The little Colupus was lost and alone, having swum from Ranjord to flee from the fear and uncertainty. He could get back. He knew the way. But he was now afraid that he would be attacked, afraid he would die. The young monster resented his sister and father, feared his brothers - hated his mother, for leaving the world behind, forsaking agony for herself. He was jealous of King Aegir and of Queen Marella: they had power, and he had none. He was jealous of Esmeray for her confidence. And, most of all? He was doubly jealous of Ranjord’s Sea King and Queen. They had love. Clouseau had evidently never had his dam’s love, for rather than raise him she had gone and drowned herself. An unlovable creature. That’s what I am. I’m doomed; nobody will ever love me! These were his thoughts as Clouseau journeyed into a field of flowers which was vast and expansive. Among the grasses and stems were pretty, glowing blooms; he nudged at them, wondering dimly why they were gleaming.

“IF I OPENED MY HEART, THERE’D BE NO SPACE FOR AIR”