He paused as a thought struck him. The locals were preparing for a local winter festival, one of several in fact, not so much celebrating the winter solstice as much as celebrating its passing. How the hell did anyone on this world even HAVE a solstice when the length of days and nights was entirely at someone’s literal whim? Handy had passed it no mind initially, especially since the holiday seemed to be an amalgam of Gryphonic traditions from their ancient tribal days, with no cohesive theme or structure to it aside from the passing over of some huge threat that apparently nearly doomed the entire Gryphonic race in its infancy. Handy never got a straight answer about it—as far as he could determine, there was none, given it was everything from an invasion of foreign gods, a volcano or being preyed upon by the primordial Rocs.