If someone stood on the shore of Lake of Termination, they could see a wooden raft drifting from afar. The raft was a pitiful sight, the thick logs laid across it, one-fourth having snapped in two, luckily held together by metal chains threaded through their centers, preventing them from falling off. The passengers on the raft were equally disheveled, everyone drenched, their clothes clinging tightly to their bodies. Pannis, as the only male passenger, felt his arms had swollen—not from fatigue, but from being pinched. Now that the girls had thrown their cloaks over their wet clothes, Pannis's arms were finally spared.