He didn't know how much longer he could keep running. His lungs felt like collapsing. His legs were numb. His lips were parched. He couldn't even hear his footsteps and the familiar clinking of his metal armor anymore. All he could hear was the loud thudding of his heart like heavy battle drums beating the rhythm of war. Spotting the clan of his friend Heber, he saw the tent of Jael, wife of Heber the Kenite. He blinked and gave the tent another good stare to affirm this comforting sight. With a deep breath and a long audible exhale, he made a desperate run for the tent.
From far away, Jael could see Sisera running toward her like a half-dead ant that had been tortured and partially de-legged by a sadistic little boy. Sweaty, sun-scorched, and sandy. There was dirt that had collected on the dried blood on Sisera's rough skin and dusty armor. "It's Sisera..." she lipped, as her mind flooded with countless reasons the adversary might be running toward her and what course of action she could possibly take. She grabbed and lifted the left side of her waist belt so her garment wouldn't touch the ground and went outside to meet him.
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