Guardians of the West

dappling the mossy forest floor with golden light and blue shadows. The resinous smell of the tall evergreens was a heady perfume, and birds swooped and spiraled among the tall, columnlike trunks, caroling to greet the sun.
    After a time, they found a glade, a mossy, open clearing embraced by trees, where a brook gurgled and murmured over shining stones to drop into a gleaming forest pool and where a single, soft-eyed deer stood to drink. The deer raised her head from the water swirling about her delicate brown legs, looked at them quite unafraid, and then picked her way back into the forest, her hooves clicking on the stones and her tail flicking.
    "Oh, this is just perfect," Ce'Nedra declared with a soft little smile on her face. She sat on a round boulder and began to unlace her shoes.
    Garion put down the basket and stretched, feeling the cares of the past several weeks slowly draining out of him.
    "I'm glad you thought of this," he said, sprawling comfortably on the sun-warmed moss. "It's really a very good idea."
    "Naturally"' she said. "All my ideas are good ones."
    "I don't know if I'd go that far." Then a thought occurred to him. "Ce'Nedra," he said.
    "'What?"
    "I've been meaning to ask you something. All the Dryads have names that begin with an X, don't they? Xera, Xantha -like that."
    "It's our custom," she replied, continuing to work on her shoelaces.
    "Why doesn't yours, then? Begin with an X, I mean?"
    "It does." She pulled off one of her shoes. "Tolnedrans just pronounce it a little differently, that's all. So they spell it that way. Dryads don't read or write very much, so they don't worry too much about spelling."
    "X'Nedra?"
    "That's fairly close. Make the X a little softer, though."
    "You know, I've been wondering about that for the longest time."
    "Why didn't you ask, then?"
    "I don't know. I just never got around to it."
    "There's a reason for everything, Garion," she told him, "but you'll never find it out if you don't ask."
    "Now you sound just like Aunt Pol."
    "Yes, dear. I know." She smiled, pulled off her other shoe and wriggled her toes contentedly.
    "Why barefoot?" he asked idly.
    "I like the feel of the moss on my feet -and I think that in a little bit I might go swimming."
    "It's too cold. That brook comes right out of a glacier."
    "A little cold water won't hurt me." She shrugged. Then, almost as if responding to a dare, she stood up and began to take off her clothes.
    "Ce'Nedra! What if someone comes along?"
    She laughed a silvery laugh. "What if they do? I'm not going to soak my clothes just for the sake of propriety. Don't be such a prude, Garion."
    "It's not that. It's- "
    "It's what?"
    "Never mind."
    She ran on light feet into the pool, squealing delightedly as the icy water splashed up around her. With a long clean dive, she disappeared beneath the surface of the pool, swam to the far side, where a large, mossy log angled down into the crystal-clear water, and surfaced with streaming hair and an impish grin. "Well?" she said to him.
    "Well what?"
    "Aren't you coming in?"
    "Of course I'm not."
    "Is the mighty Overlord of the West afraid of cold water?"
    "The mighty Overlord of the West has better sense than to catch cold for the sake of a little splashing around."
    "Garion, you're getting positively stodgy. Take off your crown and relax."
    "I'm not wearing my crown."
    "Take off something else, then."
    "Ce'Nedra!"
    She laughed another silvery peal of laughter and began kicking her bare feet, sending up showers of sparkling water drops that gleamed like jewels in the midmorning sunlight. Then she lay back and her hair spread like a deep copper fan upon the surface of the pool. The garland of flowers she had woven for herself earlier had come apart as a result of her swimming, and the individual blossoms floated on the water, bobbing in the ripples.
    Garion sat on a mossy hummock with his back resting comfortably against a tree trunk. The sun was warm, and the smell of trees and grass and wildflowers filled his nostrils. A breeze carrying the salt tang of the sea sighed among the green limbs of the tall fir trees surrounding the little glade, and golden sunlight fell in patches on the floor of the forest.
    An errant butterfly, its patterned wings a blaze of iridescent blue and gold, flitted out from among the tall tree trunks into the sunlight. Drawn by color or scent or some other, more mysterious urge, it wavered through the lucid air to the pool and the flowers bobbing there.