The Staff of the Winds (The Wizard of South Corner Book 1) by William Meighan Page A

area, then climbed under the rock overhang next to Marian and rolled himself in his blanket, placing his staff close at hand.  It had been a long and difficult day, and Marian’s unexpected appearance had made it that much more difficult.
    Owen had always been protective of his younger sister, watching out for her and defending her in the face of the town bullies when she was old enough to join him in the school in South Corner.  In a family with two brothers, working a farm on the edge of the Gray Hills, Marian had grown up tough and capable in her own right, and she often found Owen’s protective instincts a little exasperating.  At an early age, she had learned how to take best advantage of the close bond that she shared with her older brother, often getting his help with some of her less desirable chores around the farm, and even occasionally tagging along with him and his friends on some of their adventures into the woods.
    Marian had quickly fallen asleep in the aura of protection next to her older brother, but Owen, despite his fatigue lay awake for some time.  What was he to do with his little sister in the morning?  She clearly did not realize the danger that they were all in.  She probably had not seen the havoc caused by the raiding party in the village, the bodies of the small children broken and left behind. Like Owen, prior to this morning, she had never seen the results of real violence before, other than the natural kind of violence that one wild animal would inflict upon another. Raised on a farm, and hunting to supplement their food, they were both well familiar with the relationships of predators and prey, but the kind of violence that men can use against other men was completely foreign to them.  How could Owen let his innocent little sister become exposed to this type of danger?
    “Little.”  On reflection, that description really no longer applied.  Marian at seventeen was only two years younger than he, and he had to acknowledge that almost without his noticing, she had begun to develop all of the characteristics of a healthy and pretty young woman.  Other girls her age were already forming serious relationships and even getting married.  Would her age and appearance make her safer or more at risk if they were captured by the hard men that they pursued?  Owen did not like to think of his own sister in this context, but he was almost certain that her growing femininity would put her in even more personal danger.
    Owen lay there brooding over their situation and what he would have to do come morning.  He would have to send her back.  He stared at the rock above him for some time, but the stresses of the day took their toll, and despite the hard ground beneath him, he ultimately fell asleep.
    Owen drifted for a time in the gray world of sleep, hearing the night sounds and feeling the soft night breezes on his chest. When he opened his eyes, he looked out over the dark hills, adequately lit by the waning moon and the stars above. When he looked down from the high branch in the old oak, he could see Jack sitting vigilant near a bush that provided him cover from below.
    Feeling completely natural with the motion, Owen spread his wide gray wings and leaped from the branch. With a few strokes, he regained his altitude and soared once in a wide arc around their campsite. He saw a possum foraging on the other side of the hill, the horses grazing quietly in the little clearing, and Jack looking up as he passed silently overhead, but there was nothing else moving in the area.
    Satisfied, Owen stroked his powerful wings and sailed to the west. From just above treetop level, it was easy for him to see where the thin patchy grass below had been crushed by the gorn and their prisoners. Using available air currents and thermals he flew a swift but easy course that kept him in sight of the trail. These were not rich lands, so other than the occasional rodent, Owen saw few night animals. He seemed to be