“Well, let’s try to find him. It’s getting pretty late,” a more feminine voice said behind him, closer now. Sounded like Shortbeak. He looked down at the ground to the crystal the witch had left behind. After a moment’s hesitation, during which he studied his hammer, trying to see if the bird had left anything permanent on its metal but found nothing, he picked up the crystal. It seemed unremarkable. Pretty, but dull, as if it was made out of cheap glass.