“You’re up early,” a distressingly familiar voice spoke up from behind him. He froze. He looked slowly over his right shoulder. Lying there, across from the smouldering remains of the fire from the night before, was the sprawled form of the griffon, Joachim. The feathery fallacy yawned widely before smacking his beak a few times, his eyes heavy with sleep. Handy’s mind whirred, processing it all one more time. Yep. He was still in the land of madness. It had all happened: the cockatrice, the ponies, the witch, the jaw, the briar, the river, the pain, the aches, and the hangover. He sighed in defeat.