Exhausted babies wailed, cradled by their mothers. It hurt Diego deeply to realise no one was returning home tonight. He lent against the tavern wall and considered the people, some shivering under Victoria's blankets in shock, some braving the trauma. His father was never one to complain – he now dozed on a rough tavern bench. A rare closeness between father and son had developed with the hurried training of the people in the plaza, and while they had passed out blankets and watered down soup.
"Don't worry," Victoria said, smiling tiredly. "Zorro will save us, Diego."
He sincerely hoped so.