They left town the next day. Handy packed his things and carried his two bags. He was now burdened by a substantial weight, but he had water canisters now, and somehow this armour worked great at keeping him barely below the lethal levels of heat. The three of them headed off towards the frontier station on foot, the griffons preferring not to fly for some inadequately explained reason. Something to do with being seen? Handy laughed at the idea. All they had to do to be seen was for Handy to take off his cloak and shine like the Vegas strip.