looked apprehensively at Poot. In a flash he had lifted off and vanished.
“What are we gonna do, Poot?” Silver asked, a slight tremor in his voice.
“Not much choice, as Ruby said. Just hope we don’t disturb any scrooms.”
“Scrooms!” Nut Beam and Silver wailed.
“Well, I don’t believe in them,” Martin said and stomped his small talons into the moss-covered ground. Then, as if to prove it, he lifted off and began to search for a tree to light down in.
“You mind what tree you choose. You don’t want to disturb a scroom,” Poot called after him. But Soren thought that maybe after having been sucked up in a rain band, then dropped into the sea, a scroom was nothing to Martin.
Scrooms were disembodied spirits of owls who had died and had not quite made it all the way to glaumora, which was the special owl heaven where the souls of owls went. Nut Beam and Silver, however, had begun to cry uncontrollably.
“Pull yourselves together, both of you,” Otulissa exploded angrily. “There’s no such thing as scrooms. An atmospheric disturbance. False light. That’s all. Strix Emerilla has written about it in a very erudite book entitled Spectroscopic Anomalies: Shifts in Shape and Light.”
“Yes, there are scrooms!” the two owlets hooted back shrilly.
“My grandma said so,” Nut Beam said defiantly and stomped a small talon on the moss.
“I’ve heard enough about your grandmas,” Otulissa snapped. “Poot, how long do we have to stay here?”
“Until the hurricane blows through. Can’t take these young’uns” – he nodded towards Silver and Nut Beam – “out in this. Too inexperienced.”
“You’re making us stay here – with scrooms?” Nut Beam protested. And as if on cue, Silver started to wail again.
Ruby flew up and then lighted directly in front of the two owlets. She looked almost twice her size as her rust-coloured feathers had puffed up in the manner of owls who are extremely angry. In the pale eerie white of the forest, Ruby looked like a ball of red-hot embers. “I’m fed up with all your whining. I don’t give a pile of racdrops if there’re scrooms here. I’m hungry. I’m tired. I want a nice fat rat or vole. I’ll take squirrel if I have to. Then I want to go to sleep. And you two better shut your beaks because I’ll make your life more miserable than scrooms ever could!” The other owls looked at Ruby with astonishment.
“I think we need to organise a hunting party,” Otulissa said.
“Yes, yes, immediately,” Poot said. He began to flutter about the group. “Now, there’s no telling what one can find in such a woods.”
It was obvious to Soren, Ruby and Martin that Otulissa had embarrassed Poot, who might be a terrific flier but not a natural leader. They felt the absence of Ezylryb more than ever.
But then Poot seemed to be jarred into action. He swelled up with authority and tried his best to sound like a leader. “Soren,” Poot said, “you and Ruby can cover the northeast quadrant of this woods. You fly it hard now, young’uns. We got some hungry beaks here. Martin and Otulissa can cover the southwest one. I’ll stay here with the young’uns.”
“Ha!” Ruby gave a harsh sound and ascended through the branches. “I think Poot’s scared of scrooms. That’s why he sent us out. You scared, Soren?” They had gained some altitude now and the strange mist that floated through the white trees below seemed to evaporate.
“Sort of,” Soren said.
“Well, at least you’re honest. But what do you mean by ‘sort of’?”
“I think the idea of a scroom is not so much scary as sad. I mean scrooms are supposed to be spirits that didn’t quite make it to glaumora. That’s kind of sad.”
“I guess so,” Ruby said.
Guess so? Soren blinked at Ruby. He thought it was terribly sad, but Ruby wasn’t the deepest owl. She was a fantastic flier and a great chaw mate and lots of fun but, although she felt things in her gizzard like all owls, she was not given to reflecting deeply. But now she surprised him. “How come they don’t make it to glaumora?”
“I’m not sure. Mrs P said that it was because they might have unfinished business on earth.”
“Mrs Plithiver? How would she know? She’s a snake.”
“I sometimes think that Mrs P knows more about owls than owls do.” Soren cocked his head suddenly. “Sssh.” Ruby shut her beak immediately. She, like all other owls, had great respect for the extraordinary hearing abilities of Barn Owls. “Ground squirrel below.”
There were actually three in all. And Ruby, who was incredibly fast with her talons, managed to get two in one single slicing swipe. They were more successful than Martin and Otulissa, who had only come back with two very small mice.
“Hunter’s share,” Poot said, nodding to the four of them. It was customary that the owls who did the hunting got first choice of the catch. Soren chose a thigh from his ground squirrel. It was rather scrawny, and it wasn’t the most flavourful ground squirrel he had ever eaten. Maybe a spirit wood wasn’t the best place for a ground squirrel to get plump and juicy. Then Soren had a creepy thought. Maybe they fed on scrooms or perhaps scrooms fed on them – spirit food. His gizzard hardly had to work to pack in those bones and fur.
By the time they had finished eating, the night was thinning into day. Although with the mist that seemed to wrap itself through the branches of the white-barked trees, Soren thought that it seemed like twilight in these woods.
“I think,” Poot announced, “it’s time for us to turn in. Not for a full day’s sleep, mind you. We’ll leave before First Black. No fear of crows around here.” He slid his neck about in a slow twist as if scanning the wood.
“No. Just scrooms,” Nut Beam said.
“Nut Beam, shut your beak,” Martin screeched fiercely.
“Now, now, Martin! Don’t like that tone, lad,” Poot said, trying to sound very—
Very what? wondered Soren. Like Ezylryb? Never like the Captain.
“Well, I’ve been doing some thinking,” Poot went on to say. “And I think that this being a spirit woods as some calls ’em, I think it’s best that we keep to the ground for sleeping, no perching in them trees.” He swivelled his head around in a slow sweeping movement, as if he were almost trying to push back the bone-white trees that surrounded them.
A hush fell upon the group. Soren thought he could hear the beat of their hearts quicken. This scroom stuff must really be serious, he said to himself. Even Ruby looked a little nervous. For an owl to sleep on the ground was almost unheard of, unless, of course, it was a Burrowing Owl who lived in the desert, like Digger. There were dangers on the ground. Predators – like raccoons.
“I know what you be thinking,” Poot continued nervously and seemed to avoid looking them in the eye as Ezylryb would have. “I know you’re thinking that for an owl to ground sleep ain’t natural. But these ain’t natural woods. And it’s said that these trees might really belong
