Meanwhile, Clemence was indeed still alive. Better still, she was living out her fantasy, alternating between waterbound animals and machines, quite the switchable character. Perhaps in the human world, she would have been diagnosed with schizophrenia or another mental disease involving multiple personas. But Clemence was as healthy as they come, both physically and mentally.
At first, she’d surfed the tide alongside the herons, then, aboard Heron Airways she'd travelled and explored the world. Within the space of 5 seasons, she’d developed beautiful flying techniques and would occasionally school young ducks in in-flight sharp turns and smooth, gliding landings. She did this to earn food and shelter. These were the only times she was happy being a duck.
Otherwise, she’d mosey off to new lands in search of inspiration and new identities. She’d even gone as far as becoming a swimming human. She’d spotted one in the south continent in a very hostile environment. He had been swimming on his back – which unfortunately Clemence was unable to do – but she’d compensated for that shortcoming by deciding that only lame humans swam on their backs. You see, Clemence had soon discovered that life wasn’t a function of limitations, but rather of perception.
Fellow ducks and especially male ducks considered her quite the philosopher. They were without doubt intimidated by her fearless disposition, but fiercely attracted to the mischievous glint in her eye. One of them, Harry from Bangladesh, had even gone so far as to follow her on one of her inter-continental trips. He too had hitched a ride on Heron Airways. He’d been desperately attracted to the way she mystically transcended her duck self into another being. She’d thought him fat and short but quite entertaining. Their idyll came to an end when Harry remembered he was otherwise taken, and Clemence got on with her life.
On the eve of her 7th birthday, she’d spared a thought for her family and wondered whether Mona had lost her baby fat.
