First Came the Owl Read Online Free

glassy and smooth. The moon was so bright they could even see the leaves and twigs frozen under the black ice and the moon’s reflected light, as if the pond were a mirror.
    Nita sat on a log and laced up her skates, then stuffed her hands quickly back into her mittens. She stumbled out onto the ice. “I’ve forgotten how,” she called. She slipped and came down on her hands, but after she got up it began to get easier. She made it all around the edge of the pond and back to Anne, ducking under branches that stuck out over the ice.
    â€œBe my partner,” said Anne. They crossed their arms and skated together like performers.
    Mrs. Stillwater came down and put the thermos near their shoes by the log. Then she glided onto the ice. She was really good—she could skate backward and twirl.
    Around and around they went until Nita felt warm all over. The frozen pond and the moon were cold and beautiful, chilling and exciting at the same time.
    â€œYou’ll see,” said Mrs. S., as she pushed Nita by the arms to help her learn to skate backward. “Your mother will get better. It’s as if your Mom has fallen through the ice, but she’ll be rescued in time, I really believe that. I know her doctor, she’s a good doctor.”
    Nita couldn’t answer. It was the first time anyone but Dad had ever talked to her about Mom. It felt embarrassing but good, good to be out of the lonely house by the lighthouse, where Mom and Dad kept getting quieter and quieter. The Stillwaters would never let someone they cared about slip away under the ice.
    â€œLook! You’re skating backward!” called Anne. It was true. Mrs. Stillwater had let go of Nita’s hands, and she was carving out long backward glides.
    â€œOh, I can’t do it when I think about it,” said Nita, as her feet automatically started forward again. I wonder if Mom can skate, she thought, but there was probably never any ice in Thailand. Mom probably never had this wonderful flying feeling. Nita skated faster and faster, until she thought she might fly up into the air, right off the ice.
    â€œCocoa,” called Mrs. S. Nita scraped to a stop by the log, breathless and almost dizzy. The hot cup warmed her hands. “You girls have to get to bed,” Anne’s mother went on.
    But Nita sipped her cocoa slowly. She wanted to stay out as long as possible. Out here, everything seemed simpler. The black branches of the trees in the moonlight and the icy pond had been the same every winter for ten thousand years, maybe. It made Nita feel better to think that, though she wasn’t sure why.
    â€œDo fish get frozen?” asked Anne.
    â€œNo,” said Nita. She put down her cup and started to unlace her skates. “Dad goes ice fishing sometimes. He says fish slow way down and lie in the water at the bottom of the pond.”
    â€œGirls,” said Mrs. S. She picked up her skates and the thermos.
    â€œWe’re coming,” they answered, and started up the slope. The house up above them had lights in the windows, and as they walked toward the warm, yellow glow, a blast of sound came from an attic window.
    â€œWhat’s that ?” Nita slipped on the path, startled.
    â€œPetrova is playing her whale songs.” The weird moaning and clicking echoed out over the frozen woods.
    â€œWeird,” said Nita.
    â€œYou mean unusual—that’s what Mom says. We don’t call people ‘weird,’ just ‘unusual.’ Listen! Now she’s playing her very unusual owl recordings. That’s why the window is open, so the owls can hear.”
    Screeches came from the window and Nita shivered. It was a creepy sound.
    It was warm in the house and Anne’s room had a chair that folded out into a bed for Nita. She put her stuffed cat under the covers and felt safer. When she was in bed, she could see the moon out the window and her skating feeling came back for a minute. She