Free Sunwing by Kenneth Oppel

the heavy calm that oozed through his body. He looked down and saw Marina, her eyes glazed and serene.
    “Wake up!” he shouted. “Now’s our only chance. Come on! Move!”
    He dropped down beside her, prodding her roughly toward theknothole, then after only a second’s hesitation, nipped her tail.
    “Hey!”
    “Fly!”
    He leaped after her and soared a tight circle to get his bearings. There, the stream. They couldn’t go upstream, only farther down in the hopes it would bring them out somewhere safer. “This is your fault!”
    He turned sluggishly and saw the young owl with the lightning bolts emblazoned on his plumage. He too seemed dulled by the vapor in the forest, his wingstrokes slow and clumsy, so that he listed slightly as he flew. Still, he was coming at them head-on, claws extended for fight.
    Shade and Marina flew. He looked back over his shoulder, and still, the owl was dogging them, and getting within striking distance. Shade tried to cast a sound illusion behind him, but he had no breath left in him, and the image melted before it was even out of his mouth.
    He’d lost the stream, but then suddenly they were over it again, racing with it, as it came out of the trees and disappeared into a high stone wall. It would take them even farther away from their own forest, but what choice did they have now?
    “Into the stream!” he shouted. He tucked his wings, and barely had time to suck in air before he cut the surface and shot into the tunnel. He was blind again, buried beneath the water, with only his own momentum and the current to guide him. He tried again to use his wings, and this time had more success: Keeping them bunched tight, he levered them up and down, and used his tail membrane as well to propel him forward. But it tired him out faster too, and what if there was no end, what if the tunnel kept going on and on under the earth, until his lungs were gorged with water?
    He was through almost before he realized it, head above the water, choking in air. Marina splashed up beside him.
    Even as they grimly clambered out onto the bank, he noticed the heat—a fierce, soaking heat that hung in the air like mist. Overhead were trees he’d never seen before, with strange, broad leaves, and luxuriant fronds. It was drizzling; warm, soft drops of water falling gently.
    He’d barely had time to catch his breath when Marina stiffened. “Look,” she said.
    In the stream, Shade saw a large shape darken the water before breaking the surface.
    The owl had come too. Shade couldn’t decide if the owl looked less, or more, frightening wet. Certainly he looked skinnier, his usually voluminous feathers plastered against his body; but his head, with its matted plumage, looked ferociously gaunt, the eyes and beak even bigger and more vicious.
    Frozen beside Marina, Shade watched as the owl lurched to the bank and wearily hauled himself out. Then his head swiveled, and he looked straight at them. They faced each other warily, no more than twenty wingbeats apart.
    The young owl made a valiant attempt to flare his plumage, but only succeeded in shaking spray from his soggy wings. The piercing shriek that escaped his mouth was, however, more impressive.
    Too exhausted to fly, Shade forced himself not to flinch.
    The owl cocked his head, to the left, the right, laying it almost flat. It was a curious gesture, almost comical, but Shade knew the owl was just measuring the distance to them, preparing for a strike.
    Instinctively, Shade and Marina bared their teeth and hissed, flaring their wings and tripling in size.
    “Go back!” Shade yelled.
    “I’m not afraid of you,” said the owl, but Shade could hear a tremor of uncertainty in his deep voice. The bird glanced down at the mouth of the stream, as if hoping more owls would be coming soon.
    “He’s half feathers,” Shade said loudly to Marina.
    “You’re right. There’s nothing to him.”
    The owl rocked slowly from side to side.
    The heat crawled through