"Thrilled," Rita deadpans as a shambler reels out of a neighboring shrub. She dispatches it absently with the flat of her sword. The park had been a more manageable search area than 'the entire island,' but it's still pretty goddamn huge. A more specific target is a welcome change. The fact that it's a castle is... yeah, probably fitting. If Greta really is from some medieval era - or just a little too into that kind of thing - sure, that's probably where she'd go. It looks fortified, at least from here, so they might even find her alive.

The castle itself isn't very big, which becomes more apparent the closer they draw to it. Most of the windows appear to have been smashed, though many have been hastily recovered with wood and formica. There's something flying from one of the tower windows, though - a mostly-white scrap of cloth, twisting in the intermittent breeze like a flag of surrender. Rita squints at it, and the thinner ties streaming off the main square of fabric. "Is that an apron?"