The shattered floor crunched beneath Apollo's boots as he crossed the broken chamber to where Thorin lay propped against a column fragment, his left arm cradled against his chest.
Blood matted the dwarf's beard, turning its russet strands a dark crimson. The gold in Apollo's veins had cooled to a dull throb, conserving strength after the release of divine power.
"Hold still," Mira instructed, pressing a torn strip of cloth against the gash on Thorin's forehead. Her hands trembled with exhaustion, her own injuries evident in the way she favored her right side.
Thorin's eyes never left Apollo as he approached. "Nice of you to finally show us what you can really do," the dwarf growled, wincing as Mira tightened the makeshift bandage. "Might've been useful before half of us nearly drowned."
