To Believe
Ever since that bloody night, Soren and Gylfie had thought of nothing but flying. It had become abundantly clear to them why none of the owlets of St. Aggie's had the sleek glossy feathers or any of the fluffy down of normal owls who had grown beyond the chick stage. Growing flight feathers for an owl was normally not a complicated business, but deprived of the blood supply, these feathers from the primaries to the plummels would wither and die. With that, stirrings, dreams of flight, notions of skyful joy and freedom shriveled and died as well. Soren and Gylfie's mission was unmistakable: They must learn how to fly despite lacking any opportunity to ever branch, or hop, or practice for flight in any way.
They must keep the dream of flight alive in their minds. They must feel it in their gizzards and in that way they would learn to fly. Gylfie repeated the words of her father to Soren: "He said, Soren, that 'you can practice forever and still never fly if you don't believe.' So it's not just practice, Soren. We must believe, and we can because we are not moon blinked."
"But moon blinked or not, we have to have feathers. And I am still short of flight feathers," Soren replied.
"You are going to have them. You will have enough by the next newing."
"Well, that's just the problem. That's when the vampire bats come back."
Gylfie looked at Soren gravely. "That is why we must learn how to fly before the next newing."
"But I won't be ready. I won't have enough feathers," Soren said. "Almost, though."
"Almost? There's a difference, Gylfie, between almost and enough."
"Yes. The difference is belief, Soren. Belief" The little Elf Owl said the last word so fiercely that Soren took a step back. "You have a large and generous gizzard, Soren. You feel. I know this. You feel strongly.
If any owl can do this, you can."
Soren blinked in dismay. How could he not believe it if this owl, who weighed no more than a wad of leaves, believed so much. It was Gylfie who had the enormous gizzard, not himself So the two little owls began to think constantly about flying. They discussed it whenever they could. They shared memories of their parents lifting out of their nests into the sky. They argued about wing angles and drift and updrafts and a dozen other things they had seen and almost felt as they had watched other owls. They pondered endlessly the stony maze of the canyons and ravines that made up St. Aggie's. They knew that the only way out was straight up, requiring the most difficult of flight maneuvers, especially now that they had no access to Hortense's stone outcropping high in the hatchery. There could be no gradual glide for a takeoff Still, they knew that when they escaped, it was essential to find the highest point possible, the point closest to the sky. And Gylfie continued to feel deep in her gizzard that the library would offer such a place, and that within the library they would discover the secret of the flecks, and in some way this secret would become vital to their escape.
One unseasonably warm day, Gylfie had returned to their station in the pelletorium from a run for new pellets. She was barely able to conceal her excitement. "He's back," she whispered to Soren. "Grimble's back! Get on the next shift with me for new pellets."
That would be easy. It was a snack shift, and if you were on a new pellet run you missed the snack. So no one ever really wanted to go.
Just as the sun reached its high point, Soren and Gylfie stopped walking forward in the Big Crack. They, of course, continued to move their feet as if they were still marching, and the stream of owlets parted around them and moved on as they remained in the same place. Soren blinked. He did not have to look up to feel the piece of blue sky flowing above them. He had passed this point on the trail many times now, and each time he felt refreshed by the very thought of this small wedge of sky so close. He would close his eyes and feel it. When all the owlets had passed, Gylfie gave the signal and they turned down the smaller crack toward the library.
Gylfie marched ahead. Soren was trembling with fear. What if Gylfie's suspicions about Grimble being imperfectly moon blinked were wrong? What if Grimble sounded an alarm? What if they were both seized for the next laughter therapy session? Soren winced and felt a twinge flicker from his down fluff to his brand-new primaries.
Grimble stood in front of the opening to the library. There seemed to be no other owls about. Soren, however, felt the air stir and suddenly realized that it was a breeze. A wonderful thrill coursed through him as it had when he was on the stone outcropping of Hortense's nest. Grimble now turned and blinked at them. Then commenced one of the strangest conversations Soren had ever heard.
"So you are here," Grimble said.
"So we are," replied Gylfie.
"You are conducting yourselves in a dangerous manner," the Boreal Owl said carefully. "Our lives are not worth two pellets here. We have nothing to lose," Gylfie replied. "Brave words."
"Not so brave. Wait until you hear my questions. Then you'll know I am brave."
Soren nearly fainted. How could Gylfie even say the word!
Grimble began to shake almost uncontrollably. "You dare say the Q!
"Yes, and I am going to say the what, the when, and the why, and every other word of a free and unmoon-blinked owl. For we are like you, Grimble."
Grimble began to gag. "Whhh-what?"
"What am I talking about? Is that what you wanted to ask? Say it, Grimble. Ask how I know this. Ask anything you want and I'll tell you with one answer: I feel it in my gizzard."
"Gizzard?" Grimble's face grew dreamy with memory.
"Yes. Gizzard, Grimble. Ours still work. And we know, we sense it -- that you are not moon blinked.
You're faking it just as we are."
"Not completely." The owl blinked. A thin transparent eyelid swept across his eye. Soren knew about these winking eyelids. His parents had told him that when he began to fly, he would find them useful, for they would keep his eyes clear in flight and protect them from any airborne bits of debris. But Grimble was not in flight. No, Grimble was hardly moving. So why was his wink lid flickering madly? Then Soren noticed huge tears gathering at the far corners of his large yellow eyes. "Oh, if only I were perfectly moon blinked. If only I were --"
"Why, Grimble?" Soren asked softly. "Why?"
"I cannot tell you right now. I shall come to you tonight in the glaucidium. I shall arrange for a pass for you. They won't mind as it is now the time of the newing. But let me tell you right now, what you are doing is terribly dangerous. What you are doing could invite a fate much worse than death."
"Worse than death?" Gylfie asked. "What could be worse than death? We would rather die."
"The life I live is worse than death, I assure you."
