They sprinted with all their might along the strange coastline, rough and riddled with ice shards and gnarled tree roots, their stamina rapidly depleting.
In the time it took to smoke a single pipe, with the suffocating roars of the beast tide behind them almost brushing their backs, and the nauseatingly hot breath nearly touching them, a massive shadow emerged vaguely in the dense gray-white mist ahead.
"We've made it! It's in the mist!" Fatty Lin shouted hoarsely, filled with the wild joy of finding a way out of a dead end.
They plunged headfirst into the thick mist.
The mist was cold and sticky, carrying a strange mix of musty dust and iron rust scent, reducing visibility to less than ten steps.
But the moment they charged into the mist, the deafening, nearly eardrum-shattering roar of the beasts behind them strangely diminished!
It didn't disappear, but seemed to be isolated and weakened by the dense fog, becoming dull and distant.
