They arrived an hour or so later and once they got out of the speeder Thrace and Ciylo went in opposite directions to check the line. Ciylo was perfectly fine with it. He didn't want to spend any more time with the smug fucker anyways. He trotted to the west, into the fading sun. After about two miles he was lost in his own thoughts, thinking long and hard about the pull in his chest and the hundreds of questions about what was going on with Rajnos when he heard a small voice in his head. He slowed to a stop and steadying his breathing, turned towards the right searching the other side of the border as he stood there. He closed his eyes and stilled himself, listening. It was if he were listening to a dream, and the woman was desperate. Keeping his eyes closed, he walked towards the whimpering he heard in his mind and almost blundered right into her laying on the ground beneath a tree. Sighing before even opening his eyes, he shook his head at his stupidity and then opened them and looked down at her. She was big framed, but thin, too thin. Tortured thin. Her hair was ashen black, like it had been burned in a fire and far too long, like it hadn't been cut in awhile. She was shivering, though it was well over 100 degrees yet, even as the sun was setting. Ciylo allowed himself to pity her for a moment, and then crouched down, grabbing her shoulder and shook her. She actually woke up quietly and Ciylo realized her soul was broken and then he truly did pity her.
Agassiz's eyes fluttered open and before her crouched the Warlord himself, though he was much bigger than she remembered and his mask was different. But maybe after everything that had happened he had changed for good reason. Right now all she cared about was that she was saved and maybe, just maybe she could see Jarron again and soon. She sat up slowly, brushing the sand off the arm she had been laying on and the Warlord cocked his head in question at her.
"Don't act like you don't know me," She spat at him. He was visibly taken aback and cocked his head again in the other direction.
"I do not," he said quietly. "I am Cimmerian Moff Ciylo. Who are you?," he asked. Agassiz just stared at him for a moment and then broke into quiet sobs. Ciylo took off his helmet and pushed his hair back with a gloved hand. Sighing, he said, "You are Agassiz aren't you?"