Two different mice stood in the courtyard, although they were of the same blood. One was standing with the greenbands who hadn't fled, one foot on the head of a tremendous warhammer, standing a touch above everyone else in the courtyard. Her fur almost shimmered in the dull light, copper fur shifting around as she shifted the weight from her gambeson from one shoulder to the other. Compared to the other recruits, she looked overdressed and over-equipped, but she wasn't about to enter the redguard without having anything to her name. She would have preferred some gauntlets as well- and almost certainly a helmet, but she supposed this would have to do for now. Not like anyone else had anything better.

When the... She supposed he was a Watch Captain? He certainly held himself like that- like he knew how to fight, and even though his body has forgotten, his brain still remembered. He seemed like the kind of person that in his youth could have picked up a sword and felt at home with it. Not that that mattered now. She doubted he could still sprint, let alone fight a gnasher.

She wasn't intimidated though. There was a black mark over her heart. Dying in a den was never going to be her fate. Kicking the warhammer's head up and swinging it at the same time, she used the momentum to brace it over her shoulder and began following him, looking back at the other recruits as if to ask them if they were coming.

[hr]

Meanwhile, Myrtle was laying out the plan to Flint.

"It'ld dus be us dis time. 'Parrently we'll be ge'ting a greenie after dis, but dey still need to go t'rough de trial. We'll be going af'er a badger, so bring your nastiest stuff. I know you like your 'on'o'tions. A few bombs wou'n't hurt, and someting dat would cause him to run or be distra'ted. Maybe some kind of flash-y, bang-y ting, or chilli maybe. We need to go tout do, so don't dilly too long on this."