He wasn’t sure why he’d begun picking the pink, mauve and violet seaside daisies today but he’d been collecting a few of the pretty pink flowers of love when he’d heard a familiar caw. Looking up, he recognised the shape of his favourite friend. Friends were few these days—just a couple of people from the closest village, who brought supplies to keep him going for moons on end. He wanted for little and grew a lot of what he needed anyway. But whenever he could make out Ravan, his heart lurched with joy. Ravan always brought real news from the outside, well beyond the boundaries of this cliff face or even the surrounding villages. ‘Ah, Ravan,’ he murmured. ‘You seem to know when I most need your company.’ He waved and before long the bird had landed effortlessly on the ground, leaping almost immediately to Sergius’s shoulder. ‘You’re such a show-off,’ he accused, stroking the bird as he walked into his hut. Hello, Sergius. Got some food for me? ‘No, wretched bird.
