A timely interruption.

"Ahem." A noise from the mouth of the cave. Hjordis freezes, mid-buck on your mouth. She scrambles to her feet, with surprising agility for a woman of her size, and adopts a defensive stance.

Donald stands before you, significantly bloodier than when last you saw him, but alive. To his credit, he looks relatively unharmed himself. The blood dripping from his furs, his face, his axe would seem to belong to the wolves that had set upon the pair of you.

"Coinneach's whelp!" Hjordis cries. "It's been quite a while. When was it last, when our forces scattered you and your father's men at Tyroch?"

"Not without leaving plenty of Deanians dead on the field, Jarl." Donald reminds her.

"Do your worst, Beathan. If you think that axe will do you any good, you've another thing coming. The blood of warriors and giants flows through my veins. I am not afraid." Hjordis claims.

"It doesn't have to come to bloodshed today, Jarl." Donald responds, lowering his bloody axe. "Not our blood, leastaways. Unhand the king, and leave my family's lands."

Hjordis sneers. You make to extricate yourself from under her, to get behind Donald, but Hjordis simply plants a single bare foot on your chest, pinning you in place with very little effort.