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and surveyed the frozen landscape from the air. There! She finally spotted what she had been looking for. In the distance there was a pop of color—swirls of emerald and chartreuse—against the dull, colorless ground of the tundra. The colors could not be mistaken for the muted green of the shrubs and conifers found nearby; they were far too vivid. What Fritha was looking for, and found, was a dye basin—one that belonged to the kraals of the Northern Kingdoms.
    It would not be wise to continue on as a plain-feathered owl, Fritha knew. The kraals, or pirates, of the Northern Kingdoms customarily dyed their feathers in garish hues. Purples, reds, yellows, greens, blues—the brighter the better. To be a natural shade of tawny brown, black, white, or gray would, ironically, make an owl conspicuous here. And you did not want to be conspicuous among the kraals. Kraals were the thugs of the Northern Kingdoms, and their bad reputation was well deserved. They fought for no side. They fought to steal, often to capture for ransom, and sometimes—Fritha hated even to think of it—to kill. They were more dangerous than hireclaws, who worked alone and fought for any side willing to pay them, because these pirates stuck together as a band, and thus had become much more advanced in their attack strategies.
    Fritha landed next to the dye basin. She pulled a feather from her starboard wing. What a shame , she thought, that one would have made a fine quill. She dipped it carefully in the green dye and began painting the top of her head. Always take extra care when painting your head and face; don’t just go dipping your head into the dye unless you want to look like an ugly parrot. She remembered those instructions well. When her head was painted in streaks of emerald and chartreuse, she worked on the rest of her body. She dipped both her wings in the dye and painted her chest. Then she painted the wings themselves. She hopped to a slab of issen vingtygg, or deep ice, that had been polished to a mirror finish near the dye basin. It was no surprise that such a mirror would be found here. The kraals were infamous for their vanity, and kraals who just finished dying their feathers would want to take a good long look at the result. Fritha noted that the two shades of green were eye-poppingly bright—lurid, garish, and downright ostentatious. In other words, perfect. She knew that these particular shades were created using something called tundra nuggets mixed with the sap of pine trees and the oil from pine nuts. Other colors like reds and purples were made with various berries and flowers. If only the kraals put their dye-making knowledge to better use. She used similar dye- and paint-making techniques at the great tree, but she never used those dyes on her feathers; they were only used for illustrations in books. She took another long look at herself. Yes, she looked sufficiently kraal-like, she decided.
    Fritha headed east, deeper into kraal territory. As she neared her destination, she spotted another dye basin off her port wing. This one was pink and violet. She made a quick circle over it. As much as she admonished the kraals’ vanity, she did always like that shade of pink. There was no time to stop today to add another color to her already painted feathers. Fritha flew on. She knew she was but a few wing beats from her destination.
    Though they were well hidden from view, the ground nests in which owls in this region lived were easy to spot for an owl who knew where to look. Fritha found the bulges of the nests in between and underneath the boulders that sat on the vast spongy surface. The mosses, lichens, and low shrublike plants that lived in the tundra made these nests quite comfortable.
    Now, where was that nest? The boulders were hard to tell apart. As Fritha scanned the rock formations below, she saw an owl poke its head out from between two boulders. She guessed that it was a Long-eared Owl, but it was so elaborately painted