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Doing his best to ignore the peculiar jest of the bard, Puli raised his voice to reach the front line of riders.
“Good dwarf,” he called to Soriun. “Your conduct in battle was notable. I am not familiar with manner of dwarves in combat, but I must admit my surprise that you fought mounted upon the pony. Is that common among your people? Is such a style of fighting pleasing to your god? Can you speak on it?”
As he awaited the dwarf’s response, Puli’s gaze went skyward to trace the circling flight of a buzzard overhead. There would be a feast in the grove that day.
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It's not the years...it's the mileage.
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