For some unknown reason, most people were up later for their breakfast the following morning. The exceptions, of course, were the four young people nesting in the Edifice, who were clearly audible, even through earplugs, from shortly after dawn. I popped my plugs out just in case we were to be visited by a lively LC, only to hear the typically calm voice of Jan as she corralled and fed the child pack. By the time I finally surfaced, they were gone, apparently delivered by Shan’s Mum Ginny to the children’s play area.

Priorities at that age are somewhat fickle.

Katie was so right about ‘music on hold,’ which she described as “all your favorite tunes, castrated.”

“I’ll…oh god that’s so warm! I’ll tell you when”

“Where do I?”

“Just there. Just…. Yeah. Push. Gently. It’s…. stop. Wait. Now push… stop stop. Let me wait a sec… Again, Ish, and OH”

It wasn’t far off the girl’s dream, I realised, as four of us in two couples joined another couple (ignoring the four kids) for a meal consisting of pie and mash in a cardboard box, which was actually tasty. Our son looked slightly woozy, in the happiest of ways, and both Blake and Di joined us in absolutely not teasing him. That restraint was clearly telling on Di, for she suddenly stood up and called out “OY!” to someone behind me, followed by “Just walk past and ignore me, why don’t you?”

It was surprisingly quiet as we turned left off the Welsh Bridge on the ‘Festival Thursday’, but traffic built up a little as we hit the rise to the Berwick Road traffic lights. We were waved straight past what I had assumed would be the entrance and down to a field gate, where a rough track gave way to a series of ups and downs that had me a little worried about speed. We arrived at the other side unharmed and undamaged, however, and went through the ticket check and across the lane into the site proper. The first thing to grab my attention was the sign ‘Kill your speed, not a folkie’, which appealed to my sense of logic. Ish was on his phone.

A Trip to Las Vegas
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

“Somebody is very mad at you” was the title of this image by Robyn2801

Sometimes death isn't the end. Sometimes, people can come back with new lives and new powers. This is one of those times.

This is a serial story with litrpg and gamelit elements.

We stayed in the car while Maz did her bird-naming extravaganza, listening to a new disc Ish had found in Bangor, before heading off to South Stack for more of the same, with the addition of LC’s insistence on counting every step from the top to the bridge over to the lighthouse, and Clara came to the fore just then, explaining what exactly a lighthouse was, as well as its purpose, while I filled the gaps by pointing out seals as well as some of the more famous climbs up the churned semi-rock of Mousetrap Zawn.

“What exactly is that…stuff, Dad?”

Our burst of laughter was interrupted by a call of “Budge over!” from Pen, as she and Keith appeared, each carrying a folded camping stool.

“If you lot are annexing our bunkhouse, me and Keefy will get a drink out of you, at least. You eaten?”

Maz grinned a welcome, her mood clearly on an upswing.

“Just ordered. Please tell me we’re not planning on hitting the chippy afterwards!”

I noticed a sharp look from Frank towards his wife, but she simply slipped an arm through his for a squeeze. Their business. That was when LC announced that she liked crunchy sausages, which drew Deb’s attention back to the rest of us.

“What are crunchy sausages, Carolyn?”

Chapter 35: New Year's Blessing

The momentous night of New Year’s Eve had finally dawned, and Yuqi’s heart danced with a blend of exhilaration and nervous anticipation. She had decided to don her magnificent royal robes, the fabric shimmering with rich hues that captured the light, and atop her head rested a delicately crafted crown, glinting like stars scattered across a midnight sky. With gentle persuasion, she had also convinced Sapphire to adorn her head with her own crown—a resplendent symbol of their unity and Sapphire's newly embraced role as her Queen.

Sometimes death isn't the end. Sometimes, people can respawn with a new life and power. This is one of those times.

We ate breakfast as a family plus one (plus bear), and I noticed little nudges by Clara to Ish, with the occasional meaningful look towards Maz or myself. I waited until we had done the dishes and cleared everything away before dropping the hint.

“You want a word with me, son?”

He looked down at his feet for a few seconds, then nodded, so I led him outside into the slowly warming day.

“What is it, Ish?”

“Um, Clara, Dad. She says… Look, her staying with us was my idea, and it’s really nice, and… but she thinks you might see her as pushy, and she doesn’t want that. She wanted me to let you know that if it’s awkward, she can always go back with the others”

We ate in the pub again, as neither of us wanted to wrestle with the influx of paying guests for the cooking facilities, and Neil was on his last night with us before heading home. Our two girls came over from Bangor, but just for the evening, and there was a very obvious bit of silent communication between them as they clocked our (bunk)house guest.

I had slipped back for a quiet talk with Maz on the way downhill, surprised at her surge of decisiveness.

A rapid bit or negotiation followed, as Debbie clearly needed assurance her charge would be safe, and Neil was initially reluctant to move, as his little notebook was filling with e-mail addresses and names, but the promise of fresh victims finally settled the deal.

It had obviously been years since I had climbed on Milestone, but it had always been a favourite spot, right from my earliest puzzlement at how to use the unfriendly voids on Direct up to my realisation that the slab held enough holds in its ripples to make the climbing far more straightforward. As we uncoiled the ropes, Enfys was chuckling.

Coach Wilson was not a boy, any more than I was.