Ivorybeak grumbled along the way for the rest of the day as they reached a small station near the Brackenwoods. Apparently the area was known for its satyrs or something. Handy wasn’t paying attention. The small band waited here. When Handy asked why they simply didn’t go straight to the Hoofshire station, which was closer, rather than this one out in the middle of nowhere, he was simply told that this was a far more important route. Not that he was one to argue, being the hired help, but you normally don’t associate train stops in the middle of nowhere as being important, enquiring further proved illuminating.