Astrid is a griffon rider now — she knows this for a fact — but if she casts her mind back, she can’t really remember who taught her to begin with. How did she get there? It wasn’t Xio and wasn’t Jayce and wasn’t Desi, and so ???

That blank spot is like a splinter stuck in her thumb, but picking at it for too long bloodies the skin. She follows alongside Clarisse but her expression has turned even more furrowed, confused.

Did she carve a griffon figurine? She hadn’t had enough time to make too many of them so this should be simple enough to recall: a bear for Xio, a chess piece for Hermione, and with effort, she does think she did make a griffon; she remembers the wings had been a bitch.

“Do you still have it?” she asks. She’s a big believer in what she can see and touch: something solid.