nestled inside.
“Thanks. You realize I’ll probably lose it, right?” For some reason, dropping wands from a high altitude was her specialty.
“Yes, you’ll notice it’s pretty generic. I know better than to shell out too much gold on a good one. Tomorrow I’ll pack up some gear and create an enchanted map for your travels north.”
“Perfect. I’ll need to know as much as I can about a town called Rawlands,” she said. “Looks like I’m going to the North Woods and hopefully meeting the mysterious guardian, the Woodsman.”
8
H onora was up early. She slipped into a pair of gym shorts and a tank top and spelled the copper kettle to warm. Whenever she was this restless, she visited the gym and pummeled a heavy bag. Barnaby rested on his perch after a night of hunting. Honora had built him a tall tree-like structure out of wood that looked part owl habitat, part sculpture. Her familiar was a barred owl with beautiful full brown feathers flecked with white. His yellow beak was a sharp hook. His enchanting black eyes watched her from above like a guardian, making her feel like someone always had her back.
Years ago, Barnaby had landed on her window ledge with an injured wing during a nasty snowstorm. After scooping him off the ledge, Honora had kept him in a crate filled with old towels and shredded parchment and nursed the predatory guy back to health. Originally, she’d hoped to release Barnaby in the Meadowlands, so he could fly with his own kind in the wild, out in the country with wide-open skies and tall trees, but night after night he returned to her window, and no matter how many times she released him in the Meadowlands, he always came back to her city roost. She decided not to fight it and realized he’d chosen to be her familiar.
Barnaby had transitioned to city life by building a giant nest in an old brass cage in the rafters of her loft apartment. They’d grown close and had often flown side by side through the night skies. He cooed as she filled up his food and water dish, which were mostly just for snacking, since he preferred the city’s delectable rodent selection. Someone had to keep the mouse population under control, and he was a natural-born hunter.
Honora perched on her stool in the kitchen as she scanned the latest edition of Witch World Daily . After her eye-opening evening with her sisters, poring over ancient texts about Everland, the North Woods, and her mother’s journal and letters, Honora was more excited than ever to plow forward with her investigation. Her plan was to work out with Slader, then drop by the office that afternoon to check in with Sawyer, before heading north via the Silver Train.
Barnaby snapped his beak, his telltale warning, but there was no sign of trouble. Still, she leaned up and scanned her apartment, sending out her senses in all directions. Her nerves were on edge since the Hexer attack yesterday at January’s shop. At first she didn’t get any signs of magic. A pigeon must have gotten too close to his ledge. Barnaby didn’t like to share, especially with other feathered friends. But when he snapped his beak repeatedly, this time ruffling up his feathers, Honora jumped to her feet. That was no pigeon warning, and she knew enough to trust his keen hearing. A reflection in the window glimmered. It was similar to the disturbance she’d seen yesterday at Jane’s house.
Honora dove for her staff and gave the magical flickering a wide berth, preparing to go another round with the Hexer. The disturbance warped and bent the air on the stairwell to her bedroom loft. Then it disappeared. Honora waited and listened. She refused to follow the shiny flicker of light for fear of getting cornered. Stay in the open .
“I know you’re here,” Honora said, hoping to goad the wizard out of hiding. The disturbance was magical residue from a cloaking spell. Tough to master, especially in motion, the spell gave off a shimmer or refraction in the light when
“Thanks. You realize I’ll probably lose it, right?” For some reason, dropping wands from a high altitude was her specialty.
“Yes, you’ll notice it’s pretty generic. I know better than to shell out too much gold on a good one. Tomorrow I’ll pack up some gear and create an enchanted map for your travels north.”
“Perfect. I’ll need to know as much as I can about a town called Rawlands,” she said. “Looks like I’m going to the North Woods and hopefully meeting the mysterious guardian, the Woodsman.”
8
H onora was up early. She slipped into a pair of gym shorts and a tank top and spelled the copper kettle to warm. Whenever she was this restless, she visited the gym and pummeled a heavy bag. Barnaby rested on his perch after a night of hunting. Honora had built him a tall tree-like structure out of wood that looked part owl habitat, part sculpture. Her familiar was a barred owl with beautiful full brown feathers flecked with white. His yellow beak was a sharp hook. His enchanting black eyes watched her from above like a guardian, making her feel like someone always had her back.
Years ago, Barnaby had landed on her window ledge with an injured wing during a nasty snowstorm. After scooping him off the ledge, Honora had kept him in a crate filled with old towels and shredded parchment and nursed the predatory guy back to health. Originally, she’d hoped to release Barnaby in the Meadowlands, so he could fly with his own kind in the wild, out in the country with wide-open skies and tall trees, but night after night he returned to her window, and no matter how many times she released him in the Meadowlands, he always came back to her city roost. She decided not to fight it and realized he’d chosen to be her familiar.
Barnaby had transitioned to city life by building a giant nest in an old brass cage in the rafters of her loft apartment. They’d grown close and had often flown side by side through the night skies. He cooed as she filled up his food and water dish, which were mostly just for snacking, since he preferred the city’s delectable rodent selection. Someone had to keep the mouse population under control, and he was a natural-born hunter.
Honora perched on her stool in the kitchen as she scanned the latest edition of Witch World Daily . After her eye-opening evening with her sisters, poring over ancient texts about Everland, the North Woods, and her mother’s journal and letters, Honora was more excited than ever to plow forward with her investigation. Her plan was to work out with Slader, then drop by the office that afternoon to check in with Sawyer, before heading north via the Silver Train.
Barnaby snapped his beak, his telltale warning, but there was no sign of trouble. Still, she leaned up and scanned her apartment, sending out her senses in all directions. Her nerves were on edge since the Hexer attack yesterday at January’s shop. At first she didn’t get any signs of magic. A pigeon must have gotten too close to his ledge. Barnaby didn’t like to share, especially with other feathered friends. But when he snapped his beak repeatedly, this time ruffling up his feathers, Honora jumped to her feet. That was no pigeon warning, and she knew enough to trust his keen hearing. A reflection in the window glimmered. It was similar to the disturbance she’d seen yesterday at Jane’s house.
Honora dove for her staff and gave the magical flickering a wide berth, preparing to go another round with the Hexer. The disturbance warped and bent the air on the stairwell to her bedroom loft. Then it disappeared. Honora waited and listened. She refused to follow the shiny flicker of light for fear of getting cornered. Stay in the open .
“I know you’re here,” Honora said, hoping to goad the wizard out of hiding. The disturbance was magical residue from a cloaking spell. Tough to master, especially in motion, the spell gave off a shimmer or refraction in the light when
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