I looked at Mortigen, who just grinned from ear to ear. “As in, ‘men-ag-erie,’ he said. “As in—they have one. And I know where it is. Our horses are there, too—not that they’re happy about it. Come on.”
And we went. Just as we had in the Post Falls War when we had singlehandedly attacked the command bunker and proven ourselves to be such a devastating dyad. As we had when Emeline had made public her private suitors—by asking them to approach the stand during Festival—and we had, each of us, learned our competitor was also our friend.
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It would be difficult to describe the bedlam that ensued once we’d freed the animals: the brown, bucking triceratopses and the turkey-sized velociraptors (with their semi-transparent skin and pink, unblinking eyes); the Flashback-crazed iguanodons
