As summer in Dogwood glided into fall, the winds that often swept the town intensified and grew cold teeth.
Penny beat her frantic pace over the high field to the hollow, and the wind gusted up stronger, pushing at her back as if it wanted to pick her up and throw her into the clearing. She stumbled, almost fell, saw the treetops emerging from the creek canyon, and skidded to a halt at the edge. The wind gusted again, threatening to push her over, then it stilled.
Penny half slid, half ran down the crumbling trail, brandishing her wand before she even hit the bottom. Flames exploded from the stone ring, rising a dozen feet into the air, licking at a few stray boughs, then dropped down to a normal level.
Penny ran past the fire, stopped in front of the door, and faced it.
The Birdman wo
