The Siege by Kathryn Lasky

pain.
    “What’s your name?” Digger asked.
    “Hortense,” the Spotted Owl replied.
    “Hortense!” Soren and Gylfie both shouted at once. Soren forgot his pain entirely.
    “You can’t be Hortense, that’s a female name. You’re a male,” said Ruby.
    “In the forest of Ambala, it doesn’t matter if you are a female or male. It is a great honor to be named Hortense. She was a hero beyond compare. A hero is known by only one name in Ambala—Hortense.”
    The little Spotted Owl had settled down on the branch as he spoke. Now, perhaps moved by his own words, he felthe should try to do something heroic to live up to his name. “I know where there are some fat worms that might feel good on that broken tail-feather shaft. Would you like me to get some?”
    “Oh, that would be very good of you,” Gylfie said.
    “I’ll go with you,” Digger offered. “The more worms, the better.”
    Haunted or not, the hollow felt good—even with the fishy smell. Soon Digger and Hortense were back with the worms. Otulissa and Gylfie arranged them as best they could at the base of Soren’s tail feathers.
    “I wish Mrs. Plithiver were here.” Gylfie sighed. “Nest-maids are so much better at this than we are.”
    Although the worms relieved the pain, Soren seemed to grow feverish as the day continued. An infection had set in. When night fell, he was thrashing about and certainly not fit to fly. It would simply be too dangerous for him to journey in this condition. So they decided to stay. Toward midnight, Soren’s breathing became uneven and labored. He seemed to be straining for each breath. The six owls were scared now, as scared as they had ever been. An unspoken thought swirled among them: Is Soren dying? This could not be happening after all they had been through. They had fought Metal Beak and the Pure Ones.
    They had been to St. Aggie’s and escaped. Soren himself had slashed Finny’s neck wide open. No, Great Glaux, it simply could not be happening. But the sound of Soren’s breathing was terrible. It seemed to shake the entire tree. They watched as his breast heaved with each breath. His eyes would blink open and closed, then blink open and look out, not recognizing anything. The owls were desperate. When Hortense came back with a new supply of worms, Twilight stepped out on the branch.
    “The worms aren’t working. Is there anything else we can do? Are there any nest-maid snakes around that could help us? Anybody at all?”
    The owl thought for a moment. There was one place he could go, but it was scary. It was the aerie where two strange eagles lived with an even stranger owl named Mist. They were not particularly welcoming and Hortense’s parents said it was best to leave them alone. A lot of crows lived up that way as well. And there was a grove of trees on the way to the aerie that was infested with flying snakes. They did not have wings or even wing flaps like certain flying squirrels, but they could sail through the air in spectacular leaps and coils, twists and turns, gliding from treetop to treetop. And they were considered terribly venomous. But there were some who said that small dosesof their venom could have curative powers. Still, it was risky, for they were known to be hungry and mean. The eagles had made their peace with the flying snakes. But they were the only birds who had.
    “Isn’t there anything you could do to help us?” Gylfie had stepped up to Hortense. She was shaking with grief and fear. “We have to save him.”
    Hortense shook his head. “I…I…can’t do anything.” He turned away and flew off. He knew that the Barn Owl would be dead by morning.
    Hortense flew around and around though the forest. For some reason, he could not face going home just yet. His parents had a new set of hatchlings who would be yip-ping away, demanding food and attention. He kept flying about. He wondered if one of the new hatchlings would be named Hortense. That would be hard to take. He thought