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“He rides like us,” the oldest had said, squinting. “But he fights like a man who has forgotten how to fall.”
And esse Kamboja became a verb again: to ride, to vanish, to rise from the valley floor with a spear in each hand and the wind at your back. esse kamboja
Spenta did not answer with tactics. He loosened the mare’s mane, let it slip through his fingers like water. “He rides like us,” the oldest had said, squinting
