“Over there, beyond yonder trees there…” The old griffon pointed roughly to where Timothy was heading. Handy heard distant thunder, droplets of rain dropping on the ground. “Sure you want to investigate in that, strangah?” the old griffon asked, looking up into the sky, trying to discern what weather teams were up there. Handy had long since not bothered to look up when the weather acted up, preferring not to be reminded of the nonsense of a weather system that necessitated sapient intervention in order to function.