The heat hit him first.
It rolled out from the open smithy like a living thing, thick with iron, oil, and smoke. The air was vibrating with every impact of metal on metal as Quinlan stood off to the side, arms loosely folded, eyes fixed on the figure at the forge.
Kaelira moved with controlled violence.
Her hammer rose and fell in a steady rhythm, each strike landing exactly where it needed to, sending sparks skittering across the floor while the metal rang sharp and true beneath her hands.
The elf's torso was bare save for a tight wrap that did nothing to hide the way her abs flexed and tightened with every swing, muscles cutting clean lines beneath skin slick with sweat that caught the forge light as she worked.
