"Send a message to Theramore right away. We need reinforcements as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir, right away, sir." Oreil saluted and left the watch office to go find the scrying stone that Lady Proudmoore had provided to facilitate communication between Northwatch and Theramore. Detailed conversations couldn't be held through it, but messages could be sent.

Rych scratched his cheek thoughtfully. "Uh, sir, with all due respect, and all—is this bein' such a good idea, sir?"

"Very much so." Davin sat back down at his desk, no longer feeling the need to rip out his beard hairs now that he was taking action. "I'm not letting those greenskinned bastards catch us off guard."

Aegwynn really wished the annoying young woman would just go away.

That wasn't going to happen, of course. Aegwynn was too much of a realist to think otherwise. But it didn't stop her from wishing it with all her heart. She had been alone for two decades and had come to appreciate being by herself. Indeed, she'd been happier these past twenty years than the hundreds of years prior to her exile to Kalimdor.

She had truly hoped that these highlands, surrounded as they were by impassable mountains, were remote enough, and that the wards were low—level enough, that no one would find her. In retrospect, that was a forlorn hope.

"I can't believe you're still alive."

This Proudmoore woman sounded like a teenager. Aegwynn knew it wasn't her standard mode only because she had modulated into it upon learning who Aegwynn was.

Proudmoore went on: "You've always been one of my heroes. When I was an apprentice, I studied the records of your deeds—you were the greatest of the Guardians."

Shuddering at the thought of what those doddering old fools at the Violet Citadel would have written about her, Aegwynn said, "Hardly." Unable to stand this anymore, she lifted the bucket of water and headed back to the hut. If she was lucky, Proudmoore would leave her be.

But Aegwynn wasn't particularly lucky today.

Proudmoore followed her. "It was because of you that I was able to become a wizard."

"Reason enough for me to be sorry I became one," Aegwynn muttered.

"I don't understand—why are you here? Why haven't you told anyone you're still alive? Honestly, we could've used your help against the Burning—"

Dropping the bucket to the ground, Aegwynn whirled on Proudmoore. "I am here for my own reasons, and they are not yours to know. Now leave me in peace!"

Unfortunately, all this served to do was cause Proudmoore to drop the teenager affect and go back to being the leader she apparently was. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Magna. You're too important to—"

"I'm not important to anything! Don't you understand, you stupid little girl? I'm not fit for human company—or orc company, troll company, dwarf company, you name it."

That got the infant's back up. Aegwynn could see the magic roiling within her and realized that, child though she may be, she was quite powerful. She had gotten through the wards without Aegwynn's even noticing, after all, and that bespoke a certain skill. "I'm not a ‘little girl. I'm a wizard of the Kirin Tor."

"And I'm a thousand years old, so as far as I'm concerned, you've got a few centuries to go before I might consider calling you something other than a little girl, little girl. Now go away—I just want to be left alone."

"Why?" Proudmoore sounded genuinely confused, which led Aegwynn to think that the young wizard hadn't really read her history—or it had been thoroughly bowdlerized by the time Proudmoore got to it. The girl continued: "You were the one who blazed the trail for women to become wizards. You're one of the unsung heroes of Azeroth. How can you turn your back—"

"Like this." Aegwynn turned and walked into the house, abandoning the bucket. She'd get it later.

Naturally, Proudmoore didn't give up, but followed her through the rickety wooden door. "Magna, you're—"

Now standing in what she jokingly called the sitting room—it was the only room in the hut, so it served as bedroom, kitchen, and dining room as well—she cried, "Stop calling me that! I'm not a mage anymore, I'm not a hero at all, and I don't want you in my house. You say that I blazed the trail for women to become mages—if anything, I'm the best reason why women should never become mages."

"You're wrong," Proudmoore said. "It's because of you—"

Putting her hands to her ears, Aegwynn said, "For the love of all that is holy in this world, will you please stop that?"

Quietly, Proudmoore said, "I'm not saying anything you shouldn't already be aware of. If not for your work, the demons would have come much sooner, and we—"

"And what difference did that make, exactly?" Aegwynn sneered at the girl. "The demons still came, and Lordaeron was still destroyed, the Lich King still reigns, and Sargeras still won."

Proudmoore winced at the mention of the Lich King for some reason, but Aegwynn didn't really care enough to inquire why. Then the girl said, "You can deny your accomplishments all you wish, but it changes nothing. You were an inspiration to all—" She smiled. "—to all the little girls who wanted to grow up to become mages. At the citadel, my favorite story was always the one about how you were chosen to be the first female Guardian by Scavell, who was the first mage to see the value of a female apprentice, and how the Guardians of Tirisfal applauded the choice and—"

Aegwynn couldn't help it. She laughed. She laughed long and she laughed hard. In fact, she was having trouble breathing, she was laughing so hard. She started coughing, but managed to get it under control after a moment. Her body was finally, after a millennium, starting to age and break down, but she still had some vitality left, and she wouldn't be rendered helpless by a fit of laughter.

It was, however, the best laugh she'd had in centuries.

Proudmoore looked like someone had fed her a lemon, her face was so sour. "I fail to see what's so amusing."

"Of course not." Aegwynn chuckled, and took a few deep breaths. "If you believe that garbage, you wouldn't." A final breath, which turned into a sigh. "Since you insist on invading my privacy, Lady Jaina Proudmoore of the oh—so—noble city of Theramore, then have a seat." She indicated the straw chair that she had spent the third year of her exile in this place putting together, but then refused to ever sit in. "I will tell you the real story of how I became a Guardian of Tirisfal, and why I am the last person you should consider to be any kind of hero…"

Eight hundred and forty—seven years ago…

For the first time in years, the Tirisfal Glades frightened Aegwynn. The forests that lay just north of the capital of Lordaeron had always been a place of beauty and of quiet, away from the hustle and the bustle. Her mother had first taken her here on a camping trip when she was a girl. Little Aegwynn had found it to be frightening and fascinating all at the same time. She had been surprised at the animals ranging freely, stunned by the incredible colors of the vegetation, and amazed at how many stars she could see in the night sky away from the torchlight and lanterns of the city.

Over time, the fear fell away, replaced by joy and wonder and, at times, relief.

Until today. Today the fear was back in full force.

She had been apprentice to the wizard Scavell since before puberty, working alongside four others—all boys, of course. Aegwynn had always wanted to be a mage but had been told repeatedly by her parents that she would grow up to become someone's wife, and that was all there was to it, and her dallying about with herbs and such was fine for now, but soon she'd need to learn more important skills, like sewing and cooking…