Handy wasted no time and sprinted as fast as he could to the hairs. Now he knew where he was and it was faaaaar away from where he wanted to be. He had dodged the guards in the marketplace. The changelings had been a bit of a shock, but they proved to be a useful speed bump. Surprisingly large, black-armoured, doom pony bearing down on him in a narrow alleyway? Handy had dropped a roof on him. Pesky thestral responsible for siring him? He had let the good drunken scoundrels in the tavern take care of that little problem for him. And if the sounds he heard from out the front of the building when he was in the kitchen were any indication, they took care of a good number of his other problems too.