But Thorne didn't address Sol. He didn't even acknowledge his arrival beyond that first look. He turned back to Veylara and continued his speech as if Sol were just a piece of furniture.
"We don't have the luxury of pride, Warchief!" Thorne's voice was smooth, like a salesman trying to convince you that your house was on fire. "According to our scouts," Thorne continued, his voice dropping into a grave, urgent tone. "The Marauders are planning another massive attack before the full moon. They've joined with the Zerith. We are outnumbered ten to one! We are bleeding warriors every day. Korg's fall has dealt a blow to our morale that we cannot ignore."
Veylara didn't say anything. She looked like she wasn't even listening, her stormy eyes fixed on the rough marking of the Orrath Forest laid out on the table. Zephyra was the same, her eyes closed in a trance, blowing smoke rings that hovered in the air like tiny, ghostly halos.
