Inside one of the larger tents, Celeste blinked awake, sunlight dancing through the woven seams above.
Bonbon was curled against her side, snoring softly with one hand in a bag of toasted sugar crackers. Lumina lay on her back with her crown of wilting cherry blossoms still perched askew on her head, lips faintly moving in a dream.
Ray sat nearby, already awake, idly flipping a dagger in her fingers with a smug little grin, her fur a little tousled but otherwise completely unbothered.
Celeste stretched, a warm smile tugging at her lips as the memories of the night before came flooding back.
The flower crowns.
The firelight.
The music.
Mezzo’s stupidly perfect grin.
The moment they had all felt like family.
“Morning,” she murmured.
Ray yawned. “Someone’s chip is feeling fresh.”
Celeste laughed quietly, nudging Bonbon upright. “Come on, baby. Time to see who survived the dance floor.”
From the boys’ tent nearby, the real fun was just beginning.
A groan.
A shuffle.
A thud.
First to emerge was Arcade, hair sticking out at impossible angles, goggles on upside down.
“Too much noise,” he rasped, walking directly into a post.
Next, Skye poked his head out—only to immediately yelp at the brightness and duck back inside. His huge fennec ears flattened dramatically.
Lumina raised a brow. “Skye… you didn’t drink, did you? You’re only a kid.”
Skye shuffled out, ears drooping. “No! My ears are just… really sensitive. All the noise last night gave me a headache.”
Lumina smirked, leaning over to flick one of his giant ears.
“Aww, softy. Fine. I’ll find you some headphones next time.”
Skye brightened instantly, tail giving one polite wag.
“Thank you… that’d really help.”
Then Pitch crawled out, hair flat on one side, fur frizzed, tail dragging like it had been used as a pillow.
“Why is the sky yelling…”
Celeste stood outside their tent, hands on her hips, grinning.
“Good morning!” she sang sweetly.
“Ugh, Cel, please…” Arcade groaned. “Not so loud.”
“Too early…” Skye mumbled from inside.
Ray stepped up beside Celeste, crossing her arms with a smug smirk.
“If you can’t handle your drink,” she said, “you shouldn’t drink. Lightweights.”
Pitch opened one eye at her.
Even half-dead, he managed a grin.
“You sayin’ that like you didn’t fall asleep sitting up with a marshmallow in your hand.”
Ray’s smile twitched. “Lies.”
“It was on fire.”
“It was resting.”
“It was charcoal.”
Ray pointed at him. “Careful, Wolfy. You’re too fragile for this fight.”
Pitch’s tail gave one tired flick.
“Maybe. But you’re still talking to me.”
Ray looked away too quickly, pretending to check her dagger.
A loud crash came from inside the boys’ tent.
Then Mezzo stumbled out—shirt inside out, eyes squinting, crown of leaves still stuck to one ear.
“Easy for her to say…” he grumbled, rubbing his head. “I woke up with a statue in my bed and no idea where it goes.”
Celeste burst out laughing. “Was it a garden gnome or something sacred?”
“Both, I think! It judged me.”
Bonbon waddled out behind Lumina, still hugging the snack bag.
“I saw you dancing on a table last night,” Lumina said through a cracker.
Mezzo winced. “So it wasn’t a dream.”
Ray patted his back, grinning wide. “You were the entertainment, champ.”
“Great. I hope someone at least filmed it for posterity.”
Arcade silently raised one hand.
Mezzo stared at him.
Arcade lowered the hand very slowly.
And then the tent flap rustled again.
Out stepped Hughes—coat straight, horns polished, posture flawless.
He looked like he had just finished a morning run, not a night of drinking.
He yawned once, stretched, and rolled his shoulders with a satisfied sigh.
“Beautiful morning, isn’t it?”
Pitch squinted up at him from the ground. “How are you even alive?”
Hughes smirked, tugging on his gloves. “Discipline, lad. Comes with experience.”
He started walking toward the firepit, completely steady, pausing only to glance back with that veteran’s grin.
“Oh—and Pitch?”
Pitch groaned. “What?”
“You owe me a tenner.”
Pitch’s ears flicked. “For what?”
“For losing, lightweight.”
Ray burst out laughing so hard she nearly dropped her dagger.
Skye peeked out from behind Arcade, blinking. “He actually beat you?”
“It’s not fair,” Pitch muttered. “He’s built like a brewery.”
Hughes just tipped his hat and strode off toward the river for a wash, humming something suspiciously like a victory tune.
Celeste leaned her head on Lumina’s shoulder, watching her found family stumble into the light like hungover newborn deer.
“Totally worth it,” she said softly. “Every second.”
Ray grinned. “Except maybe for Pitch’s wallet.”
From somewhere down by the stream came Hughes’ triumphant voice.
“And don’t think I won’t collect, boy!”
The camp erupted in laughter once more, the golden morning wrapping around them like a promise of peace—however brief it might be.
The smell of food drifted through the valley like a siren song: smoky, savoury, and undeniably British.
Sizzling pans lined a makeshift campfire kitchen, tended by a few cheerful Mythics with aprons and tired eyes.
The breakfast haul was glorious.
Bacon, sausages, baked beans, fried bread, eggs, mushrooms, and hash browns.
The full mountain-lifting experience.
The hybrids gathered at long wooden benches, sun still rising, heads still foggy but spirits restored.
Celeste sat primly at first, adjusting her flower crown and sipping tea like a noble fae.
Mezzo narrowed his eyes suspiciously from across the table.
“You’re one of those breakfast people, huh?”
Celeste blinked over her cup. “One of what people?”
“Tea first. Tiny toast bites. Sits straight. Looks like she might apologise to the beans before eating them.”
“Excuse me?” Celeste raised an eyebrow. “Are you judging my toast handling?”
“I’m just sayin’,” Mezzo said, waving a sausage like a sword, “there’s no fire in it. Where’s the grease? The savagery?”
Celeste slowly set down her teacup.
Lumina’s ears perked up.
Arcade whispered, “Oh, he’s going to die.”
Celeste folded her hands neatly on the table.
“You think I’m too delicate to appreciate a proper fry-up?”
Mezzo leaned forward with a cheeky grin. “I think you eat like a haunted princess trying not to offend the furniture.”
Ray choked on her tea.
Celeste’s tail twitched.
“I see.”
Mezzo’s grin faltered slightly. “That sounded dangerous.”
“It should.”
Then Celeste reached for the bacon platter and dragged it between them.
“Bacon. You and me. Ten strips. First to finish wins.”
A beat of silence.
Bonbon dropped her toast.
Skye’s ears shot upright.
Ray leaned in with wicked delight. “Everyone, place your bets.”
Within seconds, plates were stacked, a crowd had gathered, and Arcade and Ray were yelling, “Go!”
Celeste and Mezzo tore into it.
She was elegant at first, still chewing like royalty.
Mezzo devoured three strips in one bite and gave her a smug look.
Celeste’s eyes narrowed.
Her tail flicked once.
Then she tilted her head back and downed four strips like a wildcat reclaiming her title.
The crowd roared.
“She’s unhinged!” Arcade shouted. “I love it!”
“Go Mam!” Bonbon clapped, crumbs flying.
Mezzo stared at Celeste in delighted horror. “Where did that come from?”
Celeste dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin.
“Good breeding.”
Ray wheezed.
Mezzo grabbed another strip. “Oh, it is on now, princess.”
Their elbows slid closer across the table as the contest grew increasingly less dignified. Celeste leaned in to snatch a strip from the middle plate at the exact same time Mezzo did. Their fingers bumped.
Both froze for half a second.
Then both grabbed the bacon anyway.
“Mine,” Celeste said.
“Shared territory,” Mezzo said.
“Absolutely not.”
“Then duel me.”
“I am duelling you.”
“With more passion, flower queen.”
Celeste tried to tug the bacon from his hand.
Mezzo tugged back.
The strip stretched between them.
Bonbon watched.
Her eyes grew enormous.
Then she grinned.
Before anyone could stop her, she planted both tiny paws against Celeste’s back and pushed.
At the same time, Lumina—who had clearly chosen chaos as a lifestyle—gave Mezzo’s shoulder a shove from the other side.
Celeste and Mezzo lurched forward.
The bacon strip ended up between them.
Shared.
Very shared.
Their faces stopped inches apart, both caught with the same piece of bacon between their mouths.
The entire table went silent.
Celeste’s eyes went wide.
Mezzo’s ears shot up.
Bonbon clapped both hands over her mouth, delighted beyond words.
Ray slammed one hand over her face.
Arcade whispered, “This is cinema.”
Pitch, half-asleep with a mug of tea, opened one eye. “Did I miss something romantic or illegal?”
Celeste made a tiny squeaking noise.
Mezzo went bright red beneath his spots.
Neither moved.
The bacon snapped.
Both of them recoiled so fast they nearly fell off opposite sides of the bench.
“I need air!” Celeste blurted.
“Same air!” Mezzo said, then panicked. “Different air. Separate air. Air elsewhere.”
They both bolted in opposite directions.
Bonbon collapsed into giggles.
Lumina laughed so hard she nearly fell backwards.
Ray finally lost it, folding over the table.
Arcade held up his orb drone. “For blackmail.”
Skye, scandalised and thrilled, whispered, “That was basically a kiss.”
Pitch snorted into his tea. “With pork involved.”
Ray pointed at him without looking. “Never say that sentence again.”
While bacon warfare collapsed into absolute social ruin, Hughes appeared from the kitchen line with a towering plate balanced in one hand: fried bread stacked like a fortress, beans, mushrooms, bacon, and three eggs sunny-side up. A mug of steaming black tea dangled from the other.
He took one look at the chaos, chuckled, and dropped onto the bench beside Ray with a satisfied grunt.
“Now this,” he declared, “is the breakfast of kings.”
He stabbed a sausage with deliberate ceremony.
“All it needs is a proper brew, and I might actually forgive you lot for last night.”
Ray grinned. “You mean the drinking contest or the part where Pitch called you Captain Goat Daddy?”
Hughes did not even blink.
He took a sip of tea.
“Both. But I’ll take the title.”
Pitch, still half-asleep at the far end of the table, groaned. “I’m never drinking again…”
“You say that every time,” Hughes called back cheerfully. “Now hush, lightweight—you still owe me a tenner.”
A chorus of laughter followed, echoing through the valley as smoke rose from the fires and the sunlight crept higher.
Bonbon toddled over with a flower crown made entirely of dandelions.
“I chi, Mr Hughes.”
For you, Mr Hughes.
He blinked, caught off guard.
“Ah… diolch, lass.”
She placed it right between his horns.
Ray nearly choked on her toast. Celeste, who had crept back to the table pretending nothing had happened, laughed so hard she had to put her tea down.
Hughes sighed, looking skyward as if appealing to the gods.
“Aye. The breakfast of kings… and the dignity of clowns.”
Even he could not help but grin.
A little while later, after the bacon scandal had become camp gossip at terrifying speed, Ray drifted away from the benches with her empty plate in one hand.
Pitch noticed because of course he noticed.
He was leaning against a post, trying to appear casual and failing only because his eyes followed her whenever she moved.
Ray glanced back over her shoulder.
“You coming, Wolfy, or are you planning to stare all morning?”
Pitch straightened. “Wasn’t staring.”
“You were absolutely staring.”
“Keeping watch.”
“On my tail?”
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Ray’s grin turned wicked. “Careful. You’ll pull something thinking that hard.”
Pitch pushed off the post and followed her, ears faintly lowered but smile tugging at his mouth.
