“Simple is good,” River Shoulders said.
Then he gave himself a little shake, bounded maybe four feet into the air off one massive foot, shimmered, and turned into a goddamned owl with a wingspan as long as a freaking car. The massive owl glided out over the tombstones, arcing to one side, and vanished into the night.
“Jesus Remington Winchester Christ,” Wild Bill blurted in a strangled voice. “He’s a wizard?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Taught old Listens-to-Wind, the way I hear it.”
“Huh,” Bill said. “Now, that just ain’t fair.”


Battle Ground Chapter 11, Page 109