He saw a darting shape under the surface, swimming strongly. He lowered his face, so his chin dipped right in the water. Ren was using her limbs and her folded wings worked like fins, her body undulating, powering through the water. She circled the other egg and then surfaced, taking a deep breath and diving again.

Joe’s panic receded a little. She knew what she was doing. He moved his attention back to the other egg, which was taking longer to hatch.

A bigger crack appeared.

‘That’s it,’ Winter encouraged it. ‘Come on, nearly there!’

It seemed to get stuck then. There was a long pause with no more movement. Ren swam in agitated circles.

‘Maybe it’s resting?’ Joe said. 179

‘It needs air!’ Winter sounded frantic. ‘What if it drowns?’

They stared at it, feeling helpless.

‘Can’t you do something?’ he asked.

‘They have to do it themselves,’ Winter explained quickly. ‘They build strength through the hatching process – I remember that from last time. If you help them, they might not survive.’

‘But if you don’t help it, it might not survive either.’

‘Don’t you think I know that?’ she snapped.

Joe fell silent, flicking his gaze between Ren and the green egg, praying with all his strength that it would hatch safely – and soon.

Then, at last, the egg cracked in two and fell open.

Winter plunged her hands in, and Joe’s view was blocked for a time. When he could see again, she was pulling out a shiny dark green hatchling.

Ren surfaced, mewing loudly as she struggled to climb up the slippery sides of the stream.

Joe lifted her out too. He and Winter were both half-soaked now, shivering as the water cooled, holding their hatchlings close.

‘Is it alive?’ he asked.

Winter held the creature in one hand, stroking it with the other. She breathed warm breath over its body, crooning encouragement.

Joe remembered the fish. He draped Ren on his neck again to free his hands, asking her to be patient. Then he knelt back and rummaged through the backpack till he found more dried fish in a paper wrapper.180

When he looked again, the green hatchling was moving. It lifted its head and opened its eyes – that intense gold glare! – and growled lightly, greeting Winter.

She had tears rolling down her face and could barely speak. ‘Hello, you. Hello, little one.’ She sniffed and coughed, laughing through the tears. ‘I know you. I am so glad to know you, Fidell.’

Joe said, ‘Fish?’ offering one, and watched with satisfac­tion as Fidell crunched it up and swallowed, looking round for more.

When both hatchlings had eaten enough, they set to preening themselves. Afterwards, Winter held Fidell out in her cupped hands and Joe mirrored her. The hatchlings called to each other, with chattering chirpy noises. They touched noses, and sniffed each other all over. Then Ren wrapped her long neck round Fidell’s and curled up to sleep.

‘Maybe we should rest too?’ Joe said.