Ginger was aroused by a short, sharp, screech echoing across the stone walls of the hollow. She rose her head in an instant, eyes wide with surprise and heartrate up by ten beats. She scanned the room; there, standing just inside the entrance, was Nyra.
"Good evening, soldier. Sleep well, I hope?"
"Uh..."
Once she realized what the noise had been, she calmed...and then her grogginess caught back up to her.
"Sun's already slipped halfway below the horizon. We need get started. Come on! On those talons, up and at 'em!"
She pulled herself out of the warm nest, knees weak and gait unsteady.
"That morning muddle will fade once we get your blood coursing through you like it should. Come on, it'll wear off, owlet."
"What...?" Ginger mumbled.
Nyra rolled her eyes. They were off to a slow start it seemed. Hopefully things would pick up pace once she had something for gizzard to grind.
But not before a morning warmup to snap her out of her drowsy daze.
"Follow me to the training grounds," she told her, to which the younger Barn Owl tried to spread her wings.
"On foot, if you will."
That at least got into her head alright, as she nodded in understanding before plodding after the Ablah General in an uneven, awkward fashion.
...
"Can you fly up there?"
The white Barn Owl pointed up at a cliff jutting out over the stone, almost as tall as the ceiling itself.
Not sure I can make it HALFWAY there, Ginger admitted to herself.
"This is an opportunity for you to start working on your dry takeoffs. It seems simple enough on paper: just jump and flap. But there are a few tricks you need know in order to master the technique. You've got to make sure your wings flap evenly, and you must make sure to flap them hard and fast enough; make your wingtips almost meet each other WITHOUT stalling. Got all that? It's not that much."
"I think so..." she answered, still plagued by some residing fatigue. "Even flapping, and...wingtips need to meet just about, right?"
"And another thing; keep an eye on where you're going to land. Got that?"
"Keep an eye on landing spot, yeah."
"Excellent. I'll leave the rest to you, then."
"Oh...Okay, then."
She shook her head to better her concentration, trying to focus hard enough on the ledge; this was her first ever training exercise. She couldn't afford to botch up this soon.
Still, her wings were heavier than they should have been when she opened them. Ginger breathed in through her nares and out through an open beak to combat the fatigue, then gave her head one more vigorous shake before evening out her wings, bending her legs, springing off the ground and syncing her flaps.
To her pleasant surprise, Nyra's advice worked like a charm.
She kept at it, and slowly but surely, the young owl began to rise higher, and the cliff drew nearer from above.
Make your wingtips almost meet... she reminded herself.
The dry takeoff was particularly energy-consuming, however; she found herself emitting the occasional grunt in her struggle to keep rising and not plummet back down.
And that wouldn't only make a fool out of her, but seeing how far the ground was now, it wouldn't feel to pleasant, either.
Finally, she aligned herself with the ledge, but the owl was so busy concentrating on her energy that she didn't even notice she passed it up until-"
"Augh!"
It was to late.
She'd flown too high and hit the top of her head on the roof of the cave. Her wings faltered briefly, but after realizing her mistake, she slowed her flapping and tried to gently lower herself onto the ledge.
Landing turned out to be even more difficult than taking off; slowing down from straight up required a lot of balance. But she did it without crashing, so that was a plus.
The Ablah General flew to the top of the ledge effortlessly, planting her feet down onto the smooth stone floor.
"Hmm...I'm impressed by your raw power, Tyto," she critiqued. "But it will need work. Paying all of your attention into flying alone and not any into your surroundings causes an imbalance...quite literally in your case. Your wings will need the workout. That part should be easy enough, I hope. And, uh...Try to pay special attention to what's directly above the next time."
"Heh...I'll...keep that in mind," Ginger agreed, rubbing the tender spot on her head where she'd hit the rock.
"Excellent for a first go, I must say," the white owl concluded. It was then that Ginger realized she was holding something in her talons.
"How about a little something to get your gizzard going?"
She tossed it, and a few drops of blood spattered. It was a vole; freshly killed. And the sight of it made Ginger realize just how hungry she was.
She grabbed the dead animal by the head, dipped it back and let it slide down her throat in one piece. It was completely gone in a matter of seconds.
"Glad to see you've a healthy appetite, soldier. Your gizzard's likely well-tuned, am I correct?"
"I should think so," the owlet replied. "I mean...It grinds stuff pretty well, and the pellets-"
"Oh, I'm not just talking about its processing function, child. I'm talking about gizzuition here."
"'Gizzuition'?" she echoed. "What, uh, what's that?"
"I suppose you haven't heard the term; it's strictly Hoolian," Nyra explained. "Gizzuition. It's exactly what it sounds like; intuition derived from the gizzard. It is a far stronger force than intuition from, say, the head, or the gut. As an owl's gizzard grows, as does its gizzuition. And when a gizzard is finely tuned, it intertwines with the scrommsaw and surrounding environment, and can give you all the subtle details of any given situation you could think of, be it good or horrible. Gizzuition comes in handy for we Pure Ones; with it, we can tell who's doing what, what enemies are planning, whether one might be dead or living, and so on. But one must know how to interpret he sensations a gizzard gives in order to truly understand it."
"Wow...Am I...going to learn how to use it here?"
"Hm...Well, yes, but actually no. You will learn how to trust your gizzard here, but it is not something that can be thoroughly taught or interpreted by another owl. You must figure out on your own. All you have to do is trust it. Trust that gizzard, and you will prosper."
"Yes, your Pureness," she bowed. "I'll take that to heart. Or gizzard. I mean-"
"Both will do nicely."
"Yes, your Pureness..."
"And another thing."
"Yes, your Pureness?"
"Stop calling me 'Your Pureness' so often. Keep it up and you'll drive me yoiks within a fortnight."
"Yes, your P-I mean...Yes, ma'am."
"Hmm...How about 'General'?"
"Yes, General."
"Oh, yes, that works nicely. Anyway, shall we continue?"
"Yes, General."
"Excellent."