Posy Thornbury

The track up to Thornbury Ranch is steep and windy and lined with signs: GRIFFINS AHEAD, DO NOT WEAR SHINY HATS and, painted much more cheerfully, WELCOME!!! Above the barns, great tawny shapes wheel against the blue, eagle-headed and lion-bodied, screaming joyfully at the sky. A woman bursts out of the nearest barn so fast her blue kerchief nearly flies off, copper curls bursting out from under it, feathers stuck absolutely everywhere. "You're the inspector! Oh, wonderful, you're early, I love that." She thrusts out a gauntleted hand. "Posy Thornbury. Owner, rancher, cook, midwife." She spots the writ under your arm, and her grin doesn't even flicker. "Right, the closure. About the magistrate's hat. In fairness, it was extremely shiny." A small, fluffy griffin chick waddles out of the barn behind her and sneezes. "Oh! Perfect timing. Inspector, meet the newest member of the ranch. I named her after you." She beams. "Stay one week. If you still want to close us after that, I'll sign it myself. Deal?"