Author's note: I have written many stories set in the Rio universe, too many, to be honest. Conversely, I have neglected this universe, which I do not find pleasing.

That being said, consider this brief tale my official return to the GoGH fandom. I will stick to writing short stories that most likely won't exceed a few pages in length. Any more detailed and they take too much time to write.

Anyhow, that is enough banter from me. I hope you find the content of this one-shot satisfying, despite its brevity. All feedback is appreciated, as are favorites.

Reflections

The season of the Copper-Rose Rain – known as autumn to the extinct Others – was well underway in the mosaic of biomes of the S'yrthghar.

The Shadow Forest and the Desert of Kuneer were not altered to a great degree, the former being composed primarily of conifers and the latter totally lacking them.

Evidence of the seasonal shift could be found elsewhere, however, most notably on the island kingdom of Hoole.

The Great Tree, home of the fabled Guardians, was actively shedding its leaves in droves. Hundreds of rich brown leaves cascaded from its winding boughs, surfing on the cool breeze and dancing merrily as they fell.

Sizable piles amassed at the base of the Tree, both between and on top of its stout roots. The remaining leaves either came to rest on the island's sandy outskirts or landed in the sea of Hoolemere and were swept away to distant shores.

During this transitional period when the Golden Rain's shining glory faded in preparation for the arrival of the White Rain's chilling grasp, there seemed to be more owls occupying the Great Tree than ever before.

Perhaps that was due in part to the efforts of Soren and Pellimore, the Tytos currently ruling the Great Tree and its inhabitants.

In the 24 moon cycles since the War of The Ember, they and their subordinates had worked tirelessly to forge mutualistic bonds with the other kingdoms and draw in owls of all kinds.

Judging by the fact that the Guardian's stronghold had reached its capacity, the dozens of diplomatic missions undertaken seemed to have paid off.

Scholars came to expand their cultural, societal, and historical knowledge of the Tree and its inhabitants and document their experiences.

Wanderers, in the form of entire families, siblings, or newly wing-fast couples, visited temporarily to admire the picturesque scenery, though a few opted to stay permanently.

A small number of particularly adventurous owls approached Soren and Pellimore personally and expressed their desire to undergo Guardian training. The monarchs, seeing much potential in those eager souls, granted their requests.

It must be noted that the threat of nachtmagen, hagsfiends, and bloodthirsty armies had long since been purged from the land. Barring global cataclysms, foul tempests and crashing waves were practically the only events that posed some level of danger to the Great Tree.

As such, recruiting additional Guardians was not done to bolster its defenses. Rather, it was done to shape apprentices into confident beings who exercised the ideals of honor, loyalty, bravery, and humility, ideals that had been instilled in all Guardians since the age of Hoole.

Needless to say, a blanket of solidarity and prosperity had descended upon the owl world. In this time of peace and plenty, life could not be more grand, especially for the inhabitants of Ga'Hoole, who were once considered nothing more than a myth.

The Ga'Hoolian queen settled down in a special hollow located at the base of a mighty crown branch.

She'd just recovered from celebrating Punkie Night the previous night; galooshing for three hours straight – while wearing a Short-eared owl mask – and blooking for milkberries had drained most of her stamina.

Thankfully, her final task of the night, a training exercise/skill evaluation of her students in the tracking chaw, had not been as energetically costly.

First Light was but an hour away yet she could not sleep, as a certain someone happened to be absent.

Tucking herself into the far corner of the hollow, she closed her eyes and entered a calm, collected state.

Soon after, her acute sense of hearing registered the echo of talons contacting the dense wood of one of the Tree's interior corridors.

She knew of one owl whose gait produced tapping noises sporting that unique rhythm and pace.

Turning her head ninety degrees, she stared at the chamber entrance.

The tapping steadily increased in volume and clarity.

Seconds later, her king slipped through the milkberry vine curtain. He paused momentarily, smiled, and joined her in the corner.

He nuzzled her affectionately, rubbing her cheek with the comb of feathers extending from his beak to his forehead.

"Welcome back, dear. I missed you."

"I missed you more," he replied tenderly.

He then positioned himself beside her, his starboard wing pressing directly against her port wing.

His innate, rich scent was masked by the faint, yet still detectable, odor of smoke.

Inspecting his body carefully, she noticed his usually pristine plumage was not pristine anymore. Patches of ash clung to his coat and some of his feathers were clearly scorched.

"Hm, did you have a run-in with the forge tonight?"

Soren chuckled; his mate's penchant for clever jokes never failed to amuse him.

"Not exactly. A small fire sprang up in the Tyto Forest, so I traveled there with the colliering chaw to teach them how to snatch coals out of the air."

"I assume your plumage becoming disheveled was unavoidable then?"

"Put simply, yes."

"Do you mind if I improve its condition then?"

"Go ahead."

Pelli plucked out the burned, blackened plumes – causing Soren mild discomfort – and disposed of them outside.

Next she buried her beak in his back feathers and preened them diligently, dislodging the soot particles and smoothing out the messy spots.

As she focused on the zone between his wings, a shudder raced down his spine and his tail flared open momentarily.

"Ooh, that felt wonderful," he said blissfully.

This time she let out a chuckle of her own. Pelli found it quite satisfying that she could invoke such a reaction in her beloved.

"I thought you'd enjoy it."

A five-minute preening session seemed to do the trick. His natural semblance restored, Pelli could once again marvel at his attractive figure.

She was fully aware that some aspects of his physical self were permanent.

His tarnished beak bore an obvious nick, there were subtle changes in plumage topography due to old wounds suffered in past battles, and the skin on the bare parts of his legs and talons appeared as though it belonged to an owl twice his age.

These attributes weren't unsightly by any means in her eyes. Instead they served as features that defined Soren as an owl who fought for what he believed in at his own expense.

He was far from perfect, but she considered perfection lackluster regardless.

To be fair Pelli, during her youth, rarely envisioned a future in which she found a mate and started a family. Very much a lone wolf – airborne and cloaked with feathers, mind you – she relied on her friends to bring her happiness.

But everything changed that fateful night when Soren rescued her from the relentless blaze that surely would have consumed her. After spending many long nights with her tutor in the wake of that harrowing ordeal, her infatuation bloomed like a flower in the Silver Rain.

Trust in your gizzard, for it is rarely ever wrong, as the adage goes. Pelli did exactly that, realizing that she'd never craved the companionship and devotion of another of her kind so profoundly.

"Kind and generous as always. Thank you, my love."

"You are certainly welcome, my dear."

"How shall I repay you?"

Saying nothing, Pelli touched Soren's beak with hers.

The monarchs kissed passionately, quickening the pace of their heartbeats and stoking the smoldering flames of their affection.

"Was that sufficient?" he inquired.

"Consider us even," she answered.

The female Tyto rested her head on her male counterpart's well-muscled shoulder and sighed.

"Tired, my beautiful queen?"

"No, your delightful presence soothes me."

"Perhaps I have been enchanted by a touch of good-natured magen."

"It may also be a sign from Glaux that you and I are meant to be…"

"To be honest, I prefer the latter explanation."

"As do I."

"Since neither of us are tired, why don't we savor a short flight before First Light?"

"Why not? Do you have a particular destination in mind?"

"Let me think… Cape Glaux?"

"A fine choice. Lead the way, my handsome king."

Soren shuffled to the rim of the hollow and dove out, spreading his wings to break his fall and begin gliding. Pelli imitated him.

The Tytos banked to port, orienting themselves towards the western boundary of the Sea of Hoolemere.

Trailing a short distance behind Soren – the gap equal to the width of her wingspan – she took advantage of the slipstream he generated. Staying aloft required next to effort aside from the occasional flap of her wings to maintain altitude.

The cape, a rocky outcrop carpeted with fertile soil, was one of three landmasses jutting out into the inky black sea.

Obscured by a bank of gray fog, they deduced its location by spotting the trees whose crowns poked out of the murky cloud.

Plunging into the mass of suspended water droplets, they navigated the maze of trees and alighted on two adjacent forks of a mid-level branch of a pine.

"Cape Glaux was clearly visible when I left the Tree earlier this evening. I remember Otulissa mentioning to me how this type of fog forms: a breeze carries a mass of moist air over a cool body of water, causing it to condense."

"Weather patterns can be quite interesting," she quipped.

"Indeed they can."

Soren tilted his head to one side, the sudden movement grabbing her attention.

Despite the insulating shroud that enveloped them, he managed to hear a rodent at the tree's base.

"There is a vole shuffling around in the pine needles below us."

Rather hastily, he leapt from the branch. Drawing his wings in to minimize air resistance, he plunged straight for the earth like a tawny comet.

At the very last second he flung them open, slowing his rate of descent just enough to avoid injuring himself.

Extending his talons moments before impact, he landed squarely on top of the quadruped. Contracting the powerful muscles attached to his talons, they immediately clenched, forming a cage around the hapless creature.

Pelli drifted down and alighted gracefully beside him.

"Your accuracy, despite the conditions, is impressive. A masterful strike I must say."

"Judging by your flattering remarks, I'd think you'd become the Striga."

Pelli rolled her eyes and gave her mate a playful nudge on the flank."

Soren extracted a plump vole from the layer of pine needles, shaking his foot to dislodge them.

Squeaking in fear, the rodent struggled to escape but failed to weaken its captor's iron grip.

"Hungry for some fresh meat?" he inquired, presenting the vole to her.

"No thank you. My gizzard is packed full of the roasted mice I ate during Breaklight."

"Fair enough. I'm not that hungry either."

Soren released the vole from his clutches. It squealed and scurried off in the direction of Silverveil.

"A merciful king is one worthy of respect, as they say."

"And who might 'they' be?"

"Per Otulissa, it was a phrase used by the Others."

"Ah, I see."

Out of the corner of his glossy obsidian eye, Soren spied a puddle of water that had collected in a shallow depression in the earth.

He trotted over to the pond and imbibed a beakful of the cool, refreshing liquid.

Once the ripples ceased, he peered into it. He stood out clearly, his light feathers contrasting strongly with the mossy green backdrop of the pine bough overhead.

His time-worn, grizzled reflection peered back up at him. Given the tumultuous life he had lived, it made logical sense he looked nothing like a newly-hatched owlet.

He exhaled heavily, his gizzard twitching in his belly.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Anything, Soren."

"Have I met your expectations as a mate, a father, and a king?"

"No…" she began.

"Oh…" he said, disheartened by the unexpected admission. "What have I done wrong?"

Disregarding the inquiry, she strode up to him and laid her port claws over his starboard ones. The gesture motivated him to lock eyes with her.

"You have exceeded them, my dearest Soren."

A wave of surprise washed over his face, followed by an expression blending relief and elation.

"I was sincerely worried that I had disappointed you, our daughters, or our subjects in some way."

"Hardly. You were, and continue to be, exemplary."

"I suppose I've performed well thus far."

"You're not giving yourself enough credit. Don't make a habit of it," Pelli advised, churring.

"As you wish, my love."

The soul bound pair spent the better part of a half hour conversing idly about whatever topics came to mind.

The violet color staining the sky bled away, morphing into the soft peach and flaxen hues of dawn.

The Tytos departed the cape as the burning limb of the sun peeked out over the horizon.

Upon returning to the Great Tree, they discovered Bell, Blythe, and Sebastiana sleeping soundly in their hollow. The adult Tytos smiled to one another, refraining from speaking lest they disrupt the slumbers of their children.

Cuddling next to their youngest daughter, the king draped his starboard wing over the queen's back, holding her close.

Positioning his beak right next to her hidden ear slit, he whispered, "Good Light."

"Good Light," she whispered in response.

"I love you, Pellimore."

"I love you more, Soren."

As the sun climbed steadily higher the monarchs spiraled into unconsciousness.

Venturing into that secretive fantasy realm, none could fault them for dreaming about each other.