When the pair finally ceased their bickering and decided to wander off into a kind of tense silence, Shortbeak saw that their discourse proved no more illuminating about what lay before than it otherwise might have. One of the griffons, grey-headed but with black wings and a stark white coat, hung with resignation on his features. His forelegs tied across his chest with rope, and with a rear leg ensnared in a hang trap, he looked rather ridiculous, as what would have been fierce red eyes regarded their surroundings as he slowly turned with the wind. His compatriot, black-feathered and noticeably smaller than him, lay partially buried in a pitfall, with the husk of tree indeed pinning him there as it covered almost the entirety of the pit mouth, pinning his upper body against its edge.