‘What in the he—’ Handy thought before putting two and two together. A distressed-looking Joachim, a herd of desperate fillies hot on his trail, an angry stallion not soon after, and probably more of them on the way. It seemed like Handy’s application of the title of Casanova to Joachim was apparently well deduced. Either that or he was wildly misinterpreting the situation, because it looked like his feathery friend was quite the womaniser, and it was all catching up with him at once. He scowled in disapproval.