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I had followed several trails, made by light, bared feet, but none had been hers. - (Smugglers of Gor, Chapter 47, Sentence #9)

I had anticipated difficulty in picking up the foolish slave's trail, which might have begun anywhere, but, eventually, from stirred leaves, a dislodged stone, a broken twig, a bent branch, such things, I had expected to be able to do so. As trackers went, I was not inept, and I had had training in such matters, common for those of my caste. As yet, however, I had failed. I had followed several trails, made by light, bared feet, but none had been hers. One would follow a trail, and then, to my frustration, it would return to camp. Donna, the slave of Genserich, and the camp slaves, Tula, Mila, and even she in whom I was interested, had left trails, in gathering wood, berries, and such, which, followed, would merely return to the camp. I had not located a single trail, which clearly left the camp, and had not returned. - (Smugglers of Gor)