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She glanced down at her robes, red and black weren't exactly mage colors. In fact keeping her face shaded by the dark hood was decidedly suspect, Cimera carefully let down her cowl, revealing her travel-smudged face and braided hair. She shrugged out of her black duster and folded it over her arm as she waited for her bags to be fetched. She openly studied the Scarlet Crusaders as she leaned at the bar and almost jerked when she recognized one of their faces.

It was the orange hair that tipped her off, like copper wire it shone brightly just like hers. She suspected she knew exactly who he was but it was difficult to be certain with so much hardship wearing on his face. Cimera walked over, becoming surer with every step until she stood right beside his table, he glanced up stone-faced. She searched his eyes expectantly and despite the hardness around them and his mouth, she pinpointed the familiar cast of features; the pale hue of his irises, the red rimming them and highlighting the dusty, stiff lashes; the broken veins around his nose and upper lip; and the deep laugh lines etched into his cheeks that broke up his broad face.

"Need something," he said roughly, obviously detesting the scrutiny. It wasn't a question and definitely wasn't friendly, the sustained coldness in his eyes threw her - she thought he would remember her.

"Healers." She cleared her throat to smooth the abruptness of her response. Cimera focused on the image she wanted to portray instead of how she felt, which was intimidated and flustered. His expression cleared, the surly set of his brows and mouth slackened as he included his fellow soldiers with a glance. "And I think I know you..." she tacked on. That garnered his full attention and that of the others at the table. She thought the first look had been intense, now his icy eyes were piercing her face.

"Do you?" he asked carefully.

"At Hillsbrad Foothills, we outran the plague to Fenris Isle but..." She watched those fascinating eyes glaze for a second, "Eldin?" He slapped his hands on the table exuberantly and stood abruptly, toppling the chair back.

"Cimera!" The embrace nearly overwhelmed her, she hadn't expected it or its intensity or the powerful security she felt. "Merciful Holy Light, thank you," he murmured, still holding her tight. "The wild girl from two steads down." He laughed.

She laughed a little and it was a mistake, the slight break on her emotional hold opened the flood gates and she burst into tears. That brief memory of home and his gentle tone and the tiny insight undid her. He held her together as he led her outside, everyone stared but she couldn't see wrapped in his arms and shielded by his cape. She was furious for crying but there was no space to acknowledge the weakness out loud as he hummed a peaceful hymn. She sniffled against his chest and fought down the embarrassment, it was a feat to stay tense when he smelled so pleasantly of wax, hardtack and horses, and felt impossibly strong and capable.

When she quieted down he stopped rocking them and held her at arms length to stare at her face. "Hard to believe I'm looking at you right now."

"Small world," she mumbled as she wiped her face with a sleeve, trying for composure.

He smiled sadly. "It's a miracle, I didn't think anyone was still alive."

Her head bobbed in agreement. "It's strange when there's no one left. Does something to you," she said, wrapping an arm around her midsection. He tucked her back into his arms, quietly praying.

Cimera stopped feeling embarrassed, mostly due to his soothing reassurance and genuine warmness, but really she'd reacted exactly as anyone would at finding a long lost friend. One thought dead or undead, like everyone else she'd known, she reassured herself. It felt odd not being the calm one, but not shameful. "What do you need healers for?" he asked before she could think of what to say next.

"For a raid, it's a long story." They walked back inside and he motioned for her to sit next to him, the soldiers at the table studied her curiously. She was introduced to them and offered helpings of the food and drink. Cimera explained the situation and her hopes for Duskwood, and surprisingly the crusaders reacted enthusiastically at providing aid. As the soldiers brainstormed ideas for feeding the coming force she asked Eldin about the rumors circulating around their faction and was patiently set straight.

Eldin told her of the former Crimson Legion and the Scarlet Crusaders, of how they were betrayed from within and ultimately rescued by the Knights of the Silverhand who enlisted many of them. Everyone else either joined the Agent Dawn or the Scarlet Onslaught, guilds that directly opposed their original values by including undead and shadow users in their ranks. Forty-nine crusaders had quietly regrouped after their monastery and enclave fell to the Scourge and Horde. They were considered defectors by every Scarlet branch and had begun calling themselves renegades.

They wanted to stay true to their founding values; that humanity is worthwhile and undeath their biggest threat. They reached out to the Brotherhood of Northshire who had always kept ties with the Scarlet Crusade, however distant, and were pointed to Duskwood where undead had been set loose and dangers ran abound. He explained they sought redemption for their faction's wrong doings and wanted to restore their name by returning to the strict teachings of the Church of the Holy Light. He told her they would always be known as zealots and radicals but with hard work and great deeds it would eventually be a positive. Expunging every threat in Duskwood would be a good start on the right path.

As it grew late the renegades broke off for the night, groups, pairs and married couples headed off to join the Night Watch patrol, or to the stables or to their rented rooms. Cimera's party, the self-appointed members who would handle this new task, invited her to their rooms for the night. She didn't worry about any advances from the men since many were celibate, on vows of abstinence or pledged to their beloved.

They had finally decided on wolf meat to fulfill the dwarves' contract, wolf being a staple in their diet and being readily available as Duskwood was overrun with dire wolves and orc worgs. Cimera's wheels had been turning all night, she knew homelessness and these renegades did too, except the for Brotherhood providing their board here at the tavern and at their abbey in Northshire, they didn't have one. She had lost her home twice, the tiny plot in the Lordaeron countryside and the broken down house at Raven Hill. She'd gotten use to sleeping were she could, or trading labor for a cot. It felt wrong to ask for help while offering nothing substantial in return, she needed to repay these people and as she fell asleep an idea began brewing.