Pokh'Orra Pez'che woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of walls being banged.
The Elf shifted around in her bed, turning to look at the person sleeping a few meters from her.
Elena was quietly snoring under her blankets.
The memory of her limbless body hanging by the hair from Natasha's hand made her wince a little, chasing away any desire to return to the world of dreams.
She sat up with a heavy sigh, rubbing her eyes and letting out a big yawn. After taking a moment to gather her half-asleep consciousness, she checked the clock hanging on the room's wall.
It was half past twelve.
"Fucking hell," she whispered in annoyance.
The banging continued at a steady pace with the rhythm of a jackhammer, tapping at her sensitive ears and making them uncomfortable.
