“We’ll see,” Handy lied. Silvertalon, whose talons were actually black as it turned out, was busy overseeing the ship’s descent. His focus was absolutely centred on the task at hand. The pair of them stood behind the middle aged griffon, his brown feathers dirty and moulting, a terrible thing to see in any griffon. Reminded Handy of the balding gene a lot of his uncles back home possessed and wondered if the same happened to griffons. Although he had yet to see anything of the like personally.