This is my very first fan fiction. I hope you enjoy it.
"What are you proposing?" the king inquired, his mate looking at him anxiously from the throne beside.
"Get all owlets and expecting mothers to safety immediately. Secure squadrons and ready every resident that is old enough and willing to fight for war." the Great Horned owl explained, gripping the branch that protruded from the hollow wall firmly. "The Great Tree is no longer safe." A chorus of surprised gasps and murmurs escaped from the beaks of the owls in the Parliament.
The queen, an elegant Spotted often admired for her wit as much as beauty, threw her wings around her mate in an embrace. "Alistair, what shall we do?" she whispered frantically as she buried her face in his speckled feathers, her eyelids blinked away tears. "Our children..."
"Althea, we must do what Lord Thatch has advised. He has been a loyal owl of Ga'Hoole from times before even we hatched. His fleet of slipgizzles uncovered various snippets of talk about battle strategies and war against our forces." Alistair dipped his head to the Great Horned that had spoken not long before. "Now, each of the Parliament members will be assigned their own fleet that they will need to prepare for what is to come, is that clear?" the voice of the Spotted owl bellowed.
"Aye." a collective call rang in reply.
"Very well." he said. "Lord Thatch, take the finest fighters and flyers of your chaw. You and Lady Noranna will lead your forces out separately flanking two squadrons of Guardians I have yet to select. The guardians will then veer off and take the front lines of the Pure Ones, hopefully thinning the amount a tad for your soldiers. Your forces will merge when I give the signal." Alistair paused to catch his breath, his chest heaving as he inhaled and exhaled deeply.
A Pygmy owl raised her wing. "Yes, Noranna?"
"With all due respect, my liege." she began with a bow. "My chaw members are not fighters in the slightest. We study the art of healing."
"I am glad you asked that, my dear Noranna. That is exactly my point. We will need not only fighters but healers to tend to our wounded." a few nods of understanding came from the gathering. The king peered at each owl present with his assuring gaze. Lord Thatch, whom his father had been good friends with and he had grown up knowing returned the smile. His decrepit body shook like a leave in his old age, his talons were mangled and he was missing one on his right foot, his mottled feathers lay in constant disarray.
Alistair peered towards a small opening in the wood, gauging the height of the moon in the sky. "Hmm. We will continue this discussion later. You are dismissed." he stated. The owls flooded out of the hollow, chatting and murmuring about war and battle tactics as they left. As the last owls of the Parliament departed, Althea spun to face her mate.
"Alistair, what if you don't come back?" she whimpered.
"My lady, ever since I first met you I was in love. Our first clutch of eggs has yet to hatch, my dear." they both turned in unison to smile at the three eggs that were nestled in a nest where she had perched. "As king, it is my duty to protect the Tree and all that inhabits it with my life. If I die in the fields fighting for what I love, if my sacrifice might mean that you and our children and all the owls of the Tree may be safe, then I did not perish in vain."
The two stood in silence, their eyes locked. Althea spoke once more in a quavering voice. "But you will come back, Ali, won't you?"
"I will try, my dear. I will try."