Author's Notes: I wrote this whole story over a year ago. I'm revising my grammer as I post each chapter, so I will probably only post one chapter at a time. A sequel was planned, but I haven't read the series in a while and don't remember much about how the owls talk and the places that they live. If I ever get around to rereading the series, I will finish the sequel and post it as well. For now, this story will sit by itself. I hope you all enjoy it, anyways.

Disclaimer: I do not own Guardians of Ga'Hoole, but I do own the characters that were created for my story. Please don't steal any of my characters.

Guardians of Ga'Hoole: Willogren's Story

# 1 The Song of Destiny

Prologue

The Orphan

An owlet was born the night his parents were viciously murdered by the Pure Ones. The Pure Ones were Tyto owls, all of them, and they thought that any sort of owls that were not of Tyto relation were impure. While the owlet's parents fought a few trees away from their hollow, an egg was cracking inside. Luckily, the sounds of battle were too loud for any of the Barn Owls to hear the birth of a small, slime-covered Striped Owl. He cracked his shell with the tiny eggtooth that his mother would have hooted over if she had been there. With a squelch muffled by the cries of two dying Striped Owls, the little male was born into a cold hollow full of down.

He began to cry when a cold wind blew in through the entrance. A shaft of moonlight from the full moon hanging in the sky crossed his tightly-shut eyes. Outside, a group of Barn Owls looked, with smug expressions, upon the two dead owls lying on the forest floor. One spread her wings and flew into the night sky. The other five followed noisily, their beaks clamped so they were not tempted to say a word.

Inside the hollow, the new owlet was chirruping in hunger. He wanted to be rid of the endless feeling in his insides. But the poor owlet would not be tended to until two nights later, when an elderly Boreal Owl flew by and heard his squeaks of hunger.

Huntley had outlived his mate years ago. His once brown feathers were frayed and ghostly white, and his eyesight was beginning to fail him. The night he found the owlet was the night he had decided he would find somewhere calm and quiet to live out the rest of his days, which were growing very short. During his lifetime, Huntley and his deceased mate had at least nine offspring. He was very familiar with the sound of hunger, and this young chick was beyond hungry.

"Hello there, little chap." Huntley lighted down and peered into the hollow where the Striped Owl chick was seated. "You don't need to be worried none. Your ma and da will be bringing you some nice caterpillars soon enough."

The young owlet quivered. It had never heard the voice of an owl before, and it was quite scary. His hunger began to gnaw again and he chirped, opening and closing his beak for food.

"There, there, little chap. Your hunger will be gone soon, don't you worry." Huntley spread his wings to fly away, but the little owlet began hopping toward the edge of the hollow. "Hold on there, little chap! You're not ready for the big outside world yet." Hmm. This owlet is acting very odd. Perhaps he has been abandoned? Huntley thought to himself.

The chick took another hop toward the edge. The closeness between the edge and the chick scared Huntley.

"Right-o, little chap." Huntley stepped into the hollow and carefully forced the chick nearer the back of the hollow. "You stay right here and I'll get you some food. My sight isn't as good as it used to be, but I'm sure I could scratch up some caterpillars for you."

Huntley stepped back out and flew to the bottom of the tree. After a few minutes searching, he found three caterpillars and flew back up to the hollow to deliver them to the hungry chick. "Here you go. Head first, little chap! Always head first!"

The owlet gobbled up the caterpillars without a second's hesitation. This was a very hungry little owl, and a very scrawny one at that. Huntley bent down closer to get a better look. The chick had its cover of down that made it look awfully fluffy, but it was rather skinny.

"You don't seem very fattened up." Huntley stuck his beak into the owlet's feathers to preen him. The chick jumped and waddled away quickly, screeching. "You've never been touched, by Glaux!"

The little owl burped and shivered.

It was then that Huntley decided he'd flown this way for a reason, and that reason had to be this little owlet. With his failing eyesight, Huntley had a hard time determining what sort of owl the chick was, but after some careful consideration, he'd come to the conclusion it was a Striped Owl.

"I wonder what happened to your ma and da, little chap?" Huntley bent down and preened the chick. It screeched again and hobbled away. "You haven't been cared for properly. I'm in my last few days, but I'll try my hardest to bring you up right, young'un. Count on it. I'll not take my last breath until I know you'll be well off without me."

The pledge fell on ears that didn't understand the words, but they seemed to calm the owlet and when Huntley preened the chick again, he didn't move away.

"I guess I should name you," Huntley mumbled. "But I won't for a few days, to make sure your parents do not come back."

The owlet did not hear these words, for he had fallen fast asleep. Huntley's eyes twinkled with merriment at the sight of the chick leaning against his legs as it slept. Yes, Huntley may not be living much longer, but he had a purpose for these last few days of his life. And caring for an orphaned owlet was a perfect purpose.

A few days later, the chick opened his eyes and saw for the first time. His parents had not returned and Huntley reasoned that they never would. Huntley stood at the entrance, looking out at the dwenking moon.

"Well, little chap, I think it's time I give you a name." Huntley watched the owlet staring at him with his wide, dark eyes. "I can't keep calling you little chap, or you'll start to think that's your name." Huntley churred in laughter before settling beside the owlet. "I never knew your parents, young'un, so I couldn't say what name they would've given you. But my mate, Kataya, and I had nine owlets and we were able to name them all."

Huntley sighed and ruffled his feathers in thought. "What about Lardo?"

The chick stared back blankly.

"No. That doesn't seem to fit." Huntley clacked his beak. "Flant? Drot? Vinnar? No, no, no. None of those either. Something longer, I think. Perhaps with a Wh in the beginning. Whilmer. Whalter. Whilks. Willogren. Hmm, I like the sound of that. How does Willogren sound, young'un?"

The owlet chirped.

"Willogren it is, then!" Huntley preened the fluffy down of the newly named chick. "Willogren is a wonderful name. Strong, flexible. It slips out the beak perfectly. Willogren."

And from then on, the little Striped Owl was called Willogren.

Willogren grew quickly. At first, he didn't notice that his "Uncle Huntley" was getting weaker and weaker. That was until Uncle Lee, which was Willogren's nickname for the elderly Boreal, didn't have enough energy to leave the hollow.

"What's wrong, Uncle Lee?" Willogren peered up into the white-feathered face and light brown eyes of the only owl Willogren knew. Huntley had told him that there were other owls out in the world, but Willogren thought the world was only as big as the hollow and the tree they lived in.

"I...can't go out today, Will," Huntley whispered softly. Huntley had used to called Willogren by his full name all the time, but he had shortened it to Will a few days after Willogren had first eaten meat.

"Why not, Uncle Lee? It looks like a pretty night." Willogren looked at the patch of stars he could see through the hollow entrance.

"You don't understand, young'un!" Huntley sighed.

Willogren blinked. Uncle Lee had never used such a fierce tone with him before. "Uncle Lee, you're scaring me!"

"I'm sorry, Willogren." Huntley closed his eyes. "I have lost my sight today."

"You lost what?" Willogren hopped closer to Huntley.

"I am blind. I cannot see," Huntley said. "There is nothing but darkness for me, now."

"How can you hunt without eyes, Uncle Lee?" Willogren cocked his head to one side.

"I cannot. You...will have to learn how to fly soon." Huntley turned his head in Willogren's direction. "Will, come close."

Willogren hopped closer. "I'm here, Uncle Lee."

"Now, listen to me very closely, Will. Remember every word I say. Your...real parents, the ones who gave you life...I did not know them. They were Striped Owls, such as yourself, but that is all I know of them. I found you mere days after you hatched..."

"What's hatched mean, Uncle Lee?"

"Do not interrupt me. I found you, and if I had not, you would not be here." Huntley paused before continuing. "I fed you. I named you. I treated you like my own young. You are my own young. I pledged to you that I would not leave you until I knew you would be well off without me. I fear that I cannot keep that pledge. My body is giving way. I will be dead in a matter of days."

"Dead, Uncle Lee?" Willogren did not know the meaning of the word 'dead.'

"I am going to tell you what to do from now on, Willogren. You will be alone until you learn to fly. You will need to learn how to hunt. Feed on caterpillars until you feel you are ready to hunt for larger prey." Huntley cringed. "Over the next few days, I will teach you the basics you need. I will tell you how to branch and how to fly. But only the basics. The rest will come naturally to you, Willogren."

"Yes, Uncle Huntley." Willogren felt that these last few days with Huntley were going to be the most important. "I will remember everything you say. I'll learn to branch, to fly, and to hunt."

"There's a good boy." Huntley sighed. "I need to rest. You will not have a meal today, Willogren. Neither of us will. Now, hush, and let me sleep."

Over the next few days, Huntley the Boreal Owl told Willogren the basics of branching, flying, and hunting. Willogren listened closely to his every word, clinging to them as if they were precious things to be missed. What Willogren did not know was that Huntley's last few days really would be precious, and that he would greatly miss the old owl who had taken it upon himself to raise him. Along with the lessons on branching, flying, and hunting, Willogren learned the life of Huntley. He listened to stories about Huntley's mate, Kataya, and their nine children. Willogren learned how to dream, and how to think, as he heard of Huntley's dreams and the lessons he'd learned during his long life.

On Huntley's last day, Willogren was by his side. The Boreal Owl was nearly all white, and patches of feathers had been falling out so that he was nearly bald. Willogren cried, for the first time in his life, that day, as Huntley lay in the bottom of the hollow. The Boreal Owl's breath was shallow and getting dimmer. Willogren could hear Huntley's heart beating slower and slower.

"Oh, Uncle Lee, please don't leave me!" Willogren cried, tears leaking out of his eyes.

"I know that...you will be...well off...without me...son..."

Son? What was son?

"Uncle Lee, what does son mean?" Willogren asked.

There was no reply. Huntley had stopped breathing. His heart pumped one last time, and then he was gone. Willogren felt a presence in the hollow, drifting away. Through his tears, he saw a shimmering, white essence leaving Huntley's body. He knew, without asking, that it was Huntley's spirit, going into glaumora, the owl heaven Huntley had told him about.

"I love you, Uncle Huntley. I will never forget you. I will find out what son means, and I will make you proud. Someday, I will see you in glaumora, and we will be together again." Willogren bowed his head to the Boreal Owl. "Good-bye, Uncle Lee. Find peace and rest in glaumora."

A full moon rose in the sky as Willogren walked to the edge of the hollow and stepped out. He would once more return to the tree, years later, to find a family of Boreal Owls living in the very hollow he grew up in. Seeing the family would fill his gizzard with happiness.

End of Prologue