On a whim he pulled the witch torch from his satchel and, ever so slightly, nudged it towards the flames with a broken table leg. When the torch lit he rolled it away from the fire before throwing the leg into the middle of it. He grabbed and held the magical flame aloft in his left hand, so immensely grateful that whatever the torch actually was, it did not light him up like so much tissue paper dipped in gasoline. He willed it to point them in the direction of the others.