After Reynard left the yeomen, Clay found a runner and gave him instructions to deliver the chain mail shirt to the squire. Clay regretted not having time to train the squire in its use, but with the scent of battle in the air, Clay doubted that any lesson would stay with the excited young man.

Clay pushed thoughts of the squire to the back of his mind and nodded to the yeomen, “Let's be off.”

Twig, a yeomen known for a singing voice that the girls love, brought his hunting horn up and sounded a strong three blasts, signaling that the scouts were away.

Clay lead the yeomen away from the castle and toward the road to Wendolyn, fighting against the tide of men, animals, and supplies, that were moving toward the Marquis' Muster. Once they broke through the final throngs of people, Clay stopped for a quick drink of water from his skin.

“You know what’s next boys?” Clay asked, as he slid from his horse.

The young men groaned and dismounted as well. “Scout’s threes?”

“Aye, walk yer horse a mile, a mile riding, and a mile at the trot. Then do it again.” The threes were the best way Clay knew to balance the desire for speed and endurance. The Marquis had some fancy name for the three's from some book, but the name never stuck with the scouts.

“How many miles Clay?” asked Twig, looking a bit smug with himself.

“Until we get there.” Clay responded

Clay then cracked one of his own smiles as he watched Twig’s sour reaction.