<strong>* HALLWAY *</strong><br/><br/>Fern lands in the hallway as soundlessly as a dropped thought.  Her scan confirms what her initial observation suggested:  The hall is empty, but for the ghostly stalk of its rich aroma of lacquer.  The rice paper chambers seem silent.  A far door at the other end of the hall stands slid shut.  There is only one difference.<br/><br/>Behind her, the formerly opaque wall of the enclosure is entirely transparent - just empty air - through which she can see Miaren hunkering before the approach of the griffon.<br/><br/><br/><strong>* ENCLOSURE *</strong><br/><br/>Sitting, facing the griffon, Miaren feels the membrane of distance bend in with the brazen encroachment of the griffon.  The sleek beast saunters closer, glorious and sigil calm.  The size of him again looms.  The size of his scent blossoms fresh in the wet ground of her loins and breast and head.<br/><br/>He marches up and drops the branch at her feet.  The fruit lays there in its chubby clusters, almost glowing with nutrients.  And now, done with his errand, the griffon seems devoid of further intent.  Shoe button eyes skim over Miaren in a neat observation.  His elegant beak lifts.<br/><br/>Then, with a turn of his flank, the griffon paces some distance away.  There he stands, looking about the enclosure with a challenging stare.  Now, he is rigid and ready, his muscles arrayed in tense strips.  His wings lay down like the edge of a blade sharpening.  His eyes gouge the emptiness of the garden as though seeking to uproot some venomous threat he can sink all his ferocity into.