The Owl Keeper by Christine Brodien-Jones

Author:Christine Brodien-Jones [Brodien-Jones, Christine]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, Fiction, Fantasy, General, Friendship, Magic, Children: Grades 4-6, Nature & the Natural World, Environment, Nature & the Natural World - Environment, Nature, Prophecies, All Ages, Ages 9-12 Fiction, Social Issues - Friendship, Social Issues, Animals, Body; Mind & Spirit, Owls, Family - General, Magick Studies, Action & Adventure - General, Family, Action & Adventure, Children's Books, Human-animal relationships, Birds
ISBN: 9780385738149
Publisher: Delacorte Books for Young Readers
Published: 2010-08-15T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Max had no idea how long he had been running. His sides ached, his head was full of fears and his woolen underwear itched like crazy.

As they made their way through the darkness, long shadows fell across the path. In the distance he could see a line of jagged towers, lit by the crimson moon. His heart clenched into a knot. The sight of The Ruins, bleak and mystical, filled him with dread.

At last they stopped for a rest—a quick break, Rose said—and huddled together beside the river. The black water churned, hurling pieces of ice into the air.

What if Rose was mistaken and this path went nowhere? worried Max. Each time he took a breath, his lungs hurt. He wondered what was happening back home, whether the Dark Brigadiers were still turning his house upside down. Were his mom and dad safe—or had they been arrested and taken to prison?

The silver owl poked her head out of his pocket and looked around, feathers bristling with fear. Max took Gran’s shell and held it to the moonlight, trying to draw strength from it. If Gran were alive right now, what advice would she give? Would she say to turn back, or would she tell him to keep going?

“That’s quite a fancy shell, Max.” Rose whipped off a mitten and ran her fingers over the shell’s uneven edge. “This is what’s called a talisman. It has special powers.”

“It’s a scallop shell,” said Max, annoyed. Why did Rose think everything was magic?

He remembered Gran’s startling blue eyes, dark and solemn, her long white hair rippling in the wind. He could almost, but not quite, hear her voice, strong and clear. His owl emitted soft, silvery hoots and those pure, sweet sounds eased the aching in his heart.

“Can I hold your shell?” asked Rose, her voice subdued. “Just for one minute?”

Max closed his hand over the shell. It was the one thing Gran had given him that he treasured above all else.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said.

With a shrug, Rose shoved her hand back into her mitten. Max could see he had hurt her feelings a little.

“It’s nothing against you,” he said quickly. “This seashell belonged to my granny. It’s the most important thing I own.”

“I just want to hold it.” Her eyes looked huge and forlorn. “I’ll give it back. Promise.”

Max opened his hand; the shell glimmered faintly. He knew what it was that drew him to Rose, why he liked her so much. It was that trusting look of hers, that fierce energy and passion. He loved the way she talked with such startling intensity. Rose gave off a dazzling light that made everything around her seem drab and colorless.

He didn’t own much, but he had the seashell and the owl book. Rose had nothing except the raggedy clothes she wore and the ugly boots she’d stolen from Mrs. Crumlin. The least he could do was let her hold his shell.

“All right,” he said. “But don’t drop it or anything.

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