Something was wrong.

Amira had the ship read out the time - it was nearing the hour the Mandalorian and the villagers should have been returning home. But something was wrong, she felt it in every part of her body, the sudden burn of adrenaline rushing through her veins. Nearby, the Child sensed it too.

She dresses quickly, shoving her feet into her boots without unfastening them first. She considers leaving the Child within the safety of the ship, but she was already torn between its cries within her mind and whatever had happened out there. So she bundled it up as well before stumbling from the ship, barely remembering to close the rampway behind her.

With the Child in her arms they move swiftly along the path to the village she had previously mapped out in her own mind, but once they reached it she is forced to slow down. The Mandalorian is here, she knows that much, but she is not sure where, or what is wrong. She moves along the streets as quickly as she is able to without risking falling or running into something, but the amount of noise coming from the returning villagers is distracting. Her shoulders brush against several people who are hastening somewhere themselves, and no apologies are offered on either side. But eventually she is recognized.

"You came with the Mandalorian." It is not a question, "he is with N'jnaro now, you will come with me."

Amira is not overly fond of strangers guiding her but she willingly takes the woman's hand - likely one of the returning warriors, based on the gloves she wears - and allows herself to be led quickly to the source of her distress. They are moving too quickly for conversation, though Amira manages to gasp out something like a question about what has happened - but the woman either doesn't know or doesn't wish to answer.

They stop soon enough, near to where she can sense her companion more clearly. Here the woman hands her off to another older woman, who introduces herself as Mithya, the wife of N'jnaro, as she guides Amira through their home. They are apparently elders in the village and have seen to the care of the Mandalorian, but still she does not say what happened.

The scent of copper and char and bacta hits her the moment she enters the room.

"He took most of the blaster fire as our warriors were getting out, and was thrown back onto the burning equipment." N'jnaro, she thinks, explains as she moves towards where the Mandalorian is lying unconscious. "One of our men pulled him from the flames but he was very badly burned. We treated him with all of the bacta we could spare, but he would not let us remove his helmet, and now he's…"

And now he was entirely unconscious, and she could sense where he wasn't healing as he needed to. Amira wanted to reach out to him, to feel for herself what was wrong, but the Child squirmed in her grasp and it was all she could do to hold on to it.

"I will take the baby to another room," Mithya offered kindly, reaching out to take hold of the Child, paper-soft arms brushing against Amira's own.

"Wait…"

Amira isn't entirely sure what's she's doing, or whether it was really her idea at all, but she's kneeling down beside the bed in front of her and letting go. The Child moves out of her arms easily, todding over to where she knows the Mandalorian lays.

And then she feels it happening. It's like cool water flowing over her skin, counteracting the fire beneath and making her feel at ease. No, not her, but the Mandalorian, though she can feel it too. The smell of fire and blood dissipates, and she knows the burned flesh is gone with it. She can feel all of the energy in the room flowing towards the Mandalorian, until the Child suddenly falls back into her arms, seemingly drained of all its strength, but it's ok. They're both ok. Amira nearly collapses herself in relief.

She pulls the sleeping Child back against her but doesn't move from where she is still kneeling. She reaches out the hand not clasping the Child to her out to touch the Mandalorian's bare arm, where he is healed and whole in front of her. It is the first time she has touched him without all of his armor in the way and she hopes he'll forgive her need to reassure herself he's still there. Her hand slides down to feel the pulse at his inner elbow, which is steady beneath her fingertips and growing stronger.

"Praise Mithran!" is all their hosts say about what just happened, and thankfully they don't ask any questions about the Child. They simply watch over them for a little bit longer, quietly slipping away just as the Mandalorian shows signs of coming back to consciousness.

The first sign is the tensing of the arm muscles beneath her fingers. Amira tries to draw back her arm but the Mandalorian catches her wrist tightly with his hand. Then the sound of a helmet shifting, his head turning towards them.

"'Mira?" he rasps out, grip on her wrist loosening. "Where is…"

She uncurls from around the Child, knowing immediately what he is asking. She can feel him sink back into the bed when he sees them both clearly.

"You were supposed to stay on the ship."

"We thought something was wrong…" Amira tries to explain, clasping at his hand now that her wrist is free.

"Then you were supposed to hit the autopilot and get to safety. We have a plan in place."

"No, you have a plan in place." This is not how she wants any of this conversation to go, so she tries a new tack, "how are we supposed to help you?"

"You're not."

She can sense his rebukes are more exhausted than angry, but all of her previous worry has sapped her of her patience.

"If we hadn't come you would still be lying here unconscious with third degree burns - you might not have even been alive to yell at us." Amira recognizes that she's the one that's practically yelling, but she can't seem to stop herself.

"I'm not -" he deflates, "if I don't make it…"

"You're not allowed to die on us." It comes out half command, half plea.

"I can't promise that." He offers back, with less force than earlier. "But I need to know you two are safe. I need you to leave me if I can't get back to you."

"Well I can't promise that." She swiftly turns his words back on him, and is surprised when this is not met with more commands but instead with a deep sigh. Normally they were fairly well matched in stubbornness, on the rare occasions she chose to argue with him, but she could feel his exhaustion winning out even over his concern. She could feel some of the fight draining from her as well - it was too much to hold on to after the morning they had had.

"We're safe here now," her voice gentles, "why don't you rest some more. We can all go back to the ship when you wake up."

Without quite intending to, her mind reaches out to the Mandalorian's, nudging at his own exhaustion until he finally seems to see the value in her plan and allows himself to sink back into sleep. As he drifts off, she realizes he is still holding her hand.

The Mandalorian sleeps through the rest of the day, clearly needing the rest. Amira is finally lured out of the bedroom by Mithya demanding she eat something, and she allows the old woman and her husband fuss over the sleeping Child as they share the kitchen. Their own grandchildren, twin girls, apparently lived in the next village over and were nearly grown already. Amira well understood their urge to hold onto the Child for a while.

By the time she returns to the Mandalorian, she can already hear the sounds of celebration trickling in from the streets outside. Now that all the returning warriors seem to have recovered (N'jnaro mentioned there were no losses from their own village at least, though several had been injured), everyone seems to be outside enjoying their victory. Or perhaps it was merely another evening of the bonfire festival. The spicy smell of burning unghar wood drifts through the rooms window, along with the smell of rich foods, just as N'gantu had described. She would have to ask N'jnaro and Mithya what was going on.

But by the time their hosts returned to the room, the sounds from outside had changed, and an unfamiliar presence had seeped into the surroundings. It was N'jnaro who spoke first.

"The thieves have come to the village, they're demanding the Tridedlanite and they're threatening our people to get it."

"They're already trying to set fire to Mithran's temple" Mithya added with undisguised contempt, "the animals…"

"We should get you two and your Mandalorian out of the village, he has done as he promised for us and this is not your fight," her husband suggests, more calmly.

"How many are there?" Amira asks, torn between accepting the offered escape and knowing they should offer help if they can.

"Nearly 20, and our own weapons are still depleted." N'jnaro explains, indicating that the village will not be able to mount much of a resistance with or without the Mandalorian. She can hear Mithya fervently praying behind him. "They are still clustered near the temple at the center of the village, we can maybe get by them undetected if we leave now..."

Amira's mind searches outwards, past N'jnaro's concerns and Mithya's prayers, feeling the villagers' fear and its source - the rage and greed of the men so near to them it physically hurt just to touch their minds. Though close as they were, they might still be able to get away. But beneath the rage and the fear outside she hears a low hum coming from the stones of the houses that surrounded them, a sound that keeps her from retreating back to her own mind. Sometimes she could sense when a place had been touched by many beings, but this was different - it felt as though she was being called by the sound. Past the thieves' minds to something just beyond them.

It was unlike the houses, though it too felt like old stone, only even more ancient. It was buried beneath many heavy layers of time, but still it sung out to her. She found herself reaching out to it, without fully understanding why, but it felt like it was what was needed. Her mind seemed to grasp at it, and she tries to pull it free, like pulling a person from sinking sands.

Distantly, she could hear N'jnaro calling to her, mixed together with his wife's prayers. It only seems to drive her on further. It was heavy work, and her mind was unused to reaching out to another's in this way - though it was not another mind she sought. There was no consciousness there, only an ancient echo. But still the humming grew louder, and she forgot herself and all of their plans to escape in the sound, her entire being focused entirely on pulling the source closer to her.

Only her mind was not strong enough - no sooner had she pulled it free than she felt her own mind sinking back into the sand. Her last thought before she slipped out of consciousness was that she hoped she had done the right thing...