“What say you, Bin Bin?” She asked her companion, as she swept Gengrassen’s payment into her finely made metal lock box. It was her most treasured possession, one of the few family heirlooms to survive the tragic fire that left her an orphan so many years ago. “Can you live without your unicorn tail flies? No? And if I told you they were actually collected buzzing around the tails of Farmer Winstock’s draft oxen?”

“Ribbit!” Bin Bin replied.

“Just as I suspected.”