That torch happens to be Daud's, but as the shadow descends, another swoops to intercept it, not hard enough to knock it to the ground, but enough to veer it off course. The man curses, reassesses the situation, then comes to a swift decision.

"Then give it to me and take the torch," he snaps, harshly. "I can cover more ground." He sheathes his sword with a hard thunk and is already reaching out, offering her the torch in exchange for the wolf in her arms.

The bird is still circling overhead, somewhere, and calls out an urgent warning -- she isn't alone up there, and without the benefit of torches, well, the shadow's begun to go after her in earnest.