Grendyne Nylund groans and starts pulling on her boots when the alarm goes off. For the second time today, and the third time in the last forty-eight hours. She grabs her amulet - it still has the dregs of a charge left, after all - runs to the broom hangar, sits on her Steelwing, and is loaded up with a plethora of loaded weapons by attentive corporals.

"Three flyers in two days? They're getting way too common."

"It's worse," the commander informs her, "South Karlsland got hit with three at once. We're taking Lytee's express to deal with one, 29th and 30th are going to engage the other two. You can sit out if you absolutely need to, but Freya's still recovering so we could use you as a comms relay."

"No, I'll come, boss. I just reserve the right to complain about it."

"Good. It's all long days and hard fights lately, so thank you for sticking with it."

Gren just nods and inventories her weapons. There's an old saying. Know thyself, know thy team, know thy enemy, and you'll do well. The rest of the squad arrives. Highlander, the commander, looks over the squad, making sure they've got everything sorted. The veteran members like Gren get barely a glance, but there's little enough time that even the new, green combatants don't get a thorough investigation. There's enough time for a short pep talk, and for Gren to link everyone up in the chatter-spell. The squad pulls into the sky and ascends as Lytee builds focus and Casts.

...This is not South Karlsland wilderness.