Sasha opened the door and stepped aside, holding it as Lady Riskar sauntered through.
“So polite,” she said.
“Merely the Domvichiek charm, my love,” Sasha smiled, shutting it behind them.
The two leaders, clad in thick snow clothing, waded along. A scarlet coat stretched down to Lady Riskar’s thighs, sleeves overlapping borders with the leather gloves over her paw. The collar stood up high like a pair of attentive ears, shielding either side of her face from the placid snowfall. Sasha’s larger figure was sheathed in a white coat of thicker padding, its hem coming down to just above the knees where black fabric hugged her tree trunk legs. They walked along holding one another’s paw, moving around the back of the carriage and towards the front of the convoy.
“How do you think he will be?
