(via hannahelisabeth)
He ran for the far shore knowing full well the cost of failure. Knowing that if he so much as stumbled and what pursued them overcame him they would drag what he carried, the innocent, helpless and abandoned life now clinging to him in wide eyed terror, back into their pit where it would suffer a fate so horrific in its brutality that his failure would mean the death of not just his body but of his very soul.
The cost of failure was his own self damnation and the only way out now was to run.
And so he ran, leaping across the barriers his feat churning through the sand, his heart feeling as if it would explode into a million pieces of blood infused shrapnel, willing himself to reach the boatman.
