Cyrus walked through the various tents diligently inspecting every last one of them. He tried to focus on her presence and what he remembered she smelled like but there were too many people and too many smells for him to narrow in on her. He was starting to lose hope and feared the worst that she was never going to be rescued or he was too late and she had already perished.
He didn't know what he would do with himself if he failed her twice. Just when he was giving up hope, he smelt something familiar. A special scent of blood filled his nose causing him to spin around and look at the tent he passed a moment ago. There was a woman tending to her wounds with her head down.
"Jahi?" He called her name and felt his heart skip a beat when her head looked up. Her usual blond hair was covered with what he presumed to be mud making it look brown. Her body had become smaller no doubt because slaves were not fed right.
