Anduin has fought for aid to the people of the Wards, bartered for supplies, healed their wounds, prayed for their lost. It only stands to reason that when Alem prepares the next sweep of their evacuation, he chooses to see this group of them safely through.

He is a healer of course, and he understands that he cannot be spared from the Tower for too long. But he feels it is something of a duty to these people -- even if they are not his own. There are so few as it is that can be spared for the mission. Healing is not all he is capable of. Let him defend their caravan, as they escape the mountain.

Let them at least manage this one thing.

He had been seeing to the stragglers, those who had not been able to stay with the group. Perhaps he might have known better, if only his heart was more guarded against such attack. The woman had claimed she was a member of the previous caravan, and he had taken her for her word.

Slowly, he finds himself compelled away from the traveling group and toward a seat by a frigid bonfire. He glances aside at his companion, not entirely understanding why she has brought him here, until he catches -- just there. A flicker of something in the corner of his eye, in the flames.

"...Father?"