Morning sun filtered through the leaves of Windstead's orchard, where rows of mango and papaya trees stood in neat lines. Dew clung to fruit and foliage, glinting like tiny jewels as village farmers tended their trees. The breeze was gentle—easy, unthreatening—almost lazy after the Wind Temple's focused lessons.
Aiman followed the Gale Sage along a narrow dirt path, staff in hand. Their footsteps stirred ripples of dust that floated away in soft currents. The Sage pointed ahead, voice low: "Somewhere in this orchard, a pack of river wolves roams. Their dens lie near the creek. Each dawn, they scent ripe fruit. We must drive them off before they harm the farmers' crops—or the farmers themselves."
Aiman swallowed. Wolves sounded frightening, even alongside bandits. He remembered how he'd hesitated the first time he faced an angry gust. Still, he squared his shoulders. "I'll help."
The Sage inclined his head. "Remember your training. Call only what you need. Do not let the wolves scatter into the village."
Their path wound between low‐hanging branches, some bent by the weight of ripening fruit. Birds called overhead, startled by their approach. Ahead, yellow mangoes dangled ripe and heavy, nearly brushing the ground. A cool breeze rustled the leaves, carrying a faint tang of damp earth and sweet fruit.
Suddenly, a chorus of terrified squawks pierced the air. A flock of orchard fowl—white chickens and guinea fowl—burst into frantic flight, wings flapping and beaks squawking. A low growl rumbled from the underbrush, and Aiman caught a flash of pale fur between two trunks.
At once, a family of river wolves—six in all—emerged: gray‐mottled pelts, amber eyes glinting beneath bared teeth. They slunk through the orchard, noses low to the ground, sniffing at fallen fruit. Their ribs showed; days of lean hunting lay behind them.
Farmers in straw hats appeared at the orchard's edge, clutching hoes and clubs. "The wolves!" one cried, thrusting his tool into the air. "They've come back to devour our harvest!"
A tense hush fell as the farmers advanced, but the wolves remained focused on the fruit—hungry, desperate. One particularly large wolf sniffed at a fallen mango and lunged, fangs clamping around the fruit. He swallowed it in one gulp, jaws snapping. Another wolf shifted toward Aiman's direction—eyes meeting his. Even from a small child's vantage, that golden gaze felt like a warning.
Aiman stepped forward, heart racing. He raised both hands—palms open, recalling the gentle swirl from the Galeshift Relay. The Sage was already crouching beside a pausing farmer, murmuring words of comfort. Aiman inhaled, recalling the Breath of Stillness. The wind at his feet stilled, waiting.
I want to guide you away, he thought. I don't want to hurt you.
He exhaled, channelling a narrow, silent breeze toward the nearest wolf. The fox‐colored creature snarled and bared fangs at the invisible force—its hackles rising. The breeze nudged it, then circled, gentle but firm, steering it to the side.
The wolf hesitated, then trotted away—past fallen oranges and dangling papayas—into the next row. A second wolf turned, deciding whether to challenge the breeze or pursue its own pack. Aiman took a small step forward and adjusted his palms, sending another swirl that guided the second wolf in a broader arc around the orchard's edge.
The farmers watched in astonishment as each wolf, compelled by Aiman's gust, veered off the fruit and headed toward a low fence marking the orchard's boundary. A hush spread among the farmers, followed by cautious relief.
"Careful," the Sage hissed, stepping in front of a startled wolf as Aiman's breeze guided it. The Sage raised his staff, shaping a narrow vertical barrier that blocked the wolf's view of the orchard. The wolf skidded to a stop, confused. Aiman held the gust steady—just enough to push the animal gently through a gap in the fence.
One by one, each wolf yielded, guided by Aiman's uncertain but growing skill. The last of them—a small pup limping on a wounded paw—hesitated at the boundary, whimpering. Aiman's heart clenched. He knelt and steadied his palms, focusing on compassion. The pup's gaze flickered fear and confusion. Aiman exhaled one final time, a soft sigh that lifted the pup's spirits rather than forcing it onward.
The pup's ears flattened, then it scampered outside the orchard, limping but unhurt. Aaman felt tears sting his eyes. He rose slowly, letting the wind disperse.
The farmers emerged from shadows, approaching with cautious steps. One burly man knelt to inspect the battered mango at his feet. "By the wind spirits," he muttered. "He guided them like shepherding lambs."
Aiman dipped his head, unsure what to say. The Sage placed a hand on his shoulder, pride shining in his eyes. "Well done, Aiman. Today, you balanced precision and compassion. That is the mark of a true wind guardian."
A chorus of gratitude rose from the farmers as they guided their recovered crops into the barn. The orchard, once tense with threat, now felt calm—the fruit safe on the branches, the breeze turning gentle and playful once more.
As Aiman followed the Sage out of the orchard, the cool shade of the coconut grove embraced them. He felt the weight of his accomplishment and the awareness that each gust carried responsibility.
The Sage paused under a broad leaf, turning to Aiman. "Remember, child: the wind you summoned today was not a command but an invitation. You guided them from hunger and danger, not out of fear."
Aiman nodded, voice quiet. "I learned that today. Thank you."
The Sage bowed slightly, staff clicking on the ground. "Come, let us rest in the village. You've earned a break—and maybe a sweet rice cake or two."
Aiman's sister ran up, hands clapping, eyes shining. "You saved the orchard, Aiman! You're a hero!"
He managed a shy smile, hair still damp with dew. "I just guided the wind," he said, echoing the Sage's words. "The rest was up to them."
In the soft morning light, Aiman felt the breeze wrap around him—no longer a threat but a friend. And for the first time, he truly understood what it meant to command that friendship with care and compassion.