The Wizard Unhomed: Fantasy

The girl in the window was his last sight of home. There is a power to such things, and he wanted to make sure it stuck. So he closed his eyes when they were full of the sight of her and then turned away and walked blind along the lane, his walking stick swinging in front of him to keep him from stumbling over the hedgerows or tripping on the ruts in the road. He was so insistent on keeping that last sight that he didn't open his eyes until he was in what everybody assured him was Cardiff, a city he'd never visited before. He'd been a homebody his whole life, such as it was, staying home and only going to the nearby little town for groceries. There was a power in that too, the power of connections reaching out and embracing and being happy to be pulled upon. Until the fire, when he went out to protect the whole village. And it took every bit in him and then some to summon the water to damp the fire, and the fire to set against the incomer fire, and the wind to keep the two in opposition until they burned out. He saved the village, but he pulled awfully hard on all the connections--


Inspiration: The flickr picture. Maybe also "Northwest Passage" by Stan Rogers.
Story Potential: Medium.
Notes: I like this way of thinking about wizards.