"I am," Alistair says.

He glances back down at the soldiers. Nudges one into a straighter line with the toe of his boot. That doesn't count as playing with them. He's only making them appealing for whatever child might come back for them. Or wander past next. Or live nearby and, probably, judging by the state of southern Ferelden as a whole even a decade after the Blight, not have many toys.

"Are you headed away from it?"