A fidgeting Makas stops playing with his beard as the young boy exits the bakery. Being of suspicious mind he stands up quickly and strides (as best a dwarf can) to the bakery. "This can't be good," he mumbles to himself.
"Calandor. Morrison," he calls the others as he steps inside. "We'll have company soon. I just spied a messenger leaving the bakery faster than weasel down a rabbit hole. We'd best be movin' if you dunna want that witch on our backs."
"Calandor. Morrison," he calls the others as he steps inside. "We'll have company soon. I just spied a messenger leaving the bakery faster than weasel down a rabbit hole. We'd best be movin' if you dunna want that witch on our backs."