The heavy thud against the thick timber door cut right through the quiet room.
"Divine One!" a deep voice barked from the corridor, accompanied by the rattle of bone armor and a spear butt hitting the floor. "Warchief Veylara wants you in the High Hall now! The war council is starting!"
Sol and Zeyra both snapped their heads toward the door.
Zeyra looked down at their naked, messy bodies, then at the thick white fluid and red streaks smeared across the leather sheets. Her hair was a knotted mess, and her skin was covered in deep bites and red scratches from the final rounds.
Sol didn't move. He didn't get up to open the door, nor did he try to untangle himself from her long legs. He just cleared his throat, his voice dropping into a loud growl.
"I know!" Sol shouted back. "You go ahead! Tell the Warchief I'll go by myself in a bit!"
