<em>Five.</em>Amara counts them without thinking, her bow up and aimed even as she takes stock of them.  Like Marius, she ignores the sight, firing on instinct, what feels right, and her arrow flies true just as the others' do.<em>Four.  Three.</em>Thorius' target falls, then Marius', the arrows seeming to spring from the misshapen bodies rather than to plunge into them from afar.  Then there are only two, as Amara's arrow finds the neck of one of them.  It flies almost straight through the flesh, driven by the power of the bow, and with a strangled snarl the creature fell to its knees, then to the side.<br/><br/>From the corner of one clear blue eye, she sees Marius scanning for others, leaves him to watch their backs.  She's safe enough with him on the alert, and she can turn all her attention to the arrows, to the bow.  A second arrow is at the ready before she can think twice; she aims in a heartbeat and lets fly at another target.  It hits further down this time, into what would have been the collarbone of a human, and blood bubbles free, thick and dark.  This one does not fall instantly; it hefts its axe as though intending to throw it, or perhaps to charge the girl, even as an arrow from one of their guides also strikes home, lodging between two ribs on its side.  But it will not fall lightly.  In its way, it is as determined as any of them.<br/><br/>She draws another arrow, still unthinking, knowing only that they cannot rest yet.  Something about this, the way the tension hits her, makes her feel as though she's only watching herself, uncertain even as her hands move with a cool, steady precision that amazes her.  Not once during those moments does she think about what she's shooting at, or even why -- for once she is only motion, almost as much the trained, calm killer as Marius, all hesitation lost.  She's almost glad of it -- if she can do this, she can face the trials ahead more easily -- but once it ends, she knows that it will also frighten her.