“Don’t. Move,” Handy hissed dangerously. The blinking, confused griffon did not look familiar; young, grey-feathered with a hint of green, and blue-eyed. Handy wasted no time. He had something sharp held in the same hand as the expensive brick he was now shining in the griffon’s face. He hurriedly ran the blade across the flesh of the griffon’s foreleg just beyond his claw.