"Bye-bye," Auntie cooed, and waved a tattered wing. "Bye-bye, 12-8, you fool!" - Kathryn Lasky

"I don't really know what happened. I just fell out of the nest." But the second Soren said those words he felt a weird queasiness. He almost knew. He just couldn't quite remember, but he almost knew how it had happened, and he felt a mixture of dread and shame creep through him. He felt something terrible deep in his gizzard.

Gylfie looked at Soren gravely. "That is why we must learn how to fly before the next newing."
"But I won't be ready. I won't have enough feathers," Soren said.
"Almost, though."
"Almost? There's a difference, Gylfie, between almost and enough."
"Yes. The difference is belief, Soren. Belief."

Once upon a very long time ago, in the time of Glaux, there was an order of knightly owls, from a kingdom called Ga'Hoole, who would rise up each night and perform noble deeds. They spoke no words but true ones, their purpose was to right all wrongs, to make strong the weak, mend the broken, vanquish the proud, and make powerless those who abused the frail. With hearts sublime they would take flight...