The sun barely flooded the gorge in a shimmering wave of golden rays when Zul'Gora paced in front of the room. She hunched forward, her thumbs drawing circles over her interlocked fingers.
"What is he wasting time on?" She grumbled beneath her breath.
The night's discussion didn't yield any solution, at least none she could understand, except that Adam would likely lose. She snapped her gaze toward Zul'Rakhan, who leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and eyes closed as if nothing could faze him.
"Humph," she snorted. "I didn't know that losing your manhood turned you into a statue. Or are you already too old to worry? Perhaps you should consume dry roots like this tribe of humans from beyond the sea. They become so parched that maggots can't eat or propagate in their flesh."
