Keep a casual eye out.

“What's her name, then?” you ask.

“Tuva. Tuva Stov, sir. She's a strong farm lass. I'm sure she may still live,” he pleads, probably trying to convince himself.

“We will keep a look out for your Tuva. We'll send her back if we find her. G'day, sir.” You don't want to give the old man too much hope, and from the looks of him, he probably can't pay. But it won't hurt to give some passing glances into the forest for the girl, along the way.

You both bid him adieu, and leave the inn to buy supplies.