"Magic thieving geese!" Cliff yelled at the older man. His tone was apologetic, but he really couldn't deny that all of a sudden, a quiet night had been shattered with ear-splitting, angry racket. He patted himself down with one hand, relieved to find that no, he had not been set on fire--despite the goose's best efforts!

Magic thieving, magic wielding geese. He instantly decided that he wasn't getting paid enough for this, whatever they were offering. And then, he felt the sack in his grasp go slack as the goose within it performed an act of Sundering magic and escaped.

"Fraw," Cliff said, as another volley--this time of energy bolts--scattered across the pond from another goose. "Look out!" he yelled to the younger guy and the golem. It didn't bother him that they all were converging on his hiding place, but he didn't want to find any of them cornered by the angry flock.

And where the hell was his familiar?