Jacques said something as he walked off, but the human didn’t hear it. The witch was at the festival, and Handy suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, but he could not tell as to why. He walked off, uncaring of the surprised griffons who hurriedly got out of his way, his armour clinking noisily as he trod past the stage and the tents behind it. At the back of his mind, he knew that at a festival this large, it was not unreasonable that a woman trapped beneath the earth for decades would think to enjoy the festivities for herself.