted, they looked up from their argument.

  “Hello,” She greeted me. “My name is Winter. I’m the new hunter.” She spoke softly in a gentle, melodious, voice. And faster than the wind, she unhooked the mouse from her claws, and spread her wings to take off.

  “Wait!” I called. She rotated her head halfway around. “What?” asked Winter.

  “Where are you going now?” I asked, tilting my head to the side questioningly.

  “To provide for the other owlets.” She muttered something under her breath that sounded like “Clueless owlets”.

  “Other owlets? Crash, your theory was right!” I called to Crash, who had decided to try and devour the rat himself while everyone was distracted. Crash dropped the rat, a bit surprised.

  “I was right?” Crash asked. “I was right!” Crash muttered over and over, strutting around the burrow. “I was right.” Winter rolled her turquoise eyes to the ceiling.

  “Yes. It’s dangerous outside, and the millions and millions of eggs laid would never survive. So when they were first laid, it was decided amongst the mature owls that survived to put our species into hiding until THOSE owlets mature, then we set them free to mate and breed, and when they lay eggs, it repeats. There’s still eggs out there,” She shrugged her pearly white shoulders and took off, but not before whirling back around and saying, “All in the name of The Medallion.” Then she disappeared into the blackness of the tunnel.

  Chapter Five

  Me, Sport, and Crash all peered into the tunnel. Our ability to see in the dark hadn’t developed yet. Me and Sport both stared expectantly at Crash.

  “What?” he said defensively.

>   “Can you see in the dark?” Sport asked wonderingly. But even Crash could only see a dim, gray, lighting. We have to follow her, I thought silently, putting one foot on the damp soil. It was our only chance of finding out more about The Medallion. We gradually made our way through. It was a little tricky. In the blackness, I tripped over a small rock. Sport couldn’t hear me, or see me when I fell.

  “Sport!” I warned. “Don’t step on the –“ Sport stumbled over the same rock and landed on top of me. “rock.” In the last few minutes, there had been a fork, and Crash had gotten a little lost. He scavenged and found us.

  “You guys!” Crash approached us. “I’m so glad I found you. Did you find anything interest—“ “Crash!” we yelled in unison, trying to get his attention. We signaled frantically through the darkness; maybe he’d catch a glimpse of what we were saying.

  “Aah!” he cried out, adding the final owl to our pig pile. I groaned loudly. We all rearranged ourselves. Crash flared his wings indignantly. Sport flexed each of his talons with uncertainty as if one of them might snap in two at any moment, and I helped Sport groom his feathers. This was a good time to stop for a break.

  “Hey Crash, do you still have the rat Winter got us?” I asked. Crash nodded, pulling out a dusty, battered garbage can of a meal, but as far as I was concerned, it was a meal fit for a king, and after dividing it up, we devoured it quickly.

  “Phew. What’s next, Owlgirl?” Crash grinned as he used my favorite nickname.

  “Why don’t we keep going?” I asked. “I think we almost found Winter,” So we trudged on and on, until Sport finally yelled,

  “Look! I think I see light!” Indeed, there was a soft, pink glow in the distance. Just seeing it warmed me up, as my thin coat of small, gray feathers didn’t serve much protection against the bitter cold of the tunnel. We hurried toward the light that felt like home and found ourselves in a room surrounded by warmth. It seeped over and into us like an invisible blanket wrapped tightly around us. There were also dozens of eggs. Cream colored eggs waiting patiently in one corner, freckled brown eggs rattling and cracking in front of our eyes, eggs with beaks poking out, but tapping so weakly it seemed they would rather take naps. Bold bronze letters that were practically shouting, “look at me!” read “Horned Owl Hatchery”. In one corner of the room there was a bowl carved of shiny white marble filled to the brim with tiny white mice. I knew I wasn’t supposed to, but I stole three of them for our journey. There were so tiny, they wouldn’t miss them. They were live, so I guessed they were overfeeding them so they could get fat. I tucked them into my wing for later. I wondered why they never made hatcheries for barn owls. We had always hatched on the way to the burrow, like Sport.

  “How is this going to help us learn more about The Medallion?” Crash questioned.

  “Well, I was thinking maybe we could stay here for the night. Just to unwind.”

  “Remind me why we’re chasing some hunter again?”

  “To find out about The Medallion. It’s just one short night,” Most owls that lived inside the sun knew that they check the hatchery once a day, in the morning. So we were safe for a little while. And besides, I was curious about this Medallion. It must have been pretty important if we moved into the sun to raise our baby owls because of it.

  “Is it okay if we pack one of these white mice for tomorrow?” Sport asked. I considered for a moment, ruffling my silvery feathers in thought.

  “All right as long as you don’t take so many, somebody notices.” We both glanced at Crash, who was good naturedly stuffing his beak full of the delicious baby mice who were presumably meant to breed soon. We all looked at each other and each took a single last one to pack for tomorrow. As we did, a newborn burst out of his eggshell, breathless.

  “What did you say about The Medallion?”

  “We need to find out more about it.” I answered, trying to shove all the anxiety out of my voice. I wondered how much we should tell this owlet. I knew barely anything about this, but yet I could feel a small connection between me and The Medallion, like a weak tide flowing between us. The Medallion. My heart seemed to stop beating whenever I heard that name.

  “Well, I think I know a way,” said the owlet. “By the way, my name’s Cooper,” he said. “Follow me.” So we all followed him. Last came Sport, reluctantly dragging behind. As we walked, we chatted. We introduced ourselves.

  “Hi. I’m Regan, but everyone who knows me calls me Owlgirl. That’s Crash,” I said pointing to Crash.

  “Hey,” said Crash uneasily.

  “And that’s Sport,” I continued, pointing to Sport, who was mostly hidden under the bulk of Crash’s feathers. I honestly was a little embarrassed. Why were my friends acting so weird? I had no idea, but Cooper was new, so best to give him, what, at least five minutes to earn our trust? Suddenly, we halted.

  “Why are we stopping?” asked Crash. Cooper scrabbled his talons in the sandy ground and a huge cloud of dust rose to the unlit ceiling. When it cleared, a small flame was lit, revealing a grand wall draped in eggshells.

  “What is this place?” Sport wondered aloud.

  “This,” Cooper bellowed grandly, “is where they put the eggshells of every owl that has ever hatched. He bowed sincerely, and revealed a pearly crust from behind his back, lathered in sap. Cooper’s eggshell, I realized. With an air of great importance, Cooper stuck it on the wall, and then, it too stood before all of us. But I couldn’t help wondering why Cooper had led us there, and it nagged at the corner of my mind.

  “Look!” Crash yelled. Suddenly, his dark eyes as big as saucers, I followed his gaze. I wrapped my wings tightly around my body. I couldn’t bear to look. A single tear rolled down my cheek; I was just so… surprised. Smack dab in the center of the wall was my dazzling silver shell, glimmering in the dim lighting of the blazing inferno. And that was not all. I could read every foreign engraving there was on the shell. Several emotions swirled around in my head. I risked a peek. I read aloud:

  “This egg was laid because as soon as the first owl of the earth hatched a precious artifact was created, The Medallion. But just as rapidly, monstrous beasts stole The Medallion for the power it would bring to their species. So it went, their species got increasing strength and power, and owlkind got weaker. They had no choice but to go into hiding. This egg is our last hope of defeating the Moonbeasts.”

  The Moonbeasts. Those words felt cool and unfamiliar on my tongue. Suddenly a screech tore the silence as easily as a knife cutting through butter. Then it repeated, again and again. It came to me that the blazing inferno Cooper had lit had triggered the alarm. Cooper had done this on purpose. He turned to me with wide, knowing eyes. And he turned and fled. Now guards would rush to the scene and spot us all suspiciously standing here and we would face unimaginable danger. We were mouse thieves, too. And we were forbidden from this part of the sun, and Cooper knew it. We would also be seen as a potential threat to the eggs. I couldn’t believe Cooper had betrayed us. He was an enemy. I could feel the wind being beat against me by strong, muscular egg guard wings. We had no choice but to scramble down the next tunnel as quickly as possible.

  PART II:

  “I can’t believe Cooper ratted us out.” I complained.

  “I can,” said Sport quietly.

  “Yeah, because he seemed like a really nice guy.” Crash said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “I knew he was a traitor when we first met him,” said Crash puffing out his chest.

  “You weren’t fair about it,” I argued. What did he know? “You didn’t even give him five minutes to earn our trust.”

  “Well, look where we are now,” Crash gestured to the dark and forbidding tunnel, our new hideaway. “Searching for something miles away, possibly guards, on our tail, and in the middle of nowhere!” Crash exploded!

  “He was just an owlet!” I cried. They always teach you the sun’s Code of Laws, Rules, and Safety right when your egg is laid. He was just following the rules.

  “Hey! Lo
ok up ahead!” came Sports clear voice from a distance, echoing around the cave walls. I ran my talons along the damp, dusty walls and tried to picture owls, hundreds of them, working together to carve them out. Crash followed closely behind, and their voices echoed back to me like a boomerang.

  “A dead end?” came Crash’s skeptical voice.

  “No…a room,” said Sport. I followed the sound to a dim room where the only light seemed to come from..a statue?

  “Whoa! Look at this!” Crash waddled over to a statue that was carved from beautiful peridot marble, that had been chipped into the shape of a dragon’s eye. He had fallen into a trance. Crash marched sleepily onto a gold tile. It began to give off an eerie glow, a sort of bioluminescence. It pulsed eerily, then stopped. Crash was gone.

  Chapter Six

  I had to ruminate about it for a little while. Sport was nowhere to be seen, and Crash had disappeared into thin air. A trapdoor, maybe? A snare? A portal? Yes! A portal. That had to be it. That weird glowing tile---that could have been the entrance. There was only one way to find out. I gingerly took a step forward. I’m not sure how it happened, but once I started walking, I couldn’t stop. It felt like the floor beneath me was moving. I felt lightheaded, my head was spinning, I was blinded…even so, I caught a glimpse of a blinding flash before I fainted dead away.

  Chapter Seven

  I woke up to humid, dense air and marshy ground. Light seemed to come from the sky. There were huge plants dotted here and there, and brightly colored birds that seemed somewhat owlish, and gave raspy “caw”s swooped from the plants.

  “You are in the rain forest,”said a voice. I jumped, startled but it was only Sport.