Something landed in the tree above him.

Green. Small. Loud. A conure — a little green and orange parrot with a voice much too big for its body — who tipped its head at Wind and said absolutely nothing sensible at all.

Wind laughed. It surprised him, how good it felt.

He took pieces of coconut from his board-shorts pocket and held them out, moving slowly, slowly, so as not to scare the bird away.

Then he set a few small ones on the rock, and moved back — slowly. Turned away from the bird — slowly. And watched it only from the very side of his eye, the way you watch something you're trying hard to pretend you're not watching at all.

The conure got interested. It sidled down the branch. It took a piece — looked at him — and chirped a few times, as if to say well, all right then.

And it stayed.