He looked awful.

Like he had lost about fifteen pounds the hard way.

Lined face, dark with unshaven stubble that was obviously hacked off with whatever knife he had in his gear.

Clothes grimy and smelling of old smoke, cooked fish and sleeping on the ground, splattered with dried blood .

The wound in his leg, tied with makeshift bandages, painful and fierce.

Barefoot and dirty fingernailed.

Hair in sore need of shampoo, the grey almost changed to a dusty grey brown, matted with alien leaves and dirt.

Tired bloodshot eyes searching the rescuers.

Locking with mine, riveting, brown and expressive.

Filling with sudden tears to match my own.

Crooked grin lighting his face with sudden sunbeams.

He never looked more beautiful.