Ilinfer watched as Rhoynar mounted his horse and let his sword show. Then her eyes went back over the bushes. Someone was watching them. Just as she was about to charge forward to distract the potential enemy so that the knight could flee a whistle broke the silence of the dark night surrounding them. Two hands emerged from the bush. Ilinfer had her sword in her hand and her eyes trained on whoever had chosen to show themselves. "Let me deal with this." She said in a rather commanding tone, briefly looking to the knight before refocusing on the man that now stood in front of his former hiding place.

The man was tall and had sunken cheeks, pale skin and even paler hair. He looked like someone who had experienced battles and had grown tired of them, giving himself up. Ilinfer squinted in the dark that was only illuminated by the stars and a thin sickle of moon. The man lifted his head and stretched out a hand towards her. He mumbled a few words and fire lit from his fingers, licking at his skin without burning him. Ilinfer had seen this power before. It was one of the few magic spells they taught warriors within the fire guild. She gasped in surprise as her eyes fell upon his face. She caught herself and breathed in deeply. Could it possibly be that she would meet her husbands best friend at the place they used to rest at so often? 

Now that the flickering flames illuminated the clearing the northern woman noticed that he was alone. It seemed rather odd for him to be alone and not with a smaller group or a companion. She also failed to see the guild pendant dangling on his chest. However she was wrapped in the sight, remembering the sad event when they had last met. It had been a funeral.

She remembered the day as if it were yesterday: The cool last summer breeze dancing with her hair, a babe on her arm, softly sleeping, people in black, mourning, weeping. And the thick scent of rosemary and sage in the air, lulling them all in comfort as they said their farewell.
It had been over a year ago. She'd heard that the man had lost himself and quit working as a warrior. The guilt had eaten him, she had been told, it had torn him apart.

While these thoughts were crowding her mind she held her sword steady trained on the man whose hand was a living torch. Except for her surprised gasp she was her calm and assertive self. Her muscles were tense, ready to pounce if he should move. As a warning she spoke in a low and threatening voice: "Don't come any closer, Darren. I can't trust you right now." She wanted to say something soothing, something that would let him know she didn't blame him for what had happened - but now was not the time nor the place and she knew how dangerous a man could be when he thought he had nothing left to loose.