Coney

Coney is tremendously relieved as she watches the turtle sink beneath the waves once more.

--

Once the group assembles on the shore, Coney cheerfully thanks the crew for waiting. Turning to look at the long, long expanse of fields ahead, quickly pulls out their rod of travel.

"Ah. The tyranny of the legged strikes again."

Coney eaves the rod, and a set of shadowy mounts appears. Coney hops onto hers and shrugs at her colleagues.

"Well, if the Sage had an issue with magical servants, they'd hire real people to work the gardens."

She zips through the fields, resisting the urge to sample the food being grown. She pauses to consult her colleagues.

"It's interesting. This is more food than one person can eat. There must be a household or something here somewhere."

Coney zips up the tower on her mount, very happy not to have to hop a thousand times to get up the steps. At the top, when they reach the birdlike person, Coney glances at her colleagues, clearly perplexed.

"Why do people usually come here? We want to consult the sage."