Sioni had to agree with Lindsay, keeping track in the fog was going to be difficult. And though he meant to be the one looking for her, having some signals might help, and certainly wouldn’t hurt. So he’d carefully taught her to say, “Cer’ f’na!” for come closer and “Der’ mas!” for go away (in case of too many Chasers at once), and said anything else he might shout in Welsh wasn’t fit to learn. “Just remember F’na means come and Mas means go. If you shout either, I’ll know where you are anyway. But I don’t plan on loosing you, see?”

He ate a sandwich and drank some more juice and then went through his warm up routine as if it were the start of the game, and not four hours in. He’d done his bit to keep spirits up, and was feeling optimistic enough himself. When he began to feel like his arms wouldn’t seize up he went over to join Shanley.

“I don’t think there’s much point in flying patterns or quartering the stadium,” He said, “Because you can’t really see enough of the pitch for it to work. It’s your call, like, but I’d stay out of the center of the pitch if I was you. Lindsay and I will be trying our best to keep things exciting there, and with the Chasers mostly flying close formations, you’ll be too likely to get hurt, see? At least if you do spot the Snitch, Millie won’t be able to see you go for it, unless she’s right next to you at the time. Go for it, grab it and shout out.” He smiled and turned to go, then changed his mind. “And try and stay alive.”

 


Not Getting Any Younger