Grunhilda volunteers for her mule to carry the "rations" from Sir Halter. Do humans really eat this crap? Dried sausage? Ha, that pig had fur and a long tail. Oh well, she's too hungry to complain aloud...much.
She tells the group "Four days food for seven travelers, plus enough water belongs on a mule. Save your hands for weapons."
On the way out of town, Grunhilda passes Gillibrecht's weapon's stall, sneering with disdain. Fool human calls these clubs? Bah, his twigs would snap upon a goblin's shield!
She trudges the dirt path with her mule, careful to stay in the center of the group so those men in the back and the front catch the arrows first...
At night, Grunhilda takes her watch without comment, particularly focused on the nearby hills. She absentmindedly muses killing Jem in his sleep with a quick axe chop to his throat, just wondering how his brother would fare without him.
[OCC: Does Grunhilda have any dwarf sense about these hills? AKA, does she suspect they are dug with warrens? Any sign about that anything moves below the ground?]