“I thought she would be before Brown Pads, but she is stubborn.”
“As am I,” Gwydion said.
The males went on a hunt again the next day, and again Gwydion helped to bring down a deer with the pack. They called to the females, and all but Smooth Nose showed up. “Where is she?” Gwydion asked Grey Foot, who was Long Claw’s mate.
“Her time has come, Moon Howl,” Grey Foot said.
“You did not answer the question, my love,” Long Claw said, coming into the conversation.
Grey Foot looked at Gwydion in a way that made him want to both stand straighter and slink away in shame at the same time. Finally she nodded and said, “She told me to tell you: if you can find her, you can have her.”
Gwydion gave a bark of joy. “And I shall!” he said, and sped into the woods. He had not missed the look that Long Claw and Grey Foot had exchanged, that had said so clearly: puppies.
He made it back to the camp quickly, and began sniffing about, but he could not catch the musk that he was looking for. He began moving in widening circles, but without luck. He sat back on his haunches, thinking. She had known she was going into heat, and she had laid her plans. He expected her to go downwind, and maybe cross water. And perhaps she had not been in heat, yet.
He went back to the camp, looking for signs of her regular scent. Finding them, he began to follow it away from the camp in the opposite direction of the hunt. After a few minutes of tracking her, he began to smell her going into heat. It made it hard for him to concentrate, but he did. He lost her at the first stream he crossed, but picked up the trail by ranging up and down the far bank. He crossed two more streams, with the same results, but when she crossed a fourth stream, he could find no trace of her on the other side.
He sat down and had a good scratch while he thought. It dawned on him that since she was trying to make it challenging, perhaps she had been even trickier than he had expected. He began searching the near side of the stream, and sure enough, found her scent ten yards away from where she had entered the water. He was so excited that he sat and howled. He heard her answering cry fairly close by.
He rushed towards the sound, and found her waiting for him in a grassy hollow between several large boulders. “You found me,” she said.
He stopped, suddenly unsure of himself. “Are you going to attack me?” he asked.
“Why would I?”
“Long Claw said you have done that to potential mates in the past.”
She came closer to him, and her scent made him quiver. “It’s true, I have fought in the past,” she said. “But I have little doubt that you would beat me. So I devised a different test for you.”
“Did I pass?”
“You found me, didn’t you?” She rubbed against him until her tail was in his face. Unable to control himself any longer, he mounted her.
It felt almost as intense as the mating with the doe, but Gwydion was able to think a little more clearly. He was especially aware of the change that was happening, a growing connection with Smooth Nose that went beyond the physical. But the physical could not be denied, either, and soon enough even the ability to think had passed.
And then it was over. Gwydion backed away, expecting the same distance to come emotionally as well, but as he looked at Smooth Nose, he felt more drawn to her than ever. He rubbed up against her, thinking that he had never seen anyone as beautiful. When she nuzzled him, he said, “You are my sun and my moon.”
“You are my heart and my soul,” she replied.
“We shall forever be one.”
“Until the heavens and the earth pass away.”
“Even beyond that.” She smiled at that, and he thought his heart would burst with love for her.
They spent three days together, hunting mice and squirrels when they got hungry. When she told him it was time to return to the pack, he knew she was right, despite his utter lack of interest in doing so.
Long Claw greeted them with a sense of relief. “I was afraid that something had happened that you could not make it back to Moss Stone Pack,” he said.
Amid all the sniffing and other greetings, Gwydion said, “There is no other pack and no other leader for us.” And he was surprised to find that he meant it.
Gwydion joined the males for a hunt the next day, and as spring turned to summer, he found his life as wolf dominating. He could think and reason more than when he was a deer, but he did not bother thinking much about his life at Caer Dathyl. It seemed remote, unnecessary; he lived in the moment, thinking about the next hunt, or about finding a suitable den for Smooth Nose to give birth in.
Long Claw watched them both, and finally approached him. “Smooth Nose grows heavy with pups,” he said. “Soon, you will need to take her away from here, to a place where she can raise them in peace.”
“Is there danger in staying?”
“Not directly, but there can be jealousy and bitterness. It could be worse since Brown Pads is still without a litter.” He cocked his head. “And I think that now would be a good time to form a new pack, from a new family.”
Moon Howl stood a moment in surprise. “Are you sure? I feel unready to be a pack leader.”
“And by yourself, that would be true,” Long Claw. “But with a mate like Smooth Nose, you will do well.”
“I bow to your wisdom,” Moon Howl said. “But where do you suggest we go?”
“Go towards the rising sun,” Long Claw answered. “You will come to a great forest that will feed you and your mate, and there are hills there like mounds of large rocks. The ground in between can be dug out, if you are patient.”
“Thank you, Long Claw,” Moon Howl said. “You lead the pack well.”
“Thank you, Moon Howl. You will be a great pack leader yourself.”
Moon Howl and Smooth Nose left that afternoon, and spent three days finding the place Long Claw had spoken of. The hills were more like cairns for giants, but as Long Claw said, they were able to dig a den out between two massive boulders, ending up with a dry cave, well sheltered from both the elements as well as other animals.
Smooth Nose’s time grew closer, and she rarely left the den. He hunted for her, bringing her his kills. It took most of his time, but he was happy to do it for her. One morning, Moon Howl said, “I go to the hunt, my love.”
“Don’t leave,” she said. “I know my time is near, and I do not want to be alone.”
“You need to eat, for the pups.”
“I am fat from sitting and doing nothing. I will be fine for a few days.
Moon Howl crouched beside her and nuzzled her. “What is wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said. “I just don’t want you to leave right now.”
“But how is it different from any other hunt?”
She licked his paws, not answering. After a bit, she said, “I worry that you will not return.”
“There are no other large hunters in the area. Why would I be in danger?”
“It doesn’t feel like danger, not exactly,” she explained. “I just worry that you will leave, and I will never see you again.”
“My love,” Moon Howl said, “Nothing would stop me from returning.”
It took a while, but she finally relented, and he set off for a spot that had been especially rich lately. He trotted through the forest, feeling contented despite his mate’s unease. The feeling lasted up until he was deep in the forest, where the light was dim and green even at noon. A movement off to his left caught his eye, and he turned to see something glowing a little ways off. His hackles rose, and he felt a growl in the back of his throat.
Stiff legged, he walked toward the unknown glow. As he got closer, he saw the figure of a man, sitting at his ease about five feet off the ground. The man had a snow white beard and blue eyes. Moon Howl felt two names come to mind; first, Math, and then Gwydion.
Math said, “It is time to return to the world of men.”
Moon Howl remembered that world, and he whined. Math removed a rowan wan
d from his sleeve, and before Moon Howl could run, he felt it strike him across the shoulders.
Gwydion knelt on the ground, feeling disoriented and nauseated. His hands seemed alien, and when Math told him to stand up, it took an effort to remember the motions necessary. He swayed as he looked at his uncle.
“It is time to come home,” Math said.
“This is my home,” Gwydion said.
Math shook his head sadly. “You are but a visitor here, a stranger who has sojourned for a season.”
“I have a mate, and pups on the way.”
“And they will thrive and prosper, I am sure,” Math said. “But they must do it without you.”
“It’s not fair,” Gwydion said. Even to himself it sounded like a petulant whine.
Math looked genuinely sad. “When I was your age, learning these lessons, I felt the same way. The world is not interested in how we feel about it, however; disappointment is as certain as death, and sometimes just as bitter.”
“I have to go back to the den,” Gwydion said.
“She will not recognize you.”
“It doesn’t matter. I know what I promised to her, that I would return no matter what. I have to know I kept that promise, even if she does not.”
He turned and began walking, not even caring if Math was following him. He paused for a moment to get his bearings; everything looked so different now that he was upright. And unable to smell.
He made it to the den more by luck than skill, and peered in. Smooth Nose was licking the caul off of a small blind pup, and another lay nearby, yawning. She looked up and saw him, and made a low growl in her throat. He opened his mouth to respond, but could not think of how to express his feelings from human to wolf.
They stared at each other for some time. One of the pups, in a fit of exertion, crawled to the lip of the den and tumbled down to land at Gwydion’s feet. Smooth Nose let out a worried whine, which only intensified when Gwydion bent and picked up the little blob of fur and feet. He smoothed the still wet fur on the pup’s head, and lifted him to look him in the face. The pup yawned and rested his chin on Gwydion’s thumb. Gwydion kissed his nose, then reached in to set him beside Smooth Nose.
She stopped whining, and after a quick check on the pup, she looked back at him with a question in her eyes. “Until the heavens and earth pass away,” he whispered. She thumped her tail twice.
He backed away from the den, stumbling over the uneven ground. Math was waiting at the bottom of the hill. “I am ready to go,” Gwydion said.
Math said nothing, only raised his wand. When he brought it down, the forest swirled into nothingness, which then became Math’s tower. Goewin still held the old man’s feet, and the windows still whistled with the winds. And for Gwydion, none of it was even remotely the same as when he left.
Chapter 7: Boar
Gwydion spent the rest of the day in a pensive state. His chambers seemed even more alien than they had the first time, and his experiences as a wolf kept turning over and over in his mind. It had seemed more real, more permanent than his time as a deer. He missed his mate, and the warmth of her body curled next to his in the nighttime. He knew he was human again, and he felt the bonds dissolving between himself and the pack. It made him weep in both sorrow and frustration.
Servants brought him food which he ate without tasting, and when it was too dark to see any longer, he slept. Bran did not come to his rooms, and Math did not summon him. For three days he paced, floating in a world somewhere between humans and wolves, unsure of where he might end up, but on the fourth, he awoke with a clear head. He got dressed, and went up the stairs to see his uncle.
“What did you learn, nephew?” Math said.
“Much,” Gwydion said shortly.
“Was it good or bad?” the old man pressed.
“Both. Neither.” Gwydion shook his head. “Good and bad aren’t the same to a wolf.”
“But you are a man again.”
“In my physical form, yes. But something is shaping within me that is new. My time as a stag was overwhelming, but my time as a wolf was something even more.” He shook his head again. “I do not know if I still know myself.”
Math leaned back. “Yes, I see.” He stroked his beard idly. “There is one challenge left. Do you need more time to assimilate before beginning?”
“I don’t think so,” Gwydion said, frowning. “I think it would be best to continue, without any more delay.”
“Come forward, then,” Math said, drawing the wand from his sleeve.
This time, Gwydion strode fearlessly onto the dais and past Goewin. Stopping at his uncle’s side, he said, “I am ready.”
The wand descended for the third time; Gwydion felt the changes come over him, this time compacting his body into a smaller frame. There was less pain, and he thought he might be getting used to shapeshifting. His body sprouted bristles and his nose stretched into a snout. He snorted and grunted a question at his uncle.
“You are a wild boar,” Math replied. “Now go, and explore.”
The chamber swirled, but Gwydion found that his mind was clearer than the previous times. He saw the swirling for the illusion it was, but the glowing portal that opened before him was real enough. He stepped through it, and onto a greensward lush with early summer growth.
Gwydion marveled at the new senses he had acquired in his new shape. His nose was even more sensitive than it had been as a wolf, and he could feel the power in his muscles that made him a dangerous foe even to humans. He began to run, and quickly realized one limit of his new shape, settling into a trot that kept him from feeling like his lungs would explode.
The grass gave way to small trees, and his nose picked up the faint traces of another boar. He hesitated, remembering with painful clarity what happened when he encountered others in his previous transformations. The thought surprised him, and he was still marveling at the ability to think rationally without being overwhelmed by instinct when he realized that the other boar he had sensed was staring at him.
He backed up with a snort. The sow radiated amusement at his confusion, and he heard very clearly in his mind, “The body you wear sits a bit uncomfortably, I take it?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I mean, you are not naturally a boar.”
“Of course I am,” Gwydion said irritably. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“Because you have the wrong smell about you,” the sow said. “You were also thinking too deeply to notice my presence, which a true boar never does. And your accent is odd.” She cocked her head to the side. “Shall I continue?”
“Are all boars so sarcastic?” Gwydion asked.
“To some extent, I suppose,” she said. “My name is Ruchalia.”
“I am Gwydion.” He paused. “Do we sniff each other, or rub noses or something?”
“Are you a dog in your natural form?” Ruchalia asked.
“No, but I have been a wolf recently.”
“Really? I’ve been a dog, but never a wolf. I’ve always wondered how similar they are.”
“You shapeshift?”
“You seem surprised,” Ruchalia said. “You must be human in your natural form.”
“How did you know?” Gwydion asked.
“Because humans always assume that they are the only sentient beings in the worlds.”
Gwydion bowed his head. “You speak truth, my lady.”
Ruchalia squealed in laughter. “You’re so cute! I do think I’d like to spend some time with you, just to see what you might do next.”
“I’m not sure,” Gwydion said with a frown.
“You don’t trust me?”
“I don’t know you,” Gwydion answered. “We’ve barely met, and already you’ve altered my perceptions of how the world works. How much worse will it be if I spend more time with you?”
She nodded sagely. “That’s true. It could be that you will want to stay here with me forever.”
Gwydion heard the hum
or in her voice, but his heart still ached. He said, “I would rather not take that chance, my lady.”
The smile in her voice disappeared, but sympathy remained. “You’re new to shapeshifting, aren’t you?”
Gwydion said nothing, but started to trot away from her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, catching up to him. “I didn’t mean to insult you, truly I didn’t. It’s just that it’s been ages since I met a fresh shapeshifter, and never one as young as you. Did you figure it out on your own?”
Gwydion said nothing, but continued trotting. He smelled water ahead, and he realized he was thirsty.
“No of course not,” Ruchalia said to his silence. “I’ve only known of a few natural shapeshifters, and they mostly lost themselves after a change or two. Oh, you could tell that their shape wasn’t natural, but you could also tell that they no longer knew which shape was true to them. So you have a teacher, or a guide.”
They had come to the banks of a pond. Gwydion could smell the scum around the edges, and it surprised him that it aroused hunger in him. He ignored it, though, and waded into the water until he could drink deeply without bending too much. Ruchalia was still talking to him, trying to figure out if she knew his teacher, but the names she said were strange, and he could tell that many of them were not human.
“But I should concentrate on the humans I know, shouldn’t I?” she said just then. “Let’s see, there are only a few that really stick in my memory, like Taliesin and Math—”
Gwydion choked on his drink. “Taliesin the bard?” he sputtered. “And Math, son of Mathonwy?”
“I knew Taliesin long before he became a bard,” Ruchalia said. “And Math used to come to my bower every summer for years. Do you know them?”
“I only know Taliesin by legend and song,” Gwydion said. “But Math is my uncle. He’s the one who transformed me and sent me here.”
“Did he now?” Ruchalia said. “I wonder if he meant for us to meet. Last time I saw him, he spoke to me about taking on the lordship of his land.”
“Really? What was he like?”
Ruchalia 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.”
Wizard's Heir (A Bard Without a Star, Book 1) Page 6
