[ Nina may smell a bit familiar to Crow; there are certainly some white bits of hair that Trassel's made sure to leave on her skirts as she walks about, a clearly marked member of his pack.

'Poe after' what author? Someone named Poe, she supposes. Fascinating. ]

We have stories of griffin in my world, but I have to confess they're a great deal bigger - and a great deal less handsome, [ she addresses that last bit to Crow and extends a hand toward him, palm lightly curled inward so her fingers are 'sheathed' as she waits to see how a griffin would respond to the type of greeting she'd give a cat. ]