All Jakob could do was to continue paddling. Trying desperatly to fight the urge to look behind. His hands were now hurting from fiercely grabbing the paddle. His arm muscles were aching, screaming for him to stop. He couldn't stop. If he stopped, everything would stop. Forever. Sweat was dropping from his temple, but he couldn't be sure to distinguish it from the water that was coming up each time the paddle exited the river.

A fiery arrow crossed near his left ear, cutting through the wind at high speed. He looked backwards. He shouldn't have. The pursuers were coming close. His chest had an increasingly heavy rhytm. It didn't look like he could outrun them. Then, it dawned on him: it was over. Jakob let the paddle go, placing it gentle in the river. He layed down on the small canoe, enjoying a moment of stillness. The sounds of the villagers were coming close. Raging, furious. Jakob would have loved to say he had never made anyone that angry before. Truth is, he had. But this may be the time he had angered the biggest amount of people at the same time. He laughed as the threaning red flames steadily conquered the dark night that lay above him.