Everyone turned to Boren, who stood in the doorway, panting heavily. Sweat trickled down the sides of his round face, and the flesh along his cheeks trembled faintly with each uneven breath he took.
The urgency that had propelled him into the room lingered in his posture; his shoulders were stiff, and his eyes were wide and unsettled, as if delivering what he carried hadn't lightened the burden in his hands.
Sage frowned slightly at the sight not out of irritation but from quiet concern. He gestured toward the chair beside him with a steady motion meant to soothe rather than command.
"What is it?" Sage asked, keeping his voice even and grounded, deliberately slower than Boren's frantic breathing. "Take a breath first. You look like you've just outrun something."
Boren shook his head faintly, swallowed hard, and stepped forward instead of sitting.
