All members of the "flock" are winged people, as in the Wingtalia AU. I'd advise searching it up if you want a visual. The characters are basically humans with wings, but they do not consider themselves "human."

This chapter contains some violence and mild language. (Also, fluffy toddler twins with itty-bitty chicken wings.)

We do not own Hetalia.

Prologue, Part One

Alfred rose before the sun.

He fidgeted by the cave entrance, watching the sky intently. His little gold and cream wings were already spread in unbridled excitement. Once the sun was up, he would begin his very first flying lesson.

Watching his fathers glide in and out of their cave every day to hunt or patrol the borders only fed the young boy's excitement. He couldn't wait for his wings to shed their fuzzy down and become sleek like Dad's and Papa's.

He couldn't wait to feel the freedom of flying.

However, the sun was taking its time, leisurely approaching the sky from the other side of the horizon. He didn't think he could stand to wait much longer, or he might combust.

Matthew, Alfred's significantly less combustible brother, was awoken by his twin's excitement. With a small groan, he curled up tighter, wishing that his wings were big enough to form a proper blanket. He was also excited to spread his own pale downy wings, but he at least wanted some sleep before taking to the sky for the first time.

Hearing the movement from behind him, Alfred swivelled his head around like a startled snake. "Mattie! The sun's almost up! Come watch it with me!"

"Noooo," the toddler whined, placing an arm over his eyes. "I'm too sleepy!"

"But you can't be sleepy! We're flying today!" He tugged on Matthew's left wing, managing to scoot him a few centimeters across the dusty cave floor. "Come ooooon!"

"Don't pull on my wing!" Matthew yelped, but he gave the other boy the desired response as he sat up and wiped the sleep from his eyes.

From deeper in the cave, there came the sound of another body shifting as one of their guardians, Francis, was roused by the rambunctious fledglings. "Your children are awake, Arthur," he muttered groggily to the Brit under his wings.

"Before sunrise," Arthur grumbled into his mate's chest, "they're your children."

"Come on come on come ooooooon!" Alfred urged, all in one breath. "It's bound to be almost up by now!"

Francis gave a light chuckle, blinking his eyes open with a lazy yawn. "Shall we indulge them, or make them wait?"

"Well, we don't want Alfred to try it on his own, so I guess we should get up now," Arthur rationalized, sitting up and stretching while remaining under the comforting weight of Francis' wing. He turned his head to their impatient charges. "Come here, loves. You're not going anywhere until I've had a good look at you."

Excitement all the higher at hearing his parents awake, Alfred bounded over and stood before them, his feathers ruffled in anticipation.

Combing thin fingers through his son's soft feathers, Arthur extracted a couple broken ones before doing the same to Matthew. When both boys had clean sets of wings, Arthur finally stood up.

"Can we go now?" Alfred pestered, bouncing on his toes. "Can we?"

Francis moved his wing from Arthur's shoulders as he rose to his feet beside him. Stretching, he unfurled his impressive four and a half meter wingspan. "It is still a little dark out," he reasoned. "I don't know if it's safe for you two just yet."

"However," the Brit interjected, hoping to keep up the excitement. "We can try a couple things in here until it gets light enough to go out."

"Like what, Daddy?" Matthew asked, looking at his father with wide and curious eyes.

"Well, practicing jumping could help, for one. The two of you can try to jump into our arms."

Alfred tilted his head dubiously, not sure he liked that compromise. "Jump into your arms? But I want to fly."

"You will, love, just let me explain," Arthur told the child, laughing softly. "Jumping is a part of flight. It's the easiest and most effective way to take off. And if you don't know how to take off, you'll never get up in the air."

"Ohhh," the little ash blonde breathed in understanding. Without warning, he pounced on Arthur.

Arthur laughed out loud, stumbling back a bit at the force. "That's a good lad. Matthew, you're next, poppet."

The quieter toddler walked to Francis and attempted a cautious jump, not feeling completely sure of himself. He missed, hardly making it far before falling back to the floor of the cave. Dignity lay in shattered pieces about the cavern floor.

"Do not be afraid to jump," Francis encouraged him, helping the boy to his feet. "The sky is vast, but there is no room for second guessing. You must commit."

With a determined nod, Matthew braced himself again. He gave one big push with his little legs, with one or two flaps of his wings to help, and managed to land neatly in Francis' arms.

With an overjoyed smile, Francis embraced him. "Well done, mon chou! See, you will be a wonderful flier!"

Matthew beamed proudly, cuddling up to his papa. Arthur, who had been keeping an eye on the ever-lightening sky, finally judged it to be ready. "I do believe that it is time for our fledglings to have a real flight!"

Alfred gave an obnoxious gasp of excitement, adrenaline rushing anew. "Yes! Let's go let's go let's go!"

"Alright, alright," the Brit chuckled, carrying him to the edge of the cave. The view was spectacular, with a sheer fifty-foot drop beneath them that led to a cerulean lake, and rustling green trees surrounded them as far as the eye could see.

"We're going to try this the most natural way. I'm going to fly out about fifteen meters, and Papa is going to give you a little toss in the right direction so you can come fly to me. Who wants to go first?"

"Me!" Alfred immediately volunteered, seemingly unfazed by the drop. "Please please please please!"

"Okay, then," Arthur placed a small kiss on Alfred's forehead before setting him firmly on the ground. Unfurling his own four-meter wingspan, he dove off the side, coming back out of his arc the desired distance away. "Ready?"

"Ready!" Alfred shouted excitedly, feathers quivering.

Francis lifted the boy carefully into his arms, carrying him over to the entrance. "Is that a safe distance?" he called to Arthur. "What if they fall?"

"It's a perfectly safe distance," the Brit assured, judging it with his forest eyes. "It's far enough that they'll actually do a bit of flying, and close enough that I'll be able to dive for them if they fall."

"All right," Francis relented after a moment. He lifted Alfred higher into the air, not so anxious to let go. "Are you sure you're ready?"

Alfred gave a vigorous nod.

Stepping forward, Francis surrendered Alfred to the air.

"Come on, Alfie, fly to me!" Arthur urged, extending his arms out in front of him. "Flap your wings and fly, poppet!"

Suddenly faced with what he realised was a deadly drop, Alfred felt all of his previous confidence scatter like dust in the breeze. He panicked, frantically flapping his wings. Downy feathers shot in every direction.

"No, don't panic!" Arthur shouted frantically, realising what had happened. "Just flap your wings with your breathing." He tried his best to coach the young fledgling and up his confidence again, moving a couple meters closer, just in case. "You'll be fine, just fly to me!"

Letting out a squeak of fear, Alfred tried again, shutting his eyes against the wind and the emptiness below him. His wings moved furiously up and down, and he didn't open his eyes again until he'd smacked into Arthur.

"Wonderfully done, my big boy," the Brit praised, holding his son tightly. He ran a hand over the quivering wings, knowing that they were probably already beginning to tire. "I'm so proud of you, poppet!"

Alfred panted, clinging to Arthur for dear life, but he was grinning. "I flew! I did it!"

"I know! I'm so proud of you, baby," Arthur murmured, flying back to the cave.

"And I didn't even flinch!" he fibbed, puffing out his chest. "I'm gonna be the best flier there is!"

"Yes, I bet you are," he humored him, landing lightly on the cave floor. "Soon, you and Matthew will both be good enough to join Papa and I when we go hunting!"

Alfred's wings were still flapping in excitement, as if he thought he would lift himself from the cave floor. "When? Soon?"

"Soon enough," the Brit evaded. Despite his promise, he had no intent to let his fledglings hunt for quite some time… or leave the cave at all, if he could help it.

Francis knelt beside Matthew, smiling. "Are you ready to fly, Matthieu?"

In the last short stretch of minutes, Matthew's eagerness had grown considerably, having watched his reckless brother make it all the way to Arthur without falling. Now, he was eager to do the same.

"I'm ready, Papa!" the blond boy exclaimed, clapping his hands together excitedly. "My turn, my turn, my turn!"

Laughing, Francis lifted Matthew from the floor of the cave, carrying him over to the entrance. "You will do wonderfully, mon chou. As soon as your father-" He glanced pointedly behind him- "returns to his spot."

Shooting Francis a playful glare of his own, Arthur set Alfred down on the cave floor. He then returned to the air, finding his designated distance from the safety of the cavern. "I'm ready when you are!"

"I'm ready, Papa!" Matthew repeated, bouncing in his father's hold.

Lifting his arms, Francis surrendered Matthew.

Giving out a small squawk, Matthew flapped his wings as hard as he could. He refused to look down, knowing that if he did, he would surely fall. Instead, he remembered the advice that Alfred had been given, timing his wingbeats around his breathing. Just as he was beginning to panic, thinking that he was going to fall, he landed in the Brit's awaiting arms.

"Splendid, Matthew! I'm so proud of you!" Arthur praised, flying him back to join the rest of their family in the cave.

"Bien, Matthieu!" Francis embraced the boy. "Very well done! You will both be wonderful fliers."

Proud smile going unmatched, the Frenchman was about to suggest taking the boys down to the forest, when the low sound of a horn suddenly pierced the tranquil mountain air.

Francis stiffened, all playfulness and pride vanishing from his expression in a heartbeat. "Arthur. Take the boys to the back of the cave."

Gathering Alfred into his other arm, Arthur took his fledglings into the very back of the cave. It was too far for anyone to see him from outside, but from where he placed himself, he could still see out, should something threaten them. He sat down and wrapped his wings around the boys like a barrier.

"Daddy?" Alfred tried to see around his father's wings in childish curiosity. "What's happening? Where's Papa going?"

"Stay down," Arthur scolded at a low and serious murmur, bringing Alfred into his lap. "We're playing a game. When that horn sounds, we're supposed to hide and stay quiet while Papa goes and tells the mean gryphons to go away."

"'Gryphons'?" Alfred blinked up at him with perplexed July skies. "What are those? Can you eat them?"

"No, Alfred," the Brit sighed. He did not want to have to explain this to his fledglings, not this soon. "You can't eat them. They're big, mean brutes that don't play nice. They take our food and our land. Sometimes, they'll snatch a fledgling or two from a nest."

"Are they gonna take us?" Matthew asked, eyes wide in fear. "No," Arthur replied definitively. "That's why we play this game, see. I'm here to protect you, and Papa is out there to do the same."

"Whoa... that sounds like fun!" Alfred's eyes sparkled. The gravity of the situation had yet to dawn on him. He had no idea they were in any danger. "Can we play when we learn to fly?"

"No! Alfred, they're absolute brutes! They don't see it as a game, they see it as a reason to hurt you. I don't want to hear of you ever going after the gryphons, understand?"

Alfred flinched at the sudden change in his father's tone. "I'm sorry... I won't go near them. Are they gonna hurt Papa?"

"They shouldn't," Arthur assured, although he kept his gaze on the entrance of the cave. "Not if he's careful."

Alfred was silent then, though he still tried to peek through Arthur's feathers with curiosity. What did gryphons look like, anyway?

Matthew, though still being just as curious as Alfred, cuddled up to his father's side. He didn't want to see the mean gryphons, not if they could hurt his papa.

At the cave's entrance, Francis spread his wings and took flight. He glided between the peaks, and came to hover beside one of the other guards. "Ivan, how many were spotted?"

"Four is what I heard," the silver winged Russian replied, glaring out at the sky. "They're starting to really make me mad."

"I wish they would stick to the valley, where they belong," Francis muttered, scanning the sky for the alleged trespassers. "The mountains are ours."

"There," Ivan pointed. "They're getting awfully close to your cave, aren't they? Let's go tell them to back off, da?"

Narrowing his eyes, Francis took off toward the beasts, the severe parental need to protect his children taking prescience over his own life.

The Russian followed Francis. He didn't want the gryphons to win any more of their territory, and he knew that if he didn't make sure the Frenchman got out alive, Arthur would kill him.

"Hey!" Francis yelled, swooping before the gryphon closest to his cave. "Go back to your valley!" He sent the heel of his foot across the creature's face.

With an enraged squawk, the offended gryphon turned tail and left, leaving the other three to carry out their plan of invasion.

Arthur clenched his eyes shut, trying to ignore how close his mate's shouts had sounded, and tucked his wings tighter around his fledglings.

At the sound of Francis's voice, Alfred's eyes grew wide. "Is that Papa?" he whispered. "He sounds mad..." He had never heard Francis take on a tone like that.

"Yes, he does," the Brit murmured. "I need you to stay quiet, okay?"

"Okay." Alfred paused in his rapid curious questioning, fighting the urge to peek between Arthur's feathers again.

"Well, that's one down," Francis was saying to Ivan. "Though I have a feeling the rest will not be so easy. Flank the right, corner them against the mountain."

"Da!" Ivan nodded, doing as Francis commanded. He used his impressive five-meter wingspan as an intimidation factor, backing the remaining three gryphons against the mountainside.

Once the gryphons were trapped, Francis looked up, locating a designated ledge. "Now, Tino!"

From the ledge, there came a well-aimed torrent of rocks.

Back in the safety of the cave, Arthur decided to humor his son a bit. He parted a couple feathers, allowing the boy a small peephole just as Tino sent the rocks down.

The little ash blonde sat forward, observing the scene silently. His lips were parted ever so slightly in amazement.

Arthur gazed out of the opening along with his son, though not in anything remotely close to curiosity. If Tino was throwing rocks, that meant that the gryphons had been close. Far too close.

Outside, the creatures all shrieked in alarm, snapping their beaks with frustration as they tried to fight off the shower of stones. Eventually giving up, they forced their way around Ivan and flew, determined to get away from the rocks.

Said rocks continued to fly after them, as Tino refused to cease flinging them until their targets were out of sight. The further away the beasts got, the safer the fledglings were.

Making unintelligent squawking sounds, the gryphons swooped and dove away from the mountain, abandoning their mission.

Watching the last gryphon vanish back into the valley, Francis felt great relief wash over him. As soon as he was sure they had really gone, he was back in the caveas fast as his wings would carry him. "Arthur?"

"Are they gone?" Arthur asked softly, letting his wings fall from their protective shield. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, they are gone. We're safe." He stepped closer to Arthur and embraced him, overjoyed to see him completely unharmed. "And I am fine."

Feeling his mate's reassuring arms around himself, the Brit let out a sigh of relief. "That was too close. I had to explain to the boys."

"They would have had to find out sooner or later. Especially if the flock wants Alfred to be a guard when he's old enough." He kept his voice low, hoping the boys were out of earshot.

"I'm not sure I want him to be a guard. Not if the brutes keep coming closer like this. He could get hurt!" Arthur grumbled quietly, staring fondly at his boys.

Matthew, despite himself, overheard his fathers' conversation, but chose to keep quiet. He had questions, though, as anyone would. He'd have to ask them when Alfred wasn't there to barge in.

"It is not up to us, cher..." Francis continued softly. "As much as I hate it, we cannot stop them from making Alfred a guard. Besides, he is strong. You can't keep him in a bubble until his feathers fall off."

Mumbling something along the lines of, "I can sure as hell try," the Brit turned back to his twins. "Now that all the excitement is over, who's hungry?"

"Me!" Alfred bounded over, bouncing on his toes. "I'm hungry!"

"Me too!" Matthew chimed in. He toddled up to Francis and raised his arms.

"Well, I'll go see what I can find while you play with Papa. Sound like a plan?" Arthur inquired, crossing his arms.

Smiling affectionately at Matthew, Francis lifted him into his arms before redirecting his gaze to his mate. "Be careful, Arthur. There may still be some gryphons hiding out in the forest."

"I'll be fine. I can handle myself," the Brit assured, walking to the edge of the cave. "I'll be back soon, with all the little goodies that you can eat!"

With that promise, he stepped off and dove into the forest.

Francis almost seemed to reach out after Arthur. "I should have sent another guard with him..."

"It's okay, Papa," Matthew assured, nuzzling into his chest and staring up at him with wide violet eyes. "Daddy's the best hunter ever!"

The Frenchman smiled at this, hugging Matthew closer. "I know. And you will be too!" He kissed the top of the boy's head.

"I'm gonna be the bestest hunter ever!" he cheered. "And then you can stop being sad when Daddy has to get food, a'cause I can do it instead!"

"You're my brave baby, mon chou," he said, kissing him again.

Matthew giggled happily. Papa's Baby. That's who he wanted to be. It didn't matter if he was scared to fly on his own, it didn't matter if he had to fight gryphons or not, as long as he could keep being Papa's Baby.

The sun set much quicker that day, it seemed, and soon, the sky was darkening, blushing a deep red. It had been an eventful several hours, and Alfred was asleep before bedtime, a rarity for the excitable boy.

The Brit carried both boys, as Matthew had fallen asleep before even Alfred, to the indentation in the cave that served as their nest. "It's been quite enough excitement for me today, so I'm going to head to sleep as well. Do you have to go tonight?"

"Yes, if Toris can't," Francis replied with a sigh. "One of the gryphons caught his wing during the invasion. He was assigned to go tonight, but..."

"The poor dear," Arthur murmured, setting the boys down and moving next to his mate. "You should have told me, I would have brought him back a squirrel or something."

Meanwhile, Matthew's wings tightened around his sleeping form. He had entered the stage of sleep in which the dreams became a bit more real.

"You know he is too polite to accept something like that," Francis reminded Arthur with a small smile. "I will go up to check on him; if he is not all right to fly, then I will have to go in his place."

"Alright, love, that sounds-" The Brit was cut off by the sound of soft whimpering, which set his parental alarm bells ringing. Turning his attention back to the boys, he found Matthew with his face scrunched up and tears marking their paths along his cheeks. The fledgling was caught in the thralls of a nightmare.

Francis startled slightly at this, his attention immediately snapping to his son. "Matthieu?" He touched the boy's back just between the wings.

The boy snapped awake with a gasp, little hands flying out and feathers ruffling. Looking around with wide, wild eyes, he let out a frightened wail.

Immediately, Francis enveloped him in an embrace, wrapping his wings around them both protectively. "Shh, Matthieu, it is okay now... it was only a nightmare..."

"P-Papa!" he whimpered, burying his head into his father's chest. "T-the gryphons..."

Francis felt his heart skip. He knew the boys had been too young to see the creatures, and felt horrible for even letting the gryphons get close enough to scare his baby. "They will not get you, mon chou. You are safe."

"N-not me," Matthew shook his head urgently. It was imperative that his father understood what had spooked him. "Y-you... t-they hurt you..."

"Oh, Matthieu..." He hugged the fledgling closer. "Those stupid beasts can never get me. I am too fast for them."

"What if one of 'em is faster?" The boy's little fists clenched the loose folds of his father's shirt in fear. "What i-if you go play an' you don't c-come back, eh?"

"That won't happen," Francis promised instantly, kissing Matthew's head. "I will never ever ever leave you. No gryphon will take me from you."

"Do you swear, eh?" Matthew asked, turning teary eyes upward to look at him. "Cross your heart and hope to fly?"

"Cross my heart and hope to fly," he vowed. "I promise."

Finally taking the Frenchman's words to heart, Matthew relaxed slightly. His back still shook with leftover sobs as he rested his head on his father's chest.

"It is okay now," Francis murmured. "Everything is okay..."

Abruptly, an impatient shadow fell over the cave's entrance, and a voice echoed through the chamber: "Francis!"

"I'll take Matthew," Arthur murmured, gently extracting his son from his mate's arms. The boy froze, fear creeping back into his system. Who was this new person at the entrance?

"Toris is too injured to go out," the voice continued. "You're holding up the whole party."

"I'm coming, Matthias," Francis called, gently exasperated.

"No!" Matthew panicked, lurching forward so quickly that the Brit nearly dropped him. "Papa, don't go!"

"Matthew!" Arthur scolded, struggling to keep his hold on his fledgling.

Francis gave Matthew another kiss. "I am sorry, mon chou, I must go. I will be back before you know it."

"No!" Matthew protested, tears streaming down his face and hands outstretched towards his father.

Arthur adjusted his hold on Matthew so that he was facing away from Francis. "Just go. It'll just get worse the longer you stay."

"I won't be long," he murmured, before leaping into the air. He shot a pointed glare at Matthias.

"Papa!" Matthew shrieked, pushing away from the Brit. He knew he was being naughty, he knew that he was going to get scolded harshly, but he also knew that he needed his papa. He kept fighting against Arthur's confining arms until he finally got the opportunity. With a final shove, Matthew wormed his way out of Arthur's arms and ran to the edge of the cave before jumping out after Francis.

It was fairly well known within the flock that Francis was a very, very good father. He was always on the lookout for anything that could pose a threat to his children.

So when he caught sight of Matthew, he needed not a moment to think, and he immediately dove under him. The boy was nowhere near ready to fly on his own.

Matthew flapped his inexperienced wings, but he was still tired from earlier that day and rather shaken from his nightmare. He tumbled head-over-heels, his face quickly turning whiter than a cirrus cloud.

Francis blessed his speed. Just in time, he met Matthew in the open air, and halted his descent.

Heart racing, Francis wrapped his arms around his fledgling. "Oh, Matthieu... never scare me like that..." he breathed.

"I'm sorry," Matthew mumbled, complexion milky as he pressed his face into Francis' chest. He shook with paralysing fear. "I-I'm sorry..."

Slowly and carefully, Francis flew back up to their cave. "I love you..." he whispered, burying his face in the boy's hair. "I love you, I love you, mon chouchou..."

"Oh my god, is he okay?" Arthur asked, flitting over to the entrance. Seeing his fledgling, he began to scold him out of relief. "Matthew! What in the world were you thinking? You could have died! You're just bloody lucky that your Papa was paying attention, or you could've gone splat on the ground, would you have liked that?"

Matthew sobbed harder than before, wishing he could hide. He didn't mean to make his daddy so mad.

"Hush, Arthur..." Francis said softly. "Lower your voice... he made a mistake, but he is very shaken up..." Francis raised his head to glance at Matthias. "Tell the patrol leader I am unavailable."

"But you can't just skip out on patrol!" the messy haired blonde snapped. "You'll be-"

"I don't care. Take Eduard. I need to stay with my son."

"I'm s-sorry," the boy mumbled, clutching at his father's shirt again. There was something comforting about the familiar fabric. "Y-you can go... I d-don't want you to g-get in trouble..."

"I don't care." Francis only hugged him closer. "Getting in trouble is worth being with you."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, sore wings folding weakly. "Matthias, I'll come if you need an extra guard," Arthur offered. "I know I'm not as trained as Francis, but it seems as if we're having a bit of a problem."

Matthias wrinkled his nose. "How much training have you got? We're patrolling near the valley tonight. We can't have inexperienced hunters holding us back."

"I've got enough. I only switched my training a couple years before the twins were born. I'll be fine," Arthur assured, crossing his arms with determination.

The muscular blonde huffed. "Fine. Screw up, and it's on your wings. Follow me." He took off.

With a quick kiss for his mate, Arthur followed the Dane.

"All right, keep up," Matthias commanded with a beat of his sandy wings. "The others will be sick of waiting by now."

"Understood," the Brit nodded, using an extra burst of speed to catch up to Matthias.

The two quickly caught up to the patrol. "Sorry to keep you guys waiting!" Matthias called. "Francis wasn't gonna come either, so I dragged his mate out."

"We have enough now, da?" Ivan asked, cracking his knuckles. "Let's go show those gryphons who is the boss of the mountains!"

Matthias pumped a fist. "Yeah!" He grinned at Arthur. "Sure you're up for this, hunter?"

"Oh, definitely," the Brit grinned, a devilish glint in his eye. "Let's show them why they should think twice before leaving their pitiful valley."

The Dane gave a barking laugh. "I like you, bro."

"Thank you," was the last thing spoken before the group flew off towards the gryphon valley.

Meanwhile, back at the cave, Matthew's sobs had finally quieted to soft whimpers as he clutched tightly to his father.

"I am here, Matthieu," Francis promised again, trying to reassure him. "I will stay with you."

"I'm sorry," Matthew apologized once more. At this point, he didn't even know exactly why he was sorry, but he knew that he'd messed a lot of things up, and that it wasn't okay. If it was okay, his daddy wouldn't have yelled at him.

"Non, Matthieu... you do not have to apologize," Francis murmured. "Daddy was just scared..."

"I-I didn't mean to make him a'scared," the boy asserted. His eyelids started to droop as his energy faded.

"I know, I know, mon chou... he was just scared because he loves you." He kissed Matthew's head. "Sleep, Matthieu."

Loosing a small yawn, Matthew nuzzled into his papa's embrace and allowed sleep to lift his dreaming wings again. He was still sore, pale, and shaky, but at least he knew that his papa was safe.

Carefully and quietly, Francis climbed into the nest. He gathered Alfred into his arms as well, and wrapped his wings around them.

They were safe.

If only just for now, they were safe.

Greetings, everyone, and thank you very much for taking the time to read our prologue! This story is already written (it just needs editing), so please keep checking back! Updates will be fast and regular. (We will try our best to update regularly, but as two teenagers that sometimes have things come up, if we can't complete a chapter on time, rather than give you a short crappy chapter that leaves you feeling cheated, we will try to warn you if there will be a delay in the note on the previous chapter.)

Additionally, we'd like to apologise for any inconsistencies in spellings. This account has two admins. One is English and the other is American. We don't always catch our differences because we write together so much.

Still, we hope you've enjoyed our story so far, and we'd love to hear your feedback if you feel so inclined. Reviews are welcome and very much appreciated!

Until next time,

Moose and Paris