"The sky glows orange in the distance and as we walk I feel the ground begin to ramp. The smell of birch in the air, sweet and light. According to the map there's a good campsite nearby but no one seems ready to stop. I mean sure, my boots are beginning to hurt but there's nothing like that feeling when you get to the peak of a mountain: the way the Earth winds and dips below you; the pointed tops of a hundred trees; the sound of your voice echoing for miles." (Tennessee, Samuel Best.)

Fantastic short prose from Samuel Best. Exquisite poetry from Gillian Craig and Jean Atkin. Bad jokes.