Amara lacks the same resistance that the two men have -- her eyes are pulled often to the carnage, much as she tries to resist it, and for a moment, she thinks that she's somehow managed to mishear something very important because of this.  The bog-dwellers hate men; everyone knows this.  She's always imagined they would sooner die than even pretend to follow the orders of a human.  Her eyes widen, trying, and failing, to imagine circumstances that might force them to work together, however reluctantly.<br/><br/>The elder is still studying her -- not challengingly, his face almost studiously neutral in expression -- but there is a hint of confusion that even his many years of practice at seeming calm in the worst of circumstances can't quite hide.  But now he turns back to Marius, acknowledging the gravity of his question.  "There's a girl missing," he says simply, those few words opening up a well of loss.  "Dragged off in the fighting.  I sent those men who were least wounded to track them -- easy to follow, hard to catch.  They're quick when they need to be."<br/><br/>Now he turns back to Amara, realization in his eyes.  "Her name is Anissa.  Your age -- you look like her."<br/><br/>Amara blushes, feeling some obscure tug of guilt.  "I-- I've never heard of them taking people before," she says, trying to cover her own confusion, glancing helplessly at Marius.  "None of this is like them at all."