My Big Fat Griffon Wedding

by LunaJack

Griffons, Griffons Everywhere

Evening was quickly approaching when the great stone tower that marked the Griffinstone airport came into view. The huge monolith sat on a small mountain about five miles from the city and the turbulent winds of the Abysmal Abyss. The pale gray stone glowed a rosy red in the dying light. Gulliand leaned against the rail with his sisters staring at the amazing sight.

“Wow!”

“Impressive, isn’t it?” asked Gigi. “Hard to believe it was just built last year. It’s one of the tallest free-standing monuments on the continent. They say it represents the strength and durability of the Griffon race!”

“Either that or the architect was compensating for something,” Gidget snarked.

“Gidget!” The offending griffoness winced as their mother suddenly appeared next to them at the rail. “Do not talk so vulgar!” snapped Guinevere. “Remember who you are.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gidget grumbled.

Gulliand looked his mother over. Despite her rebuke to Gidget, she seemed to be more relaxed and, dare he say, happier than he had seen her in the last few days. Her stern face seemed almost placid and her feathers were no longer ruffled but lying smoothly on her neck.

“You’re looking very well, Mother,” he commented. “I take it you enjoyed your… nap.”

Guinevere blushed a rosy red. “Thank you, dear. Yes, I…um…did enjoy myself. I’m assuming the girls told you about the certain amenities that come with booking a private berth,” she added accusingly.

“They did,” Gulliand nodded. “And I think it was worth the extra expense to see you looking so rejuvenated.”

The older griffoness beamed gratefully at her son. “Thank you, dear. Now, we need to get ready to disembark. Do we have everything?”

“Everything we carried on board ourselves,” answered Gigi, indicating their saddle bags. “The rest is in the cargo hold.”

“Excellent! Now…uh…Wait a moment,” Guinevere paused and craned her neck to look around. “Where is Cinnamon Roll?”

Gidget rolled her eyes. “The same place she’s been this whole trip,” she groused. “Talking to the chefs in the kitchen.”

“She said something about asking them for some soup recipe,” explained Gigi.

“Ah, yes! The avgolemono!” cried Gulliand excitedly. “That would be an amazing addition to our menu…!” He wilted slightly as the girls shot him a deadpan look. “Right. I’ll go fetch her.”

He turned tail and ran into the big dining room then straight to the swinging metal door in the back. As he burst into the kitchen, he heard a pair of gruff, heavily accented male voices arguing.

“Here, try this! I promise you will love it!”

“Ochi! Try this! It is much better!”

“I will have you know that my spanakopita is among the best there is!” declared the first voice proudly. “Just smell that delicious aroma!”

“Mmmmmm!” said a filly’s voice. “It does smell good.”

“Humph!” grunted the second male voice. “It is nothing compared to my cheesy pastitsio! Have a taste, koukla,” he added in an encouraging tone.

Gulliand followed the voices to the rear of the kitchen where he found Cinnamon Roll sitting at a small table flanked by two chefs. The one on her right was a short round stallion with a thick black moustache, curly black mane and a cutie mark of a piece of baklava. The one on her left was an equally short, fat griffin with blue feathers and snow-white fur. Both wore torques, white aprons and matching looks of indignation.

“That better not be the pastitsio with the meat!” yelled the stallion.

“Oh, please!” sneered the griffon. “As if I would ever feed meat to an herbivore.”

The stallion snorted. “You think lamb is a vegetable!”

Cinnamon Roll was completely unfazed by the arguing chefs. “Mmmmm! They both smell divine,” she murmured. She took a bite of the spanakopita, chewing slowly to relish the sharp and buttery flavor.

“Ooooo! That is delicious. Great balance of spinach and cheese.”

“Efharisto!” said the stallion, smirking.

The filly bit into the cheese pastitsio.

“Oh, my goodness! This is great, too. What a wonderful blend of cheeses.”

“Thank you,” said the griffon with a bow.

Gulliand chuckled at the scene. “I see you are having fun, Cherie,” he said.

“Hey, Sugarcube!” she cried, pulling him in for a quick kiss on the beak. If either chef found the sight strange, neither commented on it. “I’m glad you’re here. Let me introduce you to my new friends! This is Phyllo Dough,” she said pointing to the stallion. “And this is Greco,” she pointed to the griffin. “They’re both from the Mareterranian. Fellas, this is my partner and fiancé Gulliand LeGrand.”

“How do you do?” the young griffin bowed.

“Kala, efharisto,” said Phyllo Dough curtly, looking Gulliand over with a critical eye. “When this little kore said she was engaged to a griffon, I was much concerned. You see what I have to put up with,” he motioned to the frowning blue griffon. “Seeing you, however, I suppose you are…what is the word…respectable.”

“Thank you for your seal of approval,” Gulliand replied drily.

“So…you’re a LeGrand, eh?” said Greco with a smirk. “Any relation to Gustave LeGrand, the great éclair maker?”

“Yes, sir. He is my uncle.”

The pudgy griffin puffed out his chest feathers. “Well, next time you see him, tell him that I, the great Greco Macro, am coming to give him a run for his bits! I’m sure Equestrians will love my delicious loukoumades!”

“Honey puffs!” snorted Phyllo. “Carnival fare! It cannot touch the magnificence of my baklava!”

“Just because there is a picture of it on your flank does not mean you can make it better than me!” snarled the griffin.

“We shall see!” growled Phyllo.

“Excuse me, sirs,” Gulliand cut in before the two could head off to fetch their confections. “I hate to interrupt your little competition but Cinnamon Roll has to go. We will be disembarking at Griffonstone in a few minutes.”

“Oh!” Both chefs deflated at the news. Suddenly they perked back up.

“We can’t let you go without a little something to tide you over!” cried Greco, grabbing some to-go boxes.

“Neh!” cried Phyllo. “One moment! This won’t take long!”

The chefs worked together hastily filling the boxes with whatever food they could stuff into them. Spanakopita, moussaka, rice pilaf, pastitsio, baklava, and several sealed bowls of soup were placed in a large paper bag. Phyllo hoofed it to Cinnamon Roll.

“I hope it’s enough,” he fretted.

“It’s fine,” Cinnamon Roll assured him. “You’re both mighty generous—”

“WAIT!” Greco scurried up and placed one last box in the sack. The savory smell of grilled pork wafted through the air. “Souvlaki! For your fiancé!”

“Thank you both so much.”

“Parakalo!”

Gulliand guided Cinnamon Roll out of the kitchen and onto the portside deck where his family along with twelve other griffons were waiting. Like her fiance, the little filly was struck by the sight of the giant tower. She stared as it loomed gray and forbidding over the ship. She pressed against Gulliand, and was relieved to feel a warm, comforting wing engulf her. Feeling reassured, Cinnamon glanced over the rail at the landing field not far below. A crew of brawny griffons were grabbing the ship’s ropes and securing them to the dock. They bellowed, screeched, and used language that (had Granny Smith been around) would have gotten their beaks washed out with soap. Guinevere turned up her beak in disgust.

“Dock workers,” she muttered derisively.

Gidget took a quick peek over the side before imitating her mother’s stance.

“Whew! Those guys are ripped!” she whispered.

Once the ship was docked and the gangplank secured, the call went out. “All ashore that’s going ashore!”

The griffons marched down the ramp with Cinnamon Roll sticking close to Gulliand’s side. Some of the dock workers stared at her, pointing and muttering amongst themselves.

“Is that an Earth pony?” one muttered.

“Looks like it,” replied another.

“What does she think she’s doin’ in Griffonstone?”

“Can’t fly, that’s for sure,” a third griffon sneered.

Another wolf whistled. “Nice flank, though.”

Gulliand glared daggers at the leering ground crew, his feathers bristling.

“Merde!” he spat.

“Come along, Gulliand!” Guinevere snapped before anyone could say anything. “You need to pick up your bags from the baggage claim. The girls will show you where it is. I’ll see if I can hire a porter to carry your things to the house. Move along,” she prodded when he hesitated. “We haven’t got all night!”

“This way, bro,” said Gigi leading them to an open space near the ship’s stern where the luggage was being off-loaded. There was no neat little carousel like there was at the Canterlot air docks. The luggage had been carelessly tossed into a pile on the stone ground. Luckily the pile was not very big and it didn’t take them long to find their bags. It also didn’t hurt that theirs were the only ones with apple-shaped name tags.

“I think this is all of it,” panted Cinnamon Roll, counting the bags. Aside from the two bags containing their cast iron gifts, there were four others that held their linens, blankets, pillows, utensils, and collection of cookbooks. “Now what?”

“We wait here for mother,” replied Gidget with a shrug. “There weren’t many creatures getting off here so she shouldn’t have any trouble finding us a porter.”

“But why do we need a porter?” asked Cinnamon Roll. “Guilland and I carried all this stuff to the docks by ourselves. We could carry it to the house, no problem.”

“Yeah, but the airport is five miles outside the city,” Gigi answered. “And that’s as the griffon flies. I don’t know how far it would be if you carried that stuff down the mountain, across the valley, then back up to Griffonstone.”

“Good point,” said Cinnamon Roll. “And I guess the bags are too heavy for ya’ll to carry?”

“Not necessarily, but the law in Griffonstone states that all baggage over a certain size must be secured in a cart. You know, to keep griffons safe from falling objects.”

“And to keep the porters employed,” added Gidget. “You wouldn’t believe the measures some griffs take to avoid spending bits.”

Further discussion was halted as Guinevere appeared followed by a large, surly-looking griffon pulling a winged wagon behind him. He was big and muscular with the bright red feathers of a cardinal on his front half and the fur of a black jungle cat in the back. He spat on the ground then jerked his thumb at the bags.

“This it?” he asked in a deep voice.

“Yes,” replied Guinevere. “Six bags. Oh, and one pony passenger.”

The red feathered griffon regarded the brown filly, weighing her with his eyes. “Two bits more for the pony.”

Guinevere winced but handed over the money. The griffon quickly loaded the cart. The heavier bags were placed on the bottom while the softer ones were piled to form a cushion on the top.

“Get in,” he ordered Cinnamon Roll gruffly. “And make sure you’re buckled in. Can’t have you fallin’ on somegriff.”

The filly nodded and allowed Gulliand to assist her into the cart. They located the seatbelt, a pair of faded, dirty black straps with metal buckles, and soon she was locked in. The porter pulled the wagon towards a wide field on the other side of the tower where the ground was black and perfectly smooth. White lines marked out a runway that led to a well-lighted ramp in the distance. Standing on a small elevated platform next to the ramp, a griffon with a glowing red wand waved them forward. The porter smirked at Cinnamon Roll over his shoulder.

“Hold onto your flank.”

Cinnamon Roll hung on tight as they barreled down the runway. In a way, it reminded her of the time she and Cinnamon Stick had accidently gone airborne while sledding down Apple Tree Hill. One moment they were on solid ground, the next they were flying through space with nothing beneath them but the sled. It was an exhilarating moment. As the cart took flight, Cinnamon couldn’t help but cry out.

“YEEEEEEEHAAAAAAW!”

The porter looked back at her with begrudging respect. “Ya sure ain’t a coward,” he snorted.

Gulliand sailed up next to her on the right. “Are you all right, Cherie?”

“I’m fine!” she called back cheerfully. “Just wish it wasn’t gettin’ dark. I’d have liked to see the town.”

“Not much to see,” said Gigi, coming up on the left. “Griffonstone doesn’t have fancy buildings like Canterlot. The Great Grover Tree is pretty impressive though.”

“Oh! Gulliand told me all about the tree! It’s a giant ash that stands on the top of Mount Aerie. He said it’s so huge, the entire castle of King Grover was built in the crux of one of its branches!”

“That’s right!” the griffoness smiled proudly. “It’s the biggest tree in the known world! If you look to your right, you can see it over there!”

“Whoa!”

Even in the dying light, the Great Grover Tree was a wonder to behold. With its roots deeply anchored in the mountain, the tree’s enormous trunk had grown at an angle so its upper half leaned over a steep gorge. Its branches, each as wide as a Canterlot city block spread out from the trunk, forming roads that ended in talon-shaped twigs. Little houses like bird’s nests were nestled in these smaller branches. Lights from their windows shone like yellow stars against the darkening sky.

“Whoa,” said Cinnamon Roll again as they flew past. “Good thing it ain’t an apple tree. I don’t think all of Appleloosa could buck that thing!”

Gulliand chuckled. “But think of all the dumplings you could have made with the fruit!”

Before long, the group approached a plateau just north of the Great Grover Tree. Cinnamon Roll could see houses, some as large as the Apple family’s barn, dotted across its surface. The porter, guided by Guinevere, brought them in for a landing in front of an enormous white house with a smooth slate drive.

“Home sweet home,” said Gidget, landing nearby.

“Wow!” breathed Cinnamon, taking in the sight. The house was at least three stories high, box-shaped, and lined with white fluted columns that made her think of ancient Romane. Between these columns were tall arch-shaped windows, similar in shape to the stained-glass windows in the Canterlot palace but filled with plain panes of clear crystal. In the center of the wall, were a pair of large oaken doors with black iron hinges and ring handles. Guinevere briskly walked up to these doors which seemed to slowly swing open of their own accord.

“All right, let’s get unpacked,” she said over her shoulder as she stepped inside. “Hurry, now! Chop-chop!”

This last order was directed to the porter. The surly griffon swiftly unhitched and started carrying bags into the house. Gigi and Gidget joined their mother. Cinnamon Roll, who was used to assisting her Uncle Big Mac, couldn’t help feeling she ought to help somehow. She hauled the bags up and hoofed them to the porter.

“Here ya go.”

The red griffon simply grunted and took the bags. Gulliand assisted by hauling out the heavier ones containing the iron. He would have carried it into the house but the porter snatched it from him, growling into his face.

“Back off, rich kid.”

Gulliand held up his talons placatingly and quickly backed away. “Come along, Cherie,” he said, lifting Cinnamon Roll from the wagon bed. “I don’t believe he wants any assistance.”

The little filly nodded but was still reluctant to just leave. She remembered all the times she had assisted Applejack or Spike with deliveries and how tired and hungry the work had left her. She waited till the griffon was finished before quickly stepping forward.

“Thank you for your help,” she said warmly.

“Whatever.” The griffon mumbled, brushing past her to hitch up. Cinnamon Roll followed him.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

The griffon turned his head, his eagle eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Why are you asking?”

“No reason,” Cinnamon Roll replied with a shrug. “I just got a lot of food from the ship and I sure can’t eat it all. Here…” She opened the sack the chefs had given her and began hoofing boxes into the startled griffon’s claws. “This one is rice pilaf and green beans. And this one has souvlaki. It’s made with grilled pork. Oh, and here’s a few pieces of baklava for dessert. I think you’ll like that…”

Gulliand could have laughed at the look on the griffon’s face. He looked surprised, suspicious, and maybe even a little embarrassed. He stood there, staring at the boxes in his claws as if he didn’t know how they got there then looking uncertainly at Cinnamon Roll.

“What’s the catch?” he asked.

“No catch,” said Cinnamon Roll with a shrug. “I just thought you might be hungry. And I sure don’t need all this food.”

He still looked unsure.

“It’s a pony thing,” Gulliand told him.

The porter seemed to accept that. Carefully, he placed the boxes in the back of the wagon and hitched up.

“Thanks,” he grumbled low. With a few flaps of his wings, he and his wagon disappeared into the night.

Gulliand sidled up beside his fiancée and gave her a playful shoulder hug. “You do realize we would have gladly helped you eat all that, right?”

“I know,” said Cinnamon Roll, giving him an affectionate nuzzle. “But don’t worry. I made sure there was plenty of souvlaki left in the sack.”

The griffon lifted her chin with a wingtip as he gazed lovingly into her eyes. “You are so good to me, Cherie.”

“AHEM.”

The two turned to see Guinevere standing in the doorway, a disapproving frown on her face. Cinnamon Roll chuckled softly as Gulliand comically rolled his eyes. “Coming, mother!”

The little filly was quickly ushered inside and into an arch-shaped foyer with a black marble floor. She was surprised when a blue-feathered griffon wearing a black suit silently appeared in front of her. He looked to be about Guinevere’s age, his feathers and smoke-colored fur fringed in white. Without a word he took their bags and placed them across his shoulder.

“The paper sack is full of food,” Gullaind told him. “You can put it in the kitchen,”

The griffon nodded gravely and trotted away. Cinnamon silently watched him go.

“That’s Gordon, the butler, in case you’re wondering,” said Gulliand, following her gaze. “Father hired him before I was born and he’s been here ever since. He doesn’t talk much, but he’s very reliable.”

Cinnamon simply nodded and allowed him to escort her into the next room. Beyond the foyer, the space opened up into a room that was roughly the size of two buckball courts. The ceiling was three stories high with an enormous crystal chandelier hanging over the center. On the opposite wall were several dark wooden bookcases loaded with heavy tomes. Two overstuffed chairs with floor lamps formed a reading corner. Towards the center of the room sat a long, brown overstuffed sofa, three equally fat chairs and a black iron coffee table with a crystal glass top. On the side closest to Cinnamon stood a dining table of the blackest mahogany, long enough to seat most of the Apple family kin. In the wall next to it was a beautifully built wooden door that led into the kitchen. Cinnamon stood still and took it all in.

“Wow!” she breathed. “You sure have a beautiful house!”

“Thank you, my dear,” said Guinevere who happened to be standing nearby. “It was built by my husband’s grandfather. He had a thing for the ancient Romane empire. This room was meant to be an atrium but the Griffinstone weather prevented it having a glass roof.”

“Wow!” Cinnamon whispered again. She looked up and noticed what appeared to be a wide landing that ran the length of the left wall. “What’s that up there?” she asked.

“That is the second story,” said Guinevere matter-of-factly. “That’s where the bedrooms are.”

Cinnamon Roll frowned. “Why doesn’t it have a railing?”

“A railing?” Guinevere looked puzzled. “Why would there be a railing?”

“To keep ya from fallin’ off and gettin’ hurt,” replied Cinnamon, giving the griffoness a strange look. “I mean…ain’t you scared of fallin’?”

Gidget burst out laughing. “Are you kidding? Watch this!”

With a few quick flaps, the snarky griffoness flew up and perched on the landing so her cat half was hanging precariously over the edge. Smirking, she continued to lower herself until almost her entire back half was curved under the landing. She looked like a cross between a parakeet and a cat trying to get in a window. With a flap of her wings, she righted herself again.

“You see? No problem!”

“Besides,” added Gigi. “If there were rails, we wouldn’t be able to fly up.”

“Fly up?” Cinnamon looked around the room. “There’s no stairs?”

Gulliand facepalmed. “Sacre Bleu! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you that little detail!”

“The griffons in some of the poorer hovels use a crude kind of staircase,” explained Guinevere. “In mansions like these,” she gestured at the wide-open space. “You fly up.”

“It’s a status thing,” Gigi shrugged.

“I…I see.” Cinnamon Roll gazed doubtfully at the unprotected landing. She was not afraid of heights, but she did have a fear of falling. Accidents on the farm were common, and falls were among some of the worst. She herself had never suffered a serious accident, but she had seen her Ma laid up for over a month after falling from the loft. And that landing was about as far off the ground as the hay loft…

“Are you all right, Cherie?” Gulliand’s voice whispered low in her ear.

“Yeah,” the little filly gulped. “I just didn’t expect there to be no stairs. Do you have any bedrooms on the ground floor?” She asked Guinevere.

The griffoness sniffed. “The only ones on the ground floor are in the servant quarters and those are all in use. Besides, my dear, you are engaged to my son. It would be unseemly for you not to take your rightful place upstairs.”

“Mother, please,” snapped Gulliand holding up a talon. He turned to Cinnamon Roll and spoke reassuringly. “It’s all right, Cherie. You don’t have to sleep upstairs if it worries you. We can make you a bed on the couch—”

“No, that’s okay,” Cinnamon Roll interrupted. If her soon-to-be-husband’s family slept upstairs in a house that had no stairs and no safety railing, then, by golly, she reckoned she could do it, too. “I’ll give it a try, if you can fly me up there.”

The griffon responded by wrapping his strong arms around her barrel and flying her up to the second floor. They landed next to Gidget who was now sprawled across the floor like a cat. She grinned at Cinnamon approvingly.

The landing was not as precarious as it had seemed from below. It was actually quite wide, big enough for two griffons to walk side by side without fear of toppling over the edge. It was also covered in carpet instead of marble which made slipping less likely. Cinnamon tested this by marching down the length of the landing, doing an about-face, then marching back.

“So, what do you think?”

Cinnamon smiled. “I think I can handle this,” she said.

“Lovely,” exclaimed Guinevere as she and Gigi joined them on the landing. “But, now, it is getting late. We’ve had a long day and it’s time we went to bed.”

“Yes, ma’am,” everyone answered obediently.

“Come Cinnamon Roll. Your bedroom is next to mine.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Cinnamon followed the griffoness to the proffered room, opened the door and stuck her head inside. “Hay!” she cried in surprise. “There’s a great big ol’ nest in here!”

Gidget fell out laughing. “Wow, bro! You really didn’t prepare her for griffon bedrooms!”

Cinnamon blushed. “Well, he always slept in a bed back in Canterlot,” she retorted.

Gidget and Gigi exchanged knowing leers.

“I lived in a one room apartment off campus!” Gulliand shouted. “Anyone could see my bed. Get your minds out of the gutter!”

Cinnamon Roll walked over to the nest. The outside appeared to be made of sticks carefully woven together to form a basket. Inside, she was relieved to see a standard mattress and a multitude of soft, comfortable pillows. Using a small stair, she climbed inside and flopped down. Oh, yes! The nest felt lovely! More than big enough to move around in, yet snug enough to be comforting. The griffons watched her in amusement.

“So, what do you think, Cherie?” asked Gulliand.

Cinnamon Roll peeked her head over the edge of the nest.

“PEEP!”

Gulliand, Gigi and Gidget literally hit the floor laughing. Even Guinevere couldn’t help chuckling at the funny sight. Giggling, the little filly lay back down. “I think this will be perfect,” she said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my dear.” Guinevere turned and ushered the still chortling siblings out the door. “If there is nothing else, we shall see you in the morning. Good night!”

“Good night everypo—I mean griff!”

“Good night, Cherie.”

“Night!”

“Don’t let the bedbugs bite! OUCH! Mother!”

“We don’t have bedbugs! The idea!”

Guinevere closed the door and let out a heavy sigh. “All right, good night everyone. I’ll see you all at breakfast in the morning. Remember, Gigi, you have dancing lessons tomorrow at 10.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“And Gidget, you have your grammar lessons, followed by Prench, Bitalian, and Political Science.”

“Yes, Mother,” Gidget sighed.

“I will be taking Gulliand and Cinnamon Roll tomorrow to look at that property, so I expect you both to behave while I’m gone.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the girls chorused.

“Very well, to your rooms now! Go on, shoo!”

The girls raced to their rooms and slammed the doors. Gulliand, however, remained where he was.

“All right, Mother,” he said quietly. “Where is he?”

Guinevere looked startled. “Where is whom, dear?”

“Uncle George. The girls told me he was living with us again.”

“Oh,” Guinevere sighed sadly. “I knew we would be out of town a while, so I sent him to stay with your Aunt Garbo. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Aunt Garbo?” Gulliand winced.

“I know, I know it wasn’t ideal but I had no choice! The servants couldn’t do anything with him and Garbo is the only other family member he listens to.”

“Hard to ignore someone who screeches at you all the time,” snarked Gulliand.

“He’ll be home tomorrow,” Guinevere promised. She dropped her eyes apologetically. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you know earlier. But there was so much going on between you coming home and your father…” her voice drifted off hopelessly.

“The girls told me about that too.” Gulliand slid his arm across his mother’s shoulder and softly nuzzled her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, dear,” Guinevere whispered gratefully. They stayed like that a moment longer before the griffoness drew herself up, once again the prim diplomat’s wife. “Now, off to bed with you. We have a lot to do tomorrow!”

“Yes, Mother. Bonne nuit!”

Guinevere waited until her son had vanished into his room before heading to bed. As relaxing as her day had been, she was still weary and in need of some sleep. Yawning, she reached for the door.

“Miss Guinevere?”

The griffoness whirled around to find Cinnamon Roll standing nearby, looking at her with some urgency.

“Yes? What is it?”

“Um…I was just wonderin’…. Where’s the bathroom?”

Author's Note:

I attend a Greek Orthodox Church so I knew I HAD to add some Greek dishes somewhere in this story. I was going to introduce Uncle George in this chapter but there was so much that needed to be shown, I decided to wait.
Thank you for your patience.

Comments

[Darth Wrex]

Your welcome

[fechlin]

Nice new chapter

[LunaJack]

10809970
Thank you.

[Demonfoxy]

HELLL YEAH ITS BACK BABY!!! I'm sooo glad i decided to check my libray for this story. Keep up the good work!

[LunaJack]

10811109
Thank you, I will!