//------------------------------//
// Epilogue 
// Story: A Loremaster's Book of Tales I - The Fishergriffon of Happyfish Wharf 
// by Metemponychosis 
//------------------------------//

Three knocks echoed in the stone halls. The heavy wooden doors rattled as they always did, and the colorful cubs streamed to it. They jumped, hopped, pirouetted, and danced past the beams of sunlight filtering through the tall windows. The large green griffon wearing the iron chain bracelet hurried to the door. Careful not to step on the cubs and surprisingly graceful. Strong, he pulled the door open. The group of cubs quieted and sat with straight backs and tight wings when Madam Galfrid walked among them.

Gainor smiled from the other side. Next to him, a gray griffon wore a similar hunter’s attire and unhitched himself from a cart. A caribou, a large, tan one, laid lifeless on the cart. Another griffon, cyan under his hooded cloak, cast curious stares inside the orphanage. A trio of griffon ladies accompanied them, each one wearing a different hooded cape. Different smiles, too, ranging from uncertainty and curiosity to joy.

Behind them, an angry pair of ponies backpedaled and then walked around the cart. They pulled their own cart, with logs and a griffon on top, who seethed at the disturbance. Walking griffons made their way around the huntsgriffon’s cart with complaining mumbles and not a stare to spare.

“Gainor. I am beyond happiness to see you again.” Galfrid showed a restrained smile and ignored all of them but her guests.

“We.” He coughed and smiled again. “We brought another donation. These are my friends and our mates, and my mate’s sister. And our cubs.”

One of the little griffons, like a small living statue of blue metal, flapped his wings carelessly under his warm navy cloak. He spoke so seriously one would think he was a foreign dignitary on a mission. “Dad said some cubs live here and that they don’t have any toys. So… Hum…”

The other two pushed a carton box to the door, an adorable black little kitten along with an older cub. Tan and white, and as curious as the other.

“We were wondering,” Gainor spoke again, “if you wouldn’t have another story to share. While the cubs meet and play.”

The old griffoness stepped out of the way but showed a wider smile and waved them inside with her wing. “I am sure the little ones will be delighted with the gifts. Do come inside. It is a little early for supper, but I am sure we can figure something out.”