Bird Boy

Saint Roley is preparing to die.

He amuses himself by watching the ants more intently.

And concludes they are overly focused on the work ethic.

He turns his attention to the blowflies.

They lay their eggs and fly off, a sensible laissez faire strategy.

Thus Saint Roley, should he live, learns a lesson.

......

Meanwhile, Saint Malo practises pointing, trying out various appendages.

He has no success with his wings.

His wings point in the opposite direction to the one he is intending to indicate.

And yet, if he turns around, nothing happens. Not even Baldy guesses there might be a reason.

He gazes at Baldy, his master.

Baldy looks like the bird boy Saint Malo would most like to be.

Baldy has chubby legs painted with black and white feathers. And THE RISING, on his back. But the best thing is his orange pointing finger.

(Splosh having left it unpainted, as a reference).

Saint Malo has a beak.

FINALLY!  He points his beak in the general direction of the verge down which Saint Roley skittered in search of the shoe.

Gaius! says Belle. Look, Saint Malo is using his beak as a pointer.

How do you know? asks Gaius, who knows more about beaks than the general population.

Beaks point at a ninety degree angle to the direction in which the bird is looking.

I just know, says Belle. His head is all stiff and suggestive.

Worth an investigation, says Gaius, peering down the road, factoring in the ninety degree angle, and then unfactoring it, in case Saint Roley has factored it in.

There he is! Down the slope near the shoe. He looks spent.

Oh dear! How will we rescue him? asks Belle.

Wait for Arthur, says Gaius. Arthur will do it.

I'll walk on ahead to meet him, says François-René, who is bored with the business, and not prepared to mount a second rate rescue.

Terence and Baldy watch him grow smaller.

What if we do it? whispers Terence.

Baldy's eyes shine.

He whispers, Let's go!