<em>“We must make haste to rescue you.”</em>The words echo in Amara's mind, for a moment even managing to override the horrors around her.  Her first instinct is to step away, to edge closer to Marius -- to demand, in a tremulous voice, the reason for this sudden, strangely confident intrusion.  But Arden accepts her, in spite of how nonsensical her words seem, and Marius follows that lead, and Amara finds herself pulled along.  A resemblance is mere coincidence, meaning nothing, not even kinship, which would be doubtful enough.  She knows she needs no rescuing, and yet somehow, for an instant, she does; and the whole village seems to be waiting for the dread news of her fate.<br/><br/>The moment breaks, like summer heat after a storm, and she can breathe again.  Somehow, without anything quite being discussed or explained, their path is tied up with Thoris'.  Marius looks suddenly as uneasy as Amara feels, but he accepts, and so does she.  This is not their fate alone; and there is little time for arguing or doubts.  And now she wants to leave in any case, almost pained by all the eyes on her.  Somehow she's convinced that every gaze is fixed on her, everyone noting and wondering about the similarity, the meaningless similarity, no doubt exaggerated by the strain of their worry.<br/><br/>Two young men break away from their grisly, thankless tasks, drawn over to the little group -- one is a little darker in hair and skin, the other a little taller, but otherwise they might almost have been twins.  Both are bruised and bloodied, less wounded than some, pale beneath the dirt and sweat, but grim and serious, as only boys just becoming men can be.  They look over the three of them, making up their minds, their gazes settling on Amara for a long moment before Arden speaks up, quietly explaining and cautioning as the boys listen with an instinctive respect.