Extract from Chapter 4 of 'A Wizard's Tears':

Yvanna woke to the wind in her face. Sleepily she yawned, and stretched. Her back ached. She had not had a pleasant sleep in the back of the carriage. Still, better than the tent and those three imbeciles!
The wind was uncannily strong, and this roused her quickly from slumber. It was night still, she noted with chagrin. She could only have been asleep for a few hours. Groaning, Yvanna looked out at the sky. No stars were out. It was ominously quiet, save for the foul wind that whipped through her hair. Where had this come from? It had been quiet when she had settled down to sleep, and she remembered there had been stars. Something was wrong.
The feeling of disharmony grew on her, and she did not know why. She clambered down from the carriage, slightly bruised, and cold. She sneezed. The sound seemed to drift slowly away, hanging on the stifling air. Yvanna frowned. The air was thick, the wind not fresh but seeming to have its own, tenacious form.
She glanced over at the tents, first the mage's lavish dwelling, then the small tent. All were quiet. The others were still asleep, then. Snorting to herself in disgust, she took a few steps away from the carriage, peering into the gloom, for there were no lights to guide her. She saw nothing.
The horse in front of the carriage grunted. Yvanna walked to the horse, and patted it on the nose. 'So, you're awake too, I see,'� she remarked casually. 'I think we could be in for a long night, you and I.'�
Rain began to fall, soft drizzle. Sighing, Yvanna stomped to the back of the carriage. It offered little shelter, and soon the rain grew heavier, enough to start annoying her considerably. Still she would not go to the relative safety of the tent, her own pride and stubbornness refusing to make her budge. Pretty soon she was soaking.
Misery and cold overcame her arrogance after several more moments, for the rain became a torrent, and the wind enveloped her in its mounting anger. So suddenly the weather had turned on her, and it was all she could do to stagger over to the tent. Noises were coming from within, so it seemed the others had finally woken to the sound of the rain above their heads.
'Let me in,'� she shouted into the wind, 'I'm getting soaked!'�
The tent opened and a hand pulled her inside. Corg grinned at her. 'So you have come to join us, after all, young lass!'�
'Unhand me, you foul man, ' she bellowed, wrestling free of his grip. 'I will not be handled so!'�
'Forgive me, I was just rescuing you from the storm, lady,'� bowed Corg before her. 'Things are taking a turn for the worse. I have not heard such a wind for a long while!'�
She glared at him, and looked at the others, who were peering out from their warm blankets. They nodded at her, noting with some amusement her bedraggled appearance. Subconsciously she parted her hair with her fingers, trying to untangle the wet knots that had come to know her there. She hissed at them. 'No-one had better laugh,'� she warned, 'Or things might turn nasty in here.'�
A close rumble stopped any retort the others may have had. It was very near, sounding right above their heads, a fierce growl from the sky. Corg shook his head in amazement. 'This is going to be a fierce storm,'� he stated.

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