He always ran. He ran so far and so fast, never stopping, never looking back, Because he couldn't. His hands, no, not just his hands, his entire body, covered in the blood of those he had killed. Those who he had failed to save, those who had died for him, the ones whose life HE himself had ended. He was so tainted. Koschei didn't realise, didn't understand, but he had to forgive him. He had to forgive him, because if he didn't then how could he forgive himself.