“You’re funny looking,” said the magical talking fawn to the vampire. Handy scowled at the confused little deer, but the little shit refused to budge from her spot. It had been two days since they had returned back to Whisperwood. It was a Friday, and Handy was in an even less charitable mood than he normally was. The end of the week was getting pretty close, his armour still wasn’t done, and he’d rather not find out what happened when he reached the moment that Thestrals started becoming ill for not fulfilling their needs in the middle of the forest.