Cadwyn sat against a rock under an overhang not too far from Wilvamair, where a shrug accompanied his response. "Maybe Grum. That's always a good one, I think." Thereafter he produced his own smoking pipe and filled it. Once it was set in the corner of his mouth, metallic fingers snapped and so a small cyan light ignited the contents.

"Maybe think of a funny thing that bird does. Go with that."