The old road had wound and snaked itself around most of the peaks, and at the foot of the mountain spring was setting in. No such luck up here. By the road there had been a few ruins, old guard-outposts as far as I could tell, but the few documents we had found had either been chewed on or faded to illegibility. Not that either of us could read what they said, to me it looked like squiggles with the occasional symbol, and Chrysalis didn’t know the language. At least she could tell me that it was written in old-griff, the language of the Griffons over five hundred years ago. Something that she didn’t seem very happy with.