Daud’s kept in touch with the rest of the group from a distance, notifying through simple courier message — mostly text, though voice when he judged it safe enough as well — of the movements Mercy observed from her post in the sky. Luckily, the Defenders were too occupied with other matters to notice an osprey that seemed to swoop a bit too frequently around their camp.

The tiefling has primarily kept his own counsel, despite his own part in arranging this to happen. Those assembled will know his name after introducing himself earlier, though at the time he’d also been wearing a scarf loosely wrapped around his head, horns further shrouded with a hood. He’s pulled both back now, and he’s examining the wolf quietly. Mercy perches in a corner, beak idly worrying a hunk of dried meat.

“He’s been starved,” he comments, neutrally. “He’ll have to be fed carefully, if he wakes up. They did a lot of work to guard something they were killing slowly.” Which makes him wonder why they didn’t just do that in the first place.