He hums, a mild sound only slightly strained by the effort of holding the torch and picking his way along the stony natural path leading them down, down, down into the darkness. It's hardly moments before the wan light of the shaft they'd fallen in falls away entirely and their place in the world narrows completely to the flame.

"As to the first," he says, voice low. "It's plenty. For the second," --a shrug-- "I barely know who you are now." She is a name and a description, a few details like the color and size of her horse and in which direction she might be travelling. She is important to the person who wants her brought back (alive, preferably) and he gathers she may be important elsewhere to other people as well, but how or for why had hardly factored into the business of finding and following her.

"Does it matter?"

They're still here at the bottom of a hole, making their way steadily downward.