Hey! I'm back, thank you to MelodySouth65, Steampunk Wilson, KaliAnn + Volonqarie for reviewing the last chapter.

So…it's the long awaited camping trip. Hopefully it's as good as Della think's it's gonna be. [Winks]

So the way this is gonna works is because it takes place over three days, I plan to update today, tomorrow and Sunday.

It might not work, but that's my intention.

Warning: Some swearing.

See chapter 1 for the disclaimer and let's crack on.

25/10/2019

So. The camping trip is finally here, We've done it, we've got to Duckberg Camping grounds AND we managed to pitch up the tents.

I'm glad we managed it. 3 PM Donald comes into the living room where I'm trying to get the fishing rods so they stand up without falling over and says. "Do you know where my camping stuff is?"

I finished arranging the rods and said. "No idea. Where'd you have it last?"

"It was in my room. And only you and me have been in my room…"

"What!?" I said, and spun round to face him, knocking the rods over in the process. Cue me cursing and on my knees picking them up.

Donald, to his credit, helped me pick them up, saying as he did so. "I'm not accusing you, Dells, I'm just pointing out-"

"There's more than me who lives here, Don! What about the boys, have you asked them?"

"What would the boys want-" Donald began. Then he stopped dead. Then he slapped a hand to his forehead. "-Huey!" Before charging up the stairs with. "HUEY!"

I followed him, cursing under my breath as I heard the bloody fishing rods fall AGAIN. Donald by this point had opened Huey's bedroom door, walked into his room and was squawking.

"What are you doing with my stuff!?"

"Oh." I heard Huey say, sounding confused. "This is your stuff?"

I came into the room as well, standing slightly behind my twin, and surveyed the scene. It was as follows: Huey's sitting on his bed, there's a load of camping equipment, including a sleeping bag, a travel flask and pillow, all neatly laid out on his bed.

"Sorry, I'm lost." I said. "What's all this about? Huey, darling, why have you got your Uncle Donald's camping stuff?"

"We're doing a camping badge at the JWG." My oldest said, brightly. "Uncle Donald said I could borrow his stuff."

"I said you could have my stuff WHEN I've FINSIHED with it." Donald said, through gritted teeth.

"I thought you had finished with it?"

"Huey, we're literally packing up for a trip away, it should be in your diary."

Huey friend and picked up a neat little red diary. "I haven't got it." He said, in surprise, after checking the dates. "Why haven't I got it?"

"You must have forgot-" Donald said, calmly.

"-But I NEVER forget-!"

"-We all forget occasionally, Huey, it's no big deal. How about you help me carry the stuff downstairs and that'll make it even?"

So Huey helped carry the stuff downstairs and after putting it down, stood dithering at the door. "I'm sorry." He said, flapping his hands. "I didn't mean to."

I had a brief memory of Feathry, about the same age standing next to a broken vase that I think was at Grandma's place and saying exactly the same thing.

"Huey." Donald said, gently. "Don't worry about it, it's fine. Look, it's all sorted, nothing's wrong. Me and your mother are going away for the weekend, Uncle Gladstone and Cousin Feathry are going to pick us up in-" he checked his watch. "-Hopefully fifteen minutes and we'll be away until Sunday night. Now, do you remember who's taking you to your J.W.G meeting on Saturday?"

"Uncle Scrooge is."

Donald nodded. "Exactly. And he knows exactly what time the meeting starts, and he has promised me FAITHFULLY-" Cue a slight eye narrow as he looked at the ceiling. "-That you'll be there on time. Okay?"

Huey said okay, they shared a hug – then Huey gave me one just for good measure - and everything was sorted.

I waited till Huey left the room before saying to Donald. "He's not always that nervous?"

Donald sighed. "It…it varies. He doesn't really like change and he's not a big fan of not knowing EXACTLY what's going on. I personally think that his life's changed SO much in the last few months that he's a little bit panicky about what it all means." He saw the look on my face and said, hurriedly. "For the better I mean. His life's changed for the better – well, all our lives really, but yeah-"

Cue a loud HONK! from outside and Donald – clearly keen to change the subject - grabbed his bag and said. "They're here! Let's get going, grab your stuff, Dells-"

"-Alright, alright, keep your feathers on!" I said, picking up my own bag.

Gladstone and Feathry were outside, in Gladstone's posh car that I forget the name off. They were standing outside the car, having a quiet conversation. Feathry saw us and his eyes lit up.

"Cousins!" Feathry called, waving wildly. "Hello!"

"Hi!" I said, running over and giving him a one-armed hug. "You alright?"

"Yeah great-"

"-Need a hand with that, Don?" Gladstone's brassy voice cut into the middle of our conversation.

My twin, who had been struggling down the steps with 2 camping bags slung over his shoulder [I had dropped mine when I saw Feathry] snapped back. "I can manage!"

Gladstone looked slightly startled, but then shrugged and leaned back against his car. "Whatever. Knock yourself out Donaldo."

Donald shot Gladstone a hard glare before turning on his heel. "I'll get the fishing rods."

"I'll get them." I said, and promptly did so.

When I came back with them it was to discover that at some point while I was gone Beakley had come out with a cool bag full of food and had placed it gently in the middle of the drive before walking off again – presumably to deal with Important Secretarial Stuff, or more likely because she couldn't be arsed.

So the boys where all standing round looking at this box like it was going to jump up and bight them or something. Seeing this, I said. "Well, who's going to lift it then?" When none of them answered, I sighed dramatically and said. "Look like it'll have to be me then-"

Donald promptly cut me off. "-Leave it to me." He said, stretching a bit.

"This'll be fun." Gladstone said dryly, from the safety of the car.

Donald – after checking to make sure the boys weren't anywhere near the door – flipped him off, before bending down and attempting to pick up this box.

Well. I have never seen such a performance! He groaned, he moaned, eventually after about ten second she manged to lift it and sent me a triumphant grin before promptly dropping it on his own foot. Cue the swearing and hopping round like a maniac.

"Geez, Don, are you okay?" Feathry said, in concern, to which Donald gave a angry yell in response.

"If you don't mind my saying, Donny-boy." Gladstone drawled, lazily. "You are making rather a hash job of that."

"I'D LIKE TO SEE YOU DO IT!" Donald shrieked so loudly they probably heard us in Mouseville.

Now. I was expecting an eye roll from Gladstone, maybe a snarky response to go along with it. What I was NOT expecting was for Gladstone to push himself off his car, and with a few quick, efficient stretches said: "Fair enough." Before proceeding to lift the cool bag up with basically no effort and lifted it seamlessly into the back of the car. He then dusted his hands off and looked at Donald. "See? Easy."

There was a beat then Donald – having managed to pick his jaw up of the ground – said. "Yes. Easy."

Gladstone laughed and said, cheerfully. "I swear you lot forget I'm half-Goose!"

We do actually, to be fair. I think it's because he's the same height as us. Most Geese are taller than ducks as a general rule. Gus, for instance, despite being half-coot has inherited the 'tall' genes from his goose side of the family and is, as a result, half a head taller than us. And it's strange because Abner and Feathry – who are also half-duck, half-coot average out at the same height as a duck. It's very strange.

Anyway, Gladstone's genetics aside, we eventually got on the road and after a lot of arguing about what CD to put on, when to stop for a break, and various other things we made it there.

It was hard. Travelling for 2 and a half hours in a cramped car [cramped because of the copious amounts of STUFF in there] with three boys, 2 of which can't stand being in the same room as each other for more than an hour at a time, it was great fun, just GREAT. And Feathry talking 19 to the dozen about all the STUFF he's seen under the sea for 2 hours. 2 HOURS! I was sure I was going mad. I'm sure I WOULD have gone mad, had Feathry not seemed to cotton on to the fact I was about to lose it and suggest we stopped for a break.

I needed that break.

So yes, eventually we managed to get to Duckberg's camping grounds, and the thing with Duckberg's camping ground is that you can't just drive in and set your stuff up. You have to sign in with the people who run it. So we pulled up and while myself, Gladstone and Feathry started to unpack the stuff, Donald went to sign us in.

"How long are we staying for again?" Feathry said, pulling stuff out the boot.

"Must be a month." Gladstone said dryly. "Looking at all the stuff we've got."

"Well we better get a move on then hadn't we?" I said, pointedly.

I think Gladstone was about to say something back when we heard angry squawking from behind us. All turning we saw Donald – face an interesting shade of red – yelling at a terrified-looking young man behind the counter. "Donald Duck!" He was yelling at this poor lad. "My name is Donald.! Duck!"

"I-I'm terribly sorry sir." The young man said, with remarkable politeness. "I really can't understand you at all."

Cue Donald's face going positively crimson as he screeched. "I HAVE A BOOKING! DONALD! DUCK!"

"Donald!" I said, as we hurried closer to him. "For fuck's sake, what are you playing at!?

"I-i-I -!" Donald spluttered before pointing at the young man with such force he nearly took his eye out. "HE'S NOT UNDERSTANDING ME!"

"Yes, but you-!"

"Hello…Harold." Gladstone said, smoothly to the poor lad. "Gander's the name – Gladstone Gander. We should have a booking in the name of 'Donald Duck.'" He said, enunciating the words clearly and carefully.

I thought Donald was going to hit him. As a matter of fact I was so convinced he was gonna hit him, I grabbed Donald's arm and muttered soothing words into his ear, just like I did when we were children.

So it took fifteen minutes but eventually we got into the field and started to pitch-up camp.

Three boys VS 3 tents. You'd never seen anything like it, because they didn't want me to help, they wanted me to get everything ELSE sorted while they did the 'man's' work and put the tents up.

Feathry was quickly excluded after he managed to hit his wing with the hammer. Twice. Then there were two.

To be fair, all joking aside, Donald and Gladstone make quite a good team at times, especially when they've got either a common goal OR a particle task to work on together, and this problem covered both quite nicely. So the tents got put up within the hour.

By then – cos we left late afternoon – it was about eight o clock at night. We were all exhausted, so conversation quickly turned to who was going to sleep where. Or rather – seeing as I was OBVIOUSLY going to be in a tent on my own – which of the two boys would share. Because Feathry – while Donald and Gladstone were trying to insert poles into fabric – said to me.

"Dells? Do you reckon Donald would mind sharing a tent with Gladstone?"

I didn't hesitate. "Of course he would. It's Donald. He prefers him and Gladstone to be on opposite sides of the country if possible. It's amazing I've manged to get them to do this together – why?"

He looked sidewards at where the boys where trying to bend the tent into the right shape. "Well…"

I understood immediately. "Ah, I see. You want a break from Gladstone for a bit?"

Feathy shook his head. "Not so much a BREAK. You see, you know I mentioned a couple of days back that Gladstone was…having nightmares?" I nodded. "WELL, I thought if Donald shared a tent with Gladstone he might be able to see what's going on. After all Donald is much more…forthright than me. Gladdy just brushes me off. And it's partly my fault I know – I let him, but-" Feathry trailed off.

Now I really did understand. "But Don won't let Gladstone brush him off like that? You're right. If there's one thing that Donald is it's pig-headed, stubborn and determined –"

"-Dells, that's three things-"

"Della, Feathry – do you want to get some firewood?" Donald called. "Rather than stand there gosspiping?"

So we got firewood.

Anyway, getting back to the tents. I suggested, as innocently as I could, that Donald and Gladstone share a tent. Donald reacted with horror and swore face-down he wouldn't. Gladstone – not surprisingly annoyed by this – promptly said he didn't WANT to share with Donald anyway and would much rather share with Feathry, who grinned and said, brightly that was fine. However I saw the little look he gave me that said 'help me!'

So, about half an hour after that, I took Donald aside and said. "I want you to share a tent with Gladstone."

He looked at me like I'd lost my marbles. "But I don't want to share a tent with Gladstone!"

"Oh really? You will when I've told you this." And filled him in on what Feathry had told me. "So you see." I said, after I'd recapped it all. "You're the perfect duck to figure out what's going on with him!"

"Why can't you!? You get on better with him!"

I gave him a look. "Just think through what you said, Don and get back to me."

So yeah. They're sharing a tent. Gladstone wasn't happy. "He doesn't even want to share a tent with me!" he complained to me later on. "I know he doesn't. What's the sudden change?"

I smiled sweetly at him. "Well, Gladdy. You were always complaining when we were younger you and Donald didn't get enough time together. Now you've got at least eight hours. Just try not to kill each other, okay?" And walked off.

I could have sworn I heard something that sounded suspiciously like. 'Can't promise' as I left, but never mind.

So I suppose I better turn in for the night. I have no idea what we're doing tomorrow, but doubtless we'll think of something.