She'd have to disagree with that. She's one of a set of nine, nine dark haired, tall, skinny girls, who know the shores of Anglesey like the back of their hands and sing prettily before dinner. The only difference is their ages and their names, and even those are often confused for each others'.

Cywyllog draws through the sand with one finger, creating waves and a tree, with birds flying overhead. "Usually. Though I'm not sure if it's the screaming or the water that relaxes me."