familiar. Stryker, the best tracker the Pure Ones had, and one of his minions. Uglamore looked over at the hollow where Nyroc was sleeping. It was but a few wingspans away. They’ll see him for sure, Uglamore thought. It appeared that he had led the Pure Ones right to the young’un. Too late to fly away, he lamented.
Stryker and his companion, the Masked Owl named Vaygar, landed on the root of the fallen tree.
“No luck finding him, eh, Uglamore?” Vaygar said.
“What did I tell you, Vaygar?” Stryker scoffed. “Colonel Broody couldn’t find a brown mouse on a field of freshly fallen snow.”
Ah, they haven’t seen him! Maybe there’s still a chance for Nyroc. “No sign of him, Stryker. But shouldn’t you know that? Aren’t you the tracker extraordinaire?” Uglamore hoped that the snow that was rapidly falling had covered up Nyroc’s tracks—the ones he had followed just hours before.
Stryker ignored the flattery but seemed to puff up a bit. “I was on his trail until just south of here. Then this Glaux-forsaken snow began to fall. I saw some fresh tracks, but it was only you,” Stryker complained. “I bet the coward headed east to Ambala, maybe even The Beaks. I’m losing him as we speak. I grow sick of tracking down this little brat. I wish General Mam had just killed the little wretch and been done with it.”
“You’re not going to find him here, Stryker.” Uglamore couldn’t believe that Nyroc was right under Stryker’s beak, and the stupid owl didn’t know it.
“So what are you doing here then?” asked Stryker.
Uglamore couldn’t think of a good answer quickly, but Stryker decided he could answer his own question.
“Oh, right, Shadow of the Shadow Forest,” he said mockingly. “Ha! Missed your childhood home, did you?” Stryker looked around. “By Glaux, what kind of owl would live in a place like this? I’ll tell you, a pathetic one, that’s who.”
“I stopped here to hunt, if you must know,” Uglamore lied. “And if you find this place so pathetic and offensive, then why don’t you leave? Try to pick up Nyroc’s trail, wherever you think he might have gone.”
“I will. I’ll find the hatchling before you do, that’s for sure,” Stryker replied.
Uglamore couldn’t believe his luck! He might have saved Nyroc after all.
Vaygar had been quietly watching the exchange between his two superiors, although he wasn’t giving them his full attention. He realized how hungry he had gotten when he thought he saw something tasty scuttle by.
“Let’s go, Vaygar,” Stryker commanded.
“If you don’t mind, sir, I’d like to find a quick snack before we go. I’m starving, sir.”
Stryker looked at the younger Masked Owl with indifference. “Suit yourself, soldier. You weren’t of much help anyway. I’m headed east; I trust you’ll catch up to me before too long.” He shook out his primaries in preparation for flight.
“Yes, Commander Stryker, I won’t be but a few moments,” Vaygar replied as Stryker took off.
Great , thought Uglamore, just when he thought he was getting rid of them. At least Stryker was gone. He could deal with this soldier.
Vaygar turned his attention to Uglamore. “I’m ravenous,” he said. “It’s such an honor to be sent on this mission with Commander Stryker. I had to leave on short notice—didn’t even have time for tweener. But I’ll track better on a full stomach. With any luck, I’ll catch up with the commander, and together, we’ll bring that little brat back to General Mam. It might be just what I need to be promoted to lieutenant.”
Such a thing will never happen , thought Uglamore. Not only would he do everything in his power to make sure that the “little brat” was left alone, but he also knew that the Pure Ones would never promote a Masked Owl to the rank of lieutenant.
“I think you’ll find the best hunting on the other side of the pond,” Uglamore suggested as Vaygar began to poke around the root of
1796-1874 Agnes Strickland, 1794-1875 Elizabeth Strickland, Rosalie Kaufman