“announced Luke, “is Twinkle.” This time, I really did stare. When Cleo had said that she knew a fairy who might own a griffin, I’d expected something like the tiny creatures my sister watched in cartoons. Instead, standing before us now at over six feet tall, was a large, hairy man covered in tattoos. He wore a pink tutu and a sparkling tiara, and wings that were no bigger than his ears stuck out from the middle of his back. “What do you lot want?” he grunted. “Cleo thinks you m...ight own a griffin,” said Resus. Twinkle sniffed. “Ownin’ griffins is against the law.” “We know that,” said Cleo. “But I just thought…” “Well, you fought wrong, dintcha!” Luke sighed. “Never mind then. Sorry to bother you, Twinkle.” “Ain’t no bovver. I like visitors.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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