“Hey,” Emuel said, turning around. The creature cocked its head and snapped its jaws. “How about we play a game? Remember this?”

And Emuel sang the song he had been singing when the creature had first come to him in the desert. When he stopped, the creature took over and, together, taking turns, they wove a complex, eerie melody. Emuel could taste the taint of magic in the air, and he looked down to see the tattoos that covered every inch of his flesh entwining around one another, moving to the rhythm of the song.

“What are you?” he wondered as the creature closed its eyes, seeming to move deeper into the music. He smiled and put his hand on the creature’s head. It nuzzled his hand and licked his palm. “I shall call you Calabash,” Emuel said, remembering the old choirmaster of his church in the Drakengrat range, whose legendary voice had attracted the praise of many a parishioner.

A high-pitched keening sounded from across the water and Emuel and Calabash raced to the water’s edge. On the far shore was a creature almost identical to Calabash, although this one’s flesh had a dark ochre hue.

The creature raced up and down the shore, calling out to Calabash, clearly desperate that they be united. However, it soon became obvious that this creature neither had the wisdom, or the intelligence to navigate the lake’s perimeter as, with a cry, it threw itself into the water.

At first it appeared to be a strong swimmer, its snout cutting through the water like the prow of a yacht. But its wings trailed behind it, weighing it down, and as it reached the centre of the lake, its strokes began to slow.

Emuel did nothing the first time the creature went under, sure that it would struggle on and reach them. The second time it went down, however, he could see the fear in its eyes. Without stopping to disrobe, Emuel threw himself into the lake.

The water was warm and he could feel the trailing fronds of weeds brushing against his ankles as he struck out.