"You can thank me if we don't die!" Anders replies, a false kind of manic cheer in the exclamation. He isn't much more graceful in climbing the sandy, shifting shore, but he's unwittingly quite a bit lighter, hand tight around hers as he bounds ahead in a few sliding strides. 

The first of those corpses has yet to recover from his direct hit, still smouldering in the shallow surf, but the light it casts only serves to illuminate more of them, when he glances back again. Even if they can make it back to the city - now an ever more dubious feat, as thickly as fog clouds the air - they won't be out of danger if that horde keeps coming.

"No chance you've got a weapon of some sort on you, is there?"