Free Wizard's Heir (A Bard Without a Star, Book 1) by Michael A. Hooten Page B

laughed. “Oh, now you
don’t mind being with me. Come then, young Gwydion. Let’s get some food to go
with your fine drink, and I will regale you with stories.”
    She led him back into the
trees, and to a patch of wild mushrooms that tasted like heaven to Gwydion. He
said as much to Ruchalia, who said, “Those would be deadly poison to a human,
you know.”
    “Really?” said Gwydion. “Does
that mean I should wait to change back to a human until after I digest them?”
    “Yes,” Ruchalia answered. “And
if you ever eat one while you are human, you’ll want to shapeshift in quick
order. That knowledge saved Taliesin’s life once.”
    “Can you tell me that story?”
Gwydion asked.
    “I thought you wanted to know
about your uncle.”
    “Well, ah, yes,” Gwydion
stammered. “I just have an interest in the bards as well.”
    “You know, you look almost
nothing like Math,” Ruchalia said, cocking her head. “All the same, there are
similarities. Like an interest in everything in everything around.”
    “You say he was close to my age
when you met. Did he appear like I did?”
    “Oh, no, you’re much cuter,”
Ruchalia said.
    “I meant here, in this
place—wherever this is.”
    “This world is called Eleysia.
And yes, Math did just show up one day, just as you did today. He said he was
learning shapeshifting and world crossing from his father, Mathonwy.”
    “Eleysia,” Gwydion said. “It’s
a beautiful name, and comes from such a lovely sow.”
    “You’re very different than your uncle,” Ruchalia said. “He never flattered or flirted. It
was all business with him.”
    “Some things never change.”
    “It’s nice to feel appreciated,
though,” she said, snuggling up against him.
    Gwydion moved away, feeling
pangs of heartache. “I’m sorry, Ruchalia. I was only being friendly.”
    “As was I,” she said. “Something
happened to you recently, a loss, or a heartbreak. It’s hard to tell which.”
    “Both. Neither.” Gwydion
shook his head. “It’s complicated.”
    “It usually is.” She moved a
little bit away, snuffling along the forest floor.
    “I’m sorry, Ruchalia,” he
said. “I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression.”
    She looked at him in surprise. “You
think I’m offended?” She squealed in laughter, which turned into snorting
chuckles. “You are young! You think that I’m pining for you, but I just
wanted to give you a little space. You obviously are not ready to talk about
whatever has happened. You are just as obviously used to having the sows fall
all over themselves trying to get to you.”
    Gwydion grunted sheepishly. “I
imagine you’re right on both counts. Well, the second one, for sure. As for
talking...” He did his own rooting around for minute while he considered it.
Ruchalia nudged him with approval.
    “That’s the way a boar acts,”
she said.
    “I thought boars were all fire
and passion,” Gwydion said.
    “That’s all some see. Not a
sow, though.”
    Gwydion shook his tusks. “The
truth is, I would like someone to talk to. There’s my uncle, but he’s not
here, and he’s hard enough to talk to when he is around.”
    “There were times I couldn’t
get him to shut up,” Ruchalia said.
    “But was it a conversation, or
just him talking at you, expecting you to agree with every word?”
    Ruchalia snorted a laugh. “Yes,
he did do that quite often. Now that you mention it, that’s when I enjoyed his
company least.”
    Gwydion trotted around the forest
floor between three trees. “He’s a good teacher, and I’ve learned a lot. But
there are things that I don’t trust him with.”
    “Like?”
    “Like about my time as a deer,
or a wolf. I know he understands, but I don’t know that I can just tell him
what it was like for me, good and ill.”
    Ruchalia said, “You just want
him to listen.”
    “I do!” He slowed down and
finally stopped in front of her. “I really do.”
    “So tell me instead,” she said.
    “I’m