The beast beneath the hastily-erected tent in the gardens did not remain still for long. After a scant few minutes of sleep he had already begun to stir; an occasional twitch of his head, or a tearing at the ground with his talons, or a kick of a hind leg. Even his bound wings shuttered within their strappings. Gradually these movements grew more pronounced, and though the midday sun spooled down around his shelter, there was no telling what shadowed thoughts the demon-tainted could have. In the murky fog of dreams, was he merely hunting? Flying? Or was he rending the flesh of fleeing men, crushing the life from their children and livestock?