I was right. They turned out to be eggsacs. The gargantuan creatures nesting next to the Goop Factory have scattered, but halfburied in the overturned earth are hundred-foot eggsacs, white and smooth in protective silks.

I've been taking lessons from the Flight Instructor. It was she who polished my wings the other day, but today she taught me about form. You would think (and I thought) that this ought to be effortless for me, but I took a shot to the shoulder about two years ago and when I came to, both my arms and wings were completely numb and limp. I recovered, but not completely, and flying has been painful for me since.

So I listen to the flight instructor. First she set the struts, then she pulled the strings and ribbons. Neither of these were easy. "Now you are a griffin," she says, "Now you are the Sphinx." My scales began to flutter. "Now this is how you hold your regal neck." I began to relive the moment of injury, the blow that left me laid low and bowed.

"Next lesson, I teach you how to flap." And shuttled me out the door.

I want to say something here about patience and pain. But I'm very very tired.