The only thing to mark where the creature had been was a stream of bubbles, rising slowly to the surface. When Emuel reached that spot he struck down blindly, his hands sweeping through the murk until they knocked against something that felt like a stick. Emuel grabbed hold and pulled, hauling the creature to the surface by the edge of one of its wings. It thrashed against him and cried out, but Emuel rolled onto his back and pinned the creature’s wings to its sides. The creature emitted plaintive cries as Emuel carried it back to shore.

Out of the water the creature shook vigorously, snapping its wings forward and spraying Calabash and Emuel. It reared on its hind legs as though to intimidate them, but when Calabash did nothing and Emuel merely patted its flank and smiled, it settled down and began to sniff around them both. Calabash darted away a few times and once nipped the creature on the nose, but the bite wasn’t intended to wound, merely warn, and soon both creatures were exploring each other, ending their examinations with querulous calls and flapping wings.

Emuel sang and was delighted that this new arrival joined in with as much gusto as its mate. Its voice was more delicate than Calabash’s, and he was reminded of another member of his choir. “Anania,” he said, recalling the slight woman who had used to sing the song of the sacraments so beautifully.

As though the memory of his choir had summoned them, they were suddenly surrounded by a host of voices, as more of the creatures clambered over the hills surrounding them, calling to one another as they came, singing out their joy at finding their brothers and sisters. Emuel found himself at the centre of a family of winged lizards, and as they stared at him with their brilliant eyes and flapped their wings and snorted their joy, he felt that amongst these strange beings, he had found a sort of home, a congregation with whom he could share his joy.