THE DOOR
Zuri smiled, her golden eyes flashing with deep, genuine pride as she stepped into the ring, "is why the Anvil does not need to move to break the hammer."
The downed warriors groaned, pulling themselves up, but there was no resentment in their faces. One of them, a young woman named Nia with a splash of silver paint across her nose, grinned broadly as she accepted Mwajuma’s massive hand to stand.
"I thought my arm was going to snap just hitting the rock," Nia laughed, rubbing her shoulder. "Mother’s grace, Mwajuma, having you at the gates makes me feel like I could sleep through a siege."
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