The van’s engine hummed as it rolled down the old coastal highway, windows open and music low. Salt air swept through the vehicle, tousling hair and filling lungs with the scent of a rare reprieve. Everyone seemed in high spirits—except Bracer and Hughes, who had opted to stay behind.
Eventually, the coast revealed itself—golden sand stretching into the horizon, framed by weathered cliffs and old guard towers from long before any of them were born. The beach was almost empty save for the shambling corpses of a few leftover husks, which the group dispatched with ease and mild boredom. Bonbon hit one with a parasol shaped like a popsicle.
Ray groaned.“That’s my life now. Babysitting a sugar-powered panda toddler with a parasol.”
Before they could start unpacking, a shadow swept across the sand.
Celeste looked up.
Kirrin came diving out of the sun in a glittering blur of feathers and attitude, wings slicing through the sea breeze. She landed hard near the dunes, talons digging into the sand, a crate of supplies clutched beneath one arm and a folded beach chair dangling from her beak.
She spat it out with a huff.
“Jeepers, took ye lot long enough!” she called, shaking sand from her feathers. “I flew here, got bored, chased off three buggulls, and named that rock Bernard.”
Mezzo squinted at the rock. “Looks like a Bernard.”
Kirrin nodded solemnly. “Exactly.”
Once clear, they set to work. Tents popped up like flowers in bloom—colorful and haphazard. Arcade, ever the innovator, drove a dream capsule into the sand and summoned a sleek, multi-tiered cooler. It clicked and whirred, unfolding like a tiny building with chilled mist spilling from its vents.
“Limitless bottom,” Arcade grinned. “Ice, drinks, fruit, ice cream. Possibly a singularity.”
Pitch peered in. “Did you pack a sun?”
Arcade handed him a popsicle. “Close enough.”
Celeste emerged last. Her frilled one-piece swimsuit was a shaded blend of pink and blue—soft and sweet like a spun-candy memory. She held her towel tight and avoided eye contact as she walked slowly toward the shade, sandals kicking up sand.
Plum, lounging on a deck chair with her sunglasses tilted down, grinned. “Well look at you, sweetheart! Didn’t think you’d actually wear something cute!”
Celeste huffed, cheeks pink. “It’s practical! And adorable!” she said defensively—then promptly tripped over her own towel and went sprawling face-first into the surf.
Splosh!
For a heartbeat, everyone froze. Then a wheezing, hiccuping laugh broke the silence—Kirrin, doubled over and clutching her sides.
“Oh stars—Celeste—yer face!” she gasped between hysterical laughter.
Carys ran over, tears in her eyes from laughing but trying to sound composed. “Oh heavens, darling—stay still—let me help you—” She reached down and helped Celeste sit up, trying to stifle another giggle.
Celeste peeled something squishy and sticky off her face—revealing a large, very unimpressed starfish suctioned right over her nose.
She blinked once, then deadpanned, “The sand hates me.”
That did it—Carys lost it, laughing openly now as she helped her up properly. “Only you, dearest—only you could be assaulted by stationary sea life!”
Plum was practically crying with laughter. “It’s official—you’re the beach’s chosen one!”
Celeste sighed, shaking sand from her fur and plopping down under the umbrella beside Carys. “If I get eaten by a crab next, I’m haunting you all.”
Plum raised her drink. “Aye, Commander Crabcake—it’s an honour.”
Even Celeste couldn’t help but laugh then, cheeks glowing as the waves rolled gently beside them, the afternoon sun catching in her pastel swimsuit like a little piece of light.
Mezzo and Pitch were already waist-deep in the water, splashing around and seeing who could make the biggest waves. The air was alive with laughter, spray, and the occasional yell from Ray every time someone splashed her too hard.
Celeste stood a little further up the shore, brushing off the last of the sand. She sighed, straightened herself out, and tugged the band from her pigtails. Her hair spilled down in soft, wild waves—golden-blonde ringlets catching the sunlight like melted honey. For once, she didn’t try to hide behind it. She just... breathed.
The wind tugged at the towel around her shoulders, and for a moment she looked utterly at peace—free in a way none of them had seen in weeks.
Mezzo froze mid-splash, laughter still half-formed in his throat. His gaze lingered—just a beat too long. The way the sunlight danced off her curls, the tiny smile she didn’t realize she was wearing.
Pitch, ever the opportunist, smirked when he caught it. “Oi,” he called out, voice dripping with mischief, “eyes over here, Romeo.”
Mezzo flinched, instantly defensive. “Wh—? I wasn’t—! I was lookin’ at the—uh—the tide! Big wave! Dangerous business, the sea!”
Pitch folded his arms, tail flicking. “Uh-huh. Must be a very shiny wave.”
Ray laughed from where she was floating lazily on a rubber ring. “Careful, Mezzo. You’re gonna drown blushing before the water even gets ya.”
Mezzo sputtered, splashing at all of them. “Oh, shove it, the lot of ya!”
Celeste turned, confused. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing!” Mezzo yelped a little too fast. “Just, uh… checking for crabs!”
Carys, sitting nearby with a drink in paw, smirked knowingly. “Oh, sweetie, I think he found one—and it’s pinching his heart.”
Celeste blinked, head tilted. “...Should I be worried?”
Pitch chuckled, slinging an arm over Mezzo’s shoulders. “Nah, Commander. Just watch where you point that sunshine—some of us can’t handle it.”
Mezzo groaned into his paws while the others burst out laughing, the golden light of the afternoon dancing over the waves and through Celeste’s now-loosened hair. For a rare moment, the world was soft again.
The wind carried music. The ice melted slowly in the cooler. For a moment, the world was just sky, water, and warmth.
The day stretched on, golden and wide. The sun mellowed under the sea breeze, and laughter echoed down the shore. Bonbon had claimed a patch of sand with a wild kind of determination, building an elaborate sandcastle complete with candy flags and a sugary moat she dug with a dessert spoon.
“Dyma fy nheyrnas i!” she declared, sticking a jellybean atop the tallest turret. “Rhaid i bob cystadleuydd dalu’r toll lolipop!”
Pitch handed her a melted piece of saltwater taffy. “Your majesty,” he said with a dramatic bow.
Bonbon blinked, then smiled shyly. “Thank you,” she said softly—her voice small but clear.
Pitch froze, eyes wide in surprise. “Did you just… say thank you?”
Celeste, watching nearby, felt warmth bloom in her chest. Her smile grew wider, eyes shining with pride. That’s my little queen, she thought quietly.
Meanwhile, Arcade fiddled with a sun umbrella that kept folding in on itself every time the wind picked up, grumbling about “anti-aerodynamic enchantments” and muttering equations under his breath.
A little further up the beach, Plum and Kirrin had decided to assemble the portable barbecue.
This immediately became everyone else’s problem.
“No, no, no,” Plum snapped, waving the instruction sheet. “The legs go there.”
Kirrin squinted at the metal frame upside down in the sand. “That cannae be right. If the legs go there, where does the fire go?”
“In the tray!”
“This is the tray?”
“That’s the lid!”
Kirrin stared at it. “Why does the lid have wheels?”
Plum snatched the instructions back. “Because you put the wheels on the lid!”
Kirrin folded her wings, offended. “It looked mobile.”
Ten minutes later, the barbecue stood proudly upside down, its grill pressed into the sand and its wheels pointed triumphantly at the sky.
Bonbon wandered over, inspected it, and said, “Robot turtle.”
Plum closed her eyes. “Nobody speak.”
Kirrin slowly tilted her head. “Actually… she’s not wrong.”
After a great deal of arguing, three missing screws, one accusation of “sabotage by beach goblins,” and Topsy trying to add glitter “for ignition personality,” they finally managed to turn the barbecue the right way up.
It stood slightly crooked.
But it stood.
Plum dusted her hands off with dignity. “Perfect.”
Kirrin nodded. “Aye. Never doubted us.”
The entire barbecue immediately made a sad metallic clank and sank half an inch into the sand.
Plum pointed at it. “That still counts.”
Kirrin wiped sand from her beak, still eyeing the lopsided barbecue with suspicious pride. “Speaking of folk with sense,” she said, glancing around the beach, “how come Bracer and Hughes didnae come?”
Mezzo, sprawled on a towel with all the dignity of a washed-up theatre curtain, lifted one paw. “Bracer’s seeing to some new refugees that showed up this morning. Putting them to work on the fence, apparently.”
Kirrin’s brow lifted. “That sounds like him.”
“Oh, it gets better.” Mezzo sat up, puffed out his chest, and dragged one paw under his nose as if stroking an enormous moustache. Then, in his deepest attempt at Bracer’s voice, he declared, “Sand is an insult to paws.”
Ray snorted.
Kirrin burst out laughing. “Aye! That’s him exactly!”
Plum, still dusting barbecue ash off her hands, nodded. “He did say something like that, actually.”
Mezzo dropped the impression and grinned. “See? I’m an artist.”
Carys smiled faintly from beneath the umbrella, chin propped on her paws. “Hughes never misses his walks in the morning. No one knows where he goes, but it’s always the same time. Every morning.”
Lumina, lying across a beach towel and licking condensation from a chilled soda can, perked up. “Mhm. Do you think Hughes has, like, a secret lover in Clawdiff?”
Pitch, drying off from the water, chuckled. “More like he’s memorised every street for tactical advantage. Though… it is weird how we never questioned it.”
Carys tilted her head, soft-eyed. “I bet he feeds stray pets.”
Ray raised an eyebrow. “Or he’s the last line of defence and just likes peace and quiet.”
Mezzo leaned forward again, eyes bright with mischief. “What if he’s just really into sunrise? Like… dramatically so.”
He threw one arm toward the horizon, voice going theatrical. “There he stands, cloak billowing, whispering, ‘Aye, dawn… we meet again.’”
Lumina dissolved into giggles.
Even Kirrin had to turn away, shoulders shaking.
They all laughed — the kind that came easy when no one was shooting at them, no one was running, and for once the biggest mystery in their lives was whether Hughes had a secret sweetheart, a tactical route, or a very intense relationship with breakfast walks.
