“Positive. Now, about those carnations?” Shortbeak spied the remnants of the bread that had been stolen from her earlier, lying on a ground on the cloth that cradled the bread. She hurried over to them and scooped them up. She took one last look at the devastation the old griffon had left in his wake. Her wing twitched, and she felt a surge of satisfaction that they had gotten what was coming to them.