Without pausing, Edgar takes her hand. Don't you hear them?

They reach an intersection of paths and Edgar almost continues straight before pausing. A fragment of birdsong drifts to him through the now muffled sound of the fountain, and it pulls him down the right-hand path instead.

It's just a bit down that path that they come across a large, ovular birdcage. It's made of white wicker, and is a few feet taller than Edgar, and about as wide as he can stretch his arms. Inside are a half-dozen or more birds, all species Edgar doesn't recognize.