[ There is a reasonable explanation for this. It involves an unforgiving sun, and too few horses, and nearly a year without a solid night's rest, and the limits of even a large muscly Warden's endurance, and not being terribly subtle, honestly.
He hoists himself into the cart while it's still moving--slowly, so that's nothing impressive, and if it were he'd ruin it with the graceless collapse onto the floor of it, slumped back against crates with with his legs hanging out the back and his head level with Sabine's shoulder. ]
In Ferelden, [ he says, ] we have these things called clouds. Like that-- [ he points upward at a lonely wisp of white ] --but bigger. Shadier.
action.
He hoists himself into the cart while it's still moving--slowly, so that's nothing impressive, and if it were he'd ruin it with the graceless collapse onto the floor of it, slumped back against crates with with his legs hanging out the back and his head level with Sabine's shoulder. ]
In Ferelden, [ he says, ] we have these things called clouds. Like that-- [ he points upward at a lonely wisp of white ] --but bigger. Shadier.