Winged Magic

She knew the Turics did not approve of sorcery. They did not despise it with the fervent zeal of past generations of clanspeople, but like anything not understood, sorcery was condemned in Turic society. In order not to infuriate the already defensive tribesmen, she would have to work surrepticiously and pray no one noticed her spell.
She smoothed all expression off her face and looked about for a useful vessel. [...]
Kelene concentrated on what she wanted. She felt the magic around her in the earth, the grass, the stone of Concil Rock ; with her mind she pulled the magic into her will, shaped it to her design, and silently whispered her spell to clarify exactly what she wanted. When she pulled her hand away, the red wine was gone, replaced by a crystal yellow liquid that smelled of honey and spices.

Laying a hand gently on the gryphon's warm side, Kelene closed her eyes and extended her empathic talent down her skin and into the creature's body.
Wild, hot and fierce, the gryphon's emotions broke over her, making her gasp at the sheer force of its personality. At once she realized the griphon was a female, young, barely of breeding age, and consumed with rage at her captivity. Kelene felt barbs of suspicion and bright red animalistic waves of fear. She probed deeper, soothing her way with calm thoughts and feelings of concern, toward the heart of the gryphon's emotions.