It was just turning light on J'ouvert when Ulysses, covered in dried mud, stumbled up the dirt path toward his grandmother's house. He wore a torn shirt and khaki-colored shorts. The dried mud made the shirt collar stand up around his neck, and the pants, tight and torn in places, bunched up at the tops of his thighs. Tired from dancing through the streets of Scarborough since four o'clock that morning, Ulysses staggered with his eyes half closed, so he could not make out what was moving and whimpering at the side of the track. He had to go up close to see that it was a small, thin boy couched low to the ground, with one of his wings caught among the barbed shrubs that lined the path.

Confused by what he saw, Ulysses left the path and ran to wake Stops....

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