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A breath.
And the next.
What do you do when your world begins to crumble around you?
For her, she closes her eyes.
She lets herself feel the gentle rise of her own chest, her lungs expanding, diaphragm contracting, with each intake of breath.
She listens to the soft puffs of air that slip through each exhale, listens as her breath mingles with that of others, listens as its return brings along a certain bitterness that hadn't been there before.
"Breathe in 21% oxygen, 79% nitrogen, 0.04% carbon dioxide." Her mind recites.
"Breathe out 16% oxygen, 79% nitrogen, 4% carbon dioxide."
She allows herself to feel the world moving around her, time moving faster than she can even comprehend.
A gust of wind brushes past her, it's bitting cold nipping her nose and slapping her cheek, tiny icicles catching themselves in her hair.
But she doesn't open her eyes.
A breath. Then the next.
She imagines someone next to her; a hand clinging to her own like a lifeline, a shadow of a person shielding her from the horrors of the world, their soft voice giving her more comfort than should be possible.
They were supposed to be a team, standing side-by side, fighting for each other. It was them against the world.
Until it wasn't.
She chokes at the thought, her body jerking as she gasps for breath, her tiny fingers scrambling for purchase on the thin railing, lest she fall to her own demise.
Her body drops unceremoniously to the floor as her airways finally open, allowing the chilly wind to fill her lungs.
She takes in a deep breath, holds it for a minute till it's begging to be released, then exhales.
"In a sealed room, you can survive on your own oxygen for days. It is the high concentration of carbon dioxide that will kill you first."
The lesson echoes in her head, memories of a woman at a whiteboard highlighting points she should be taking note of.
When she doesn't, the woman uses other methods to get her lesson across.
She places her in a room, completely sealed. There's no vent in sight. It's bare save for an ACM - Air Composition Monitor.
"Watch the monitor." The woman says as she locks the door, her voice barely audible through the padded walls. "Note how you feel with each drop in O2 and rise of CO2."
She could only watch as the woman stepped away, leaving her at the mercy of four white walls and the monitor. She couldn't scream, knowing from years of experience that the inner walls were soundproof.
Taking her first breath, she watches as the device beeps with the first change.
21% Oxygen.
0.0401% Carbon dioxide.
"Don't panic." She mutters to herself. "Panicking will decrease the depth of each breath, meaning you'll need more oxygen. A higher oxygen intake equals more carbon dioxide being released."
"Which means we'll run out of air faster."
She takes another breath.
"Everything will be ok." She whispers. "This is good for us. This is always good for us. Mama always knows best."
She gasps at the thought, the memory having flashed by faster than she had thought, but she still refuses to open her eyes.
She breathes in.
A sharp exhale startles her out of her stupor, and she finds herself staring into a pair of deep blue eyes gazing worriedly into her own.
"Are you sure you're ready for the journey?" A voice asks.
She's not sure where they're headed, or if she's ready, but she nods nonetheless.
He helps her up, one hand tightly gripping hers while the other hovers over her back. Even when she is upright, he doesn't let go.
"There's no turning back once we leave." He reminds her.
She's not sure where they are, or why they're leaving, but instinct tells her to say nothing and nod.
They trudge through the snow, the cold slush slipping into her boots ever so often, and she wishes she had those fur-trimmed boots rather than her wellies.
"They'll have to do for now." He tells her, almost as if he were reading her mind. "Mama said we've got a fair distance to cover and I'm sure we'll find you a better pair of shoes along the way."
She doesn't speak, merely squeezes his hand in acknowledgement, and they move onward.
It is just as the sun is setting that they find a town, this one slightly better off than their own.
They rummage through the bins in search for a semi-worn pair of shoes and find them in no time.
Their biggest problem, however, is that her boots are frozen to her feet.
He tells her to hold her breath as he tugs them off. And she does.
Breathe in.
She shivers, her gloved fingers racing down the length of her thighs and over her knees towards her foot. With a sigh, she finds the expensive yet seasonally inappropriate footwear that currently adorned her frostbitten feet.
It was all but a memory.
She runs her hand up and down her arm, brushing across her shoulders, interlocking her fingers before letting go. The soft ministrations help her to feel more than she's felt in a long time, to feel a comfort that isn't there.
Removing the glove, she caresses her own face, imagining her hands to be that of another.
He holds her like a wilting flower, too precious to let go, but too far gone to hold onto.
His hands trace her face - fingers running over the contours of her cheek, her nose, delicately hovering over snow-dusted eyelashes - before grasping onto the back of her head.
She barely reaches his shoulder, her face pressed tightly to his chest as he places the parting kiss to her forehead.
"Be brave, little one." He whispers. "Do what mama has always told you. Mama knows best."
And he was gone.
The next time she saw him was in battle, leading an army against her.
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I like how much detail you put into the character doing something as simple as breathing. '"Breathe in 21% oxygen, 79% nitrogen, 0.04% carbon dioxide." Her mind recites.' is a cool line that kept me intrigued in the story. I also like how you formatted this - it was easy to read all the way through.
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