The morning light had matured into a soft, honeyed gold that spilled across the petrified wooden floorboards, illuminating the dancing dust motes in the air. The heavy, visceral promise they had just shared… the silent oath to walk into the coming slaughter still hung between them, more tangible than the musk of their union.
The heavy, grounding silence of the room was broken only by the soft, rhythmic sound of their breathing and the distant, muffled calls of the waking Veynar tribe far below the Feline Spire. Sol's arms were still locked around Kira, his chest a broad, burning wall against her back, his resolve to protect her solidifying into something as unyielding as the petrified wood of the Great Heartwood.
"Okay, okay... now you are actually suffocating me," Kira murmured, her voice muffled against his arm. She reached up and tapped playfully on his brawny arms, her fingers tracing the hard, corded muscle of his physique.
