After hiding his bike in a clump of bracken he climbed up the gorge and found the pool, just below the spring, deep in the shadow of the soaring rocks. It was smaller than he remembered. He’d seen no one for more than an hour and feeling secure in his solitude he kicked off his trainers and peeled away the tee-shirt and shorts from his sweat soaked body. Reaching into the blue patch of sky above the gorge he stretched and tensed the muscle groups up and down his body, holding them taut and then slowly releasing the tightness. He repeated his cool-down a couple of times and was thrilled by the intense torrents of energy that surged through him. He brushed his nipples with the palms of his hands until each drupe hardened. Shocks sparked deeply, sending his body tingling. His right hand lingered at his chest, tracing the outlines of each firm pectoral, the fingers playing through the fine covering of hair. With his left hand he cupped his testicles, caressing them gently and intoxicating himself with the delight of it…. Then the coldness of the pool engulfed him. Gareth gasped for air.

Sobered by the cold penetrating his body, he lay on the grass for some time in a narrow shaft of sunlight. He bathed in its warmth until one persistent feeling invaded his calmness: the hunger for physical intimacy that had reawakened inside him. Gwion had been indifferent towards him for a while before their fight, not even wanting to cuddle. Gareth wondered if it really might be over; that in going away for the weekend to avoid him, Gwion was really telling him as much. He wanted so badly to say sorry and try to salvage their life together. But if Gwion had already made his decision to move on, where did that leave him?

The narrow lane from World’s End wound tortuously between high hedges of blackthorn, elder and wild honeysuckle, with overhanging foxgloves and stinging nettles that rasped and nipped at his legs. His progress was slow, for the blind corners made hard cycling foolhardy, but his mind raced: Gwion; sex… the possibility of being single again. Running up to Castell Dinas Brân had been a whim; he’d thought that the adrenalin rush might just pull him from the doldrums.

Moving away from the ramparts, Gareth caught a glimpse of the boy; he sat in the shade cast by one of the few arches that had endured the centuries of battle, siege and neglect. Each time Gareth glanced in his direction the boy’s eyes were on him. Anticipation and possibility stirred and provoked the desires that had welled up inside him at the pool. He glanced again – and again, each contact with the boy’s eyes willed the prospect of intimacy. On the crown of a small rise, Gareth turned to face the boy, held his gaze, and smiled. The boy smiled and nodded.