"So, what I'm saying is, if you had to fight one horse-sized goblin or thirty goblin-sized horses, which are you picking?"
The wagon rattled over a bump in the road and Ashara shifted her weight, keeping her eyes on the sky.
"Thirty small horses. Easy."
"Easy? Thirty of anything is a nightmare."
"Yeah, but they're tiny. I'd just kick them."
"You'd kick thirty horses."
"Little ones, Mira. Like, ankle height. I'd punt 'em."
"You're insane," Mira said. "The big goblin. One target, one fight. I get behind it, cut its ankles, done."
"And if it sits on you?"
"Then I die with honor."
"I don't think there's much honor in being crushed to death via getting sat on."
Across from them, the two other adventurers on the wagon, a human guy with a patchy beard and an elf woman who hadn't said a word since they'd left Lumendell, exchanged a look.
Patchy Beard cleared his throat.
"... You two, uh... comfortable?"
Ashara blinked.
[Oh. Right.]
