Crossing the River

A few hours later, we arrived at a rushing river. The roar of the water filled the air, crashing violently against the jagged rocks that jutted out sporadically along its path. The river was wide, its current swift, swirling with whirlpools that threatened to drag anything into its depths. My heart raced as I traced the turbulent waters with my eyes.

I turned to James, who leaned heavily against a tree. His face was pale, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, and a grimace of pain twisted his features. His hand clutched the makeshift bandage wrapped around his side, where blood had seeped through. The journey had taken a severe toll on him.

“James, we cannot cross this river like this,” I said, my voice trembling with concern.
“It is too dangerous.”

He shook his head, determination flashing in his eyes despite the agony that drained him.

“Isabella, this is the path we must take to reach the next cave.”
“If we do not get there by nightfall, we will not have anywhere safe to rest.”


I turned back to the river. The thought of crossing on horseback flickered through my mind, but the reality of my pregnancy made that impossible. I bit my lip, weighing our options. The river was too deep and too swift to ford on foot. The rocks protruding from the water offered a potential path, but they looked slick and unstable. One misstep could send us both tumbling into the churning depths, where survival seemed unlikely.

Glancing at the dense forest on either side of the river, I searched for anything that could help us. Perhaps a fallen tree to use as a bridge, or maybe a narrower part of the river upstream. Time was slipping away, and the thought of leaving James in his weakened state to search for a solution was unbearable.

James saw the worry etched on my face and managed a faint smile, though pain laced his features.

“We will find a way, Isabella.”
“We have to.”
“Look for something to help us cross.”

I began scanning the area more carefully for anything we could use to construct a makeshift bridge or raft. Though weakened, James pushed himself away from the tree, joining me in the search with unwavering determination.



We stood at the riverbank, our breaths coming in sharp, shallow gasps. After scouring the area for a way to cross safely, we came up empty-handed. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the landscape. I turned to James. His condition was worsening; his steps were slower, and his breathing more labored. We had no choice. We needed to cross now or risk being stranded on the wrong side of the river as nightfall approached.

“We will do this together,” I said, gripping his arm in a bid to lend him my strength.

He nodded; jaw clenched against the pain.

“We have to be careful,” he warned, narrowing his eyes as he focused on the rocks jutting out from the water.
“Step where I step, and do not look down.”

I took a deep breath, gathering my courage. The roar of the river was deafening, the water churning violently below. The cold spray hit my face as we approached the edge, the current threatening to pull us in before we even began.

James went first, his movements slow and deliberate. He tested each rock before committing his weight, his grip tightening on my hand. The rocks were slick with moss, and several times he nearly lost his footing, regaining balance at the last moment. I followed closely behind, heart pounding in my chest. Each step felt like a leap of faith as I navigated the treacherous path.

We reached the halfway point. The current intensified, swirling around the rocks and spraying our legs, making it harder to maintain our footing. The cold bit into my skin, and I felt the strength of the current tugging at my boots, as if the river itself were trying to drag me down.

James stumbled. His foot slipped on an unstable rock, and he gasped, reaching out for a nearby boulder to steady himself. Panic surged in my chest as I stretched out my hand to grasp his, our fingers clutching desperately at each other.

“James!”

I cried; my voice thick with fear.

“I am okay,” he panted, his face contorted in pain.

Exhaustion clouded his eyes, and I could see the toll the river was taking on him. He was using the last of his strength to keep us both upright. We continued inching our way across the river, every step feeling like a battle against an unyielding adversary. The rocks grew more uneven, some barely submerged beneath the water, others towering above it, forcing us to climb and leap from one to the next.

My muscles burned with effort; my legs trembled from the strain. My boots slipped on the wet rocks more than once, and each time, the cold grip of fear tightened around my heart. The river was alive, wild, and untamed, and it wanted to claim us.

We neared the far side of the river. The current surged with ferocity, swirling violently around us. James struggled to maintain his balance; his strength waned with each passing moment. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his face ashen. I could see the pain etched into every line of his features, the wound in his side bleeding through the bandages.

“We are almost there,” I urged, my voice trembling with effort as I tried to sound reassuring.

Doubt flickered in James’s eyes; he was on the verge of collapse. The final stretch of the river was the most treacherous, with rocks spaced further apart, the gaps yawning like the jaws of a beast eager to swallow us whole. The water rose to our knees, threatening to sweep us off our feet.

James’s foot slipped again, and this time he could not catch himself. He fell forward, crashing into the water with a splash that echoed above the river’s roar. I screamed, my heart stopping as I watched him disappear beneath the surface.

“James!”

I cried, my voice raw with terror. I did not think; I just acted, plunging into the river after him. The cold water hit me like a wall, the force of the current nearly knocking me off my feet. I fought against it, arms flailing as I searched for James, grasping at the water in desperation.



Finally, my hand brushed against something solid—James’s arm. I seized him, pulling with every ounce of strength I had left, my muscles screaming in protest. He felt heavy, the weight of his soaked clothes dragging us both down, but I refused to let go.

With a strength I did not know I possessed, I hauled him up. My feet slipped and slid on the rocks beneath us, but I did not care. James coughed and sputtered, water streaming from his mouth as he gasped for air, his eyes wide with terror.

“Hold on, James,” I urged, my voice shaking as I clung to him.
“Just a little further.”

We struggled toward the riverbank. Our bodies are battered by the relentless current. Each step was a battle, but inch by inch, we edged closer to safety. The rocks beneath us grew less treacherous, and the water shallower, until finally, we reached the shore.

I collapsed onto the riverbank, my body trembling with exhaustion. Gasping for breath, I felt the adrenaline fade, leaving only fatigue in its wake. Beside me, James sprawled out, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. His face was ashen, the wound in his side bleeding heavily, staining the water around us a dark crimson.


For a long moment, we lay there, the roar of the river fading into the background as we focused on the simple act of breathing. We had made it; we had crossed the river. We were not safe yet. We still had to reach the cave before nightfall, and James was in worse condition than ever. We could not afford to rest, but the toll of the crossing had been immense. Gathering my strength, I pushed myself up, my body protesting every movement. I turned to James.

“We have to keep going, James.”
“The cave is just a little further.”