Was it more fitting for me to abandon my prayers, spring to my feet and open the door for them or to keep them waiting in the rain until I’d finished? When I realized they were watching me, I completed my prayers in a somewhat distracted state. I opened the door, and there they were—Butterfly, Stork and Black. I gave a cry of joy and embraced Butterfly.

“Alas, what we’ve had to bear of late!” I lamented, burying my head into his shoulder. “What do they want from us? Why are they killing us?”

Each of them displayed the panic of being separated from the herd, which I’d seen from time to time in every master painter over the span of my life. Even here in the lodge, they were loath to separate from one another.

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