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shattering to other vital systems. In fact, sometimes it is not the navigational system that is affected, but the gizzard. The gizzard itself becomes almost like stone, incapable of sorting out feelings and emotions. It can even cause delusions. That is what fleckasia is all about.”
    “Well, is there a book on the humors or these quadrants, so I can find out more?” Otulissa asked.
    “Oh, yes, indeed. Here, let me show you.” Ezylryb made his way toward a far shelf in the library, and Otulissa bustled behind him. The other four owls looked at one another. This was Otulissa’s kind of thing, not theirs. Soren was thankful that Ezylryb had come in. Perhaps if Otulissa began sinking herself into a study of fleckasia, she would ease up on her battle plans for attacking the Pure Ones. She was sure they would be back. She kept saying, “First strike! We must make the first strike!” But Soren knew she would never convince Boron and Barran or any of the parliament members. It was absolutely against the tradition of the Guardians to strike the first blow, certainly not on the scale that Otulissa was planning.
    “Can I come look at the book, too?” Primrose asked.
    Otulissa blinked as did the others. Primrose had never struck them as much of an intellect. “Sure,” said Otulissa.
    “Just want to take a peek,” Primrose said.
    The sun was well up over the horizon by the time the owls made their way to their hollows. Eglantine was tired because that night had been the first long-distance flight she had made in some time. Madame Plonk had begun to sing the “Night Is Done” song, and by the time she reached the second verse, Eglantine was sound asleep.
    Primrose had come back to the hollow she shared with Ginger and Eglantine just after Madame Plonk had begun the song. She had been reading with Otulissa in the library the whole time. Now, as she entered the hollow, Ginger woke up.
    “Where’ve you been?”
    “Reading in the library,” Primrose answered.
    “Must have been interesting.”
    For the second time ever, Primrose lied outright. “Oh, just doing some of those game and riddle books that Eglantine loves so much.” She looked over and blinked at her best friend. Then she turned again to Ginger and whispered, “I do hope she stops having those dreams. Iknow she says they are lovely but I think they’re not. She twitches all night long when she has them.”
    “Yes,” said Ginger sleepily. “I know what you mean. Sometimes I just get up and pat her, and it seems to calm her down a little.”
    “That’s kind of you, Ginger,” Primrose said. I really must be nicer to this owl, she thought. She’s not so bad. And soon it will be Nimsy night . Everyone always feels better once the earth turns and chases away the sun and lets the nights grow longer. She listened to the end of the beautiful song. The lovely ting of Madame Plonk’s voice now hung like silver chimes in the morning as she sang the next verse.

We thank thee for our nights
’Neath the moon and stars so bright
We are home in our tree
We are owls, we are free
As we go, this we know, Glaux is nigh.

    Soon, Primrose was asleep. Late in the afternoon she heard a stirring and sleepily opened one eye. Ginger was bent over Eglantine. Oh, dear. She must be having one of those dreams and Ginger is patting her. Then Primrose yawned and sunk back into sleep.
    Eglantine was having a dream. She had finally poked her beak through the strands of moss. From behind, the female owl looked exactly like her mother. She was about to say “Mum” when the owl turned around. She did look like her mum! Almost, but not quite. Her face seemed whiter, and there was a seam across it where the feathers parted a bit.
    “I’ve been waiting for you all this time!”
    “You have?!”
    “Yes, darling one!”
    Something seemed to jolt Eglantine in her sleep. Darling. That word sounded odd coming from her mum. It wasn’t a word she used. But still she was drawn in.
    “Who