yellow star. Then the tree flung out a slender sprig, which landed at Maeâs feet. She bent to pick it up, the fluteâs song fading into the forest.
Callum entered the meadow. âI should have known you two would be a perfect match. Luisliu is a mischievous tree.â
The leaves on the tree shook, as if it was laughing.
Mae pocketed the flute, then twirled the twig in her hand, inspecting the velvety star centers of the flowers. âLuisliu?â
âThatâs the name of the tree, Luisliu. I think non-magickal people call it a rowan tree. In the fall, it will be covered with beautiful red berries.â Callum patted his stomach. âThe berries make a wonderful jam.â
Maeâs mouth watered at the idea of making jam. She swallowed and gazed up into the treeâs swaying canopy. âSounds wonderful.â
âIt is particularly good with goose.â The wizard chuckled. âIt makes perfect sense that your wand would come from this tree.â
Mae blinked and stared at the sprig in her hand. âMy wand?â
Callum unbraided the end of his beard, revealing a thorny twig of raspberry. âNo other wizard Iâve ever met has a thorn-riddled wand. But it entangled itself around my leg, and I knew that it was meant to be.â
Mae smiled and gripped the twig tighter. âMy wand!â
A breeze picked up as Mae hobbled back to the tree. She threw her arms around its trunk. âThank you, Luisliu.â She patted the smooth bark.
Callum braided his wand back into his beard, and then put his hand on the top of Maeâs head. âCome, Maewyn, it feels like thereâs a storm blowing in, and itâs time for you to rest.â
âBut Iâm too excited to rest! I want to learn some magick!â She turned in a circle and gave the wand a flick with her wrist. âKazoo!â The flowers burst off the twig, turning into white moths that fluttered to and fro.
âOh, dear.â Callumâs mouth quirked to the side. âIt seems Iâve underestimated your magick. No more wand flicking until I can teach you some rules, or I fear you will be turning mushrooms into hobgoblins.â Callum turned away from the meadow. âCome along, Maewyn.â
Mae followed the wizard, but when she saw a ring of polka-dotted toadstools, she couldnât resist. With a picture in her mind of what she thought hobgoblins looked like and a little flick of her wrist, Mae tapped each toadstool with her wand. At first nothing happened. And then, one by one, the toadstools sprouted legs and scurried away. Mae was so startled she ran to catch up with Callum, ignoring the twinge in her ankle. She grabbed his shirttail and looked back. A cluster of little creatures with round features and gleaming eyes stared at her from the brush. On their heads, bulbous red hats with white polka dots bounced with excitement. The hobgoblins were just as sheâd pictured them. She waved as Callum pulled her along, hoping they would follow her, but they scurried deeper into the woods. She hoped sheâd see them again and that they would be able to keep dry in the storm. She supposed, though, that a toadstool had weathered many spring showers. A splash of rain fell on her nose, and the wizard picked up his pace.
Callum and Mae made it to the shelter of the porch as the storm began in earnest. Mae wasnât about to admit it, but she was a little tired. She rested in the bed in the room that was now hers. It wasnât her dreaming nook, but it was cozy enough. A half-drained cup of tea and three biscuits were sitting on a plate next to her. Her new wand rested on the table by the bed.
She reached for the wand and twirled it in her hand, this time being very careful to stop any images from forming in her mind. âCallum, should I whittle the bumps down on my wand?â
âOh, no.â The wizard shook his head. âYou must never use metal on a rowan tree or you
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