"Democracy?" Raiden hummed, jogging a step behind her while his pink tails swished merrily through the cold air. "Sweetheart, I don't think they even know what that word means, but I love where your head is at."
The crowd around the registration arches parted like the Red Sea as Hana approached. The low, heavy thud of Caspian's footsteps right behind her was enough to send a wave of instinctive terror through the surrounding herbivore refugees, forcing them to press themselves against the barrier walls.
At the center of the clearing, six tall Snow Leopard elders—adorned in thick white fur cloaks and polished bone amulets—were towering over a terrified boar intake guard.
