The girl’s moccasins left barely a trace on the snow as she sprinted past, light as the wind. Rhythmic crunches came from all around her as heavy boots stamped their prints on the blank canvas. She listened to the different sounds that the snow produced in this forest of white and green. Some crisp. Some airy. Others were low and deep, rich in timbre. Some crunched like pastries fresh from the oven. Others yet made hardly a sound. The snow beneath her feet...squeaked.
'Squeak? This must have just fallen.'
She thought of the new sound and texture as she ran.
Squeak. Squeak.
She felt her gums getting itchy at the sensation. Was it irritating or satisfying?
Squeak. Squeak.
‘Just what made that noise?’ the girl pondered. She imagined her foot crashing down, squishing the air out of the snow, squeezing each snowflake together until they couldn’t take it any more, and…squeak!
> ‘Mind your own business, pal,’ one of the snowflakes would squeak to another.
>
> ‘It’s not my fault!’ squeaked the snowflake in response.
>
> ‘Well, could you give me a bit of space, then?’ squeaked the snowflake.
>
> ‘I’m afraid not...maybe we’ll just have to live with it. Want to be friends?’ squeaked the snowflake squeakily.
>
> ‘Y’know, I think that might just be al--’
Thwiip. The tree to the right of the girl suddenly gained a new branch. Long, thin, and quivering, with three feathers at its tip. She smiled to herself at the unusual sight and then shook her head.
Focus.
Master always said she got distracted too easily.
‘You must live in the present moment, fully absorbed in what needs to be done in the Now.’
She dashed ahead and hid her body in front of the nearest tree. Thwiip. The arrow lodged itself into the trunk with a dull thud. The tree shook slightly. A dusting of snow fell from its pines and drifted lazily down towards her. They gathered atop her head and shoulders like a veil.
> She heard celebratory bells. The entire city paused in that moment to honour her coronation. Even the sun emerged in humble greeting as the thin gauze of royal veil settled across her back. Through the stained glass windows, the hall was blessed with a warm, golden glow. She stood up and gently smiled as she addressed her subjects, raising her right hand covered with the blood of her enem-- what? Oh.
The girl heard a thump as a body collapsed in front of the tree. Warm droplets fell from her right hand, melting small red holes in the snowy floor.
She flicked the blood off of her dagger and sheathed it.
The dying man clutched his throat and gargled. His life flowed out, spreading gently through the snow. The pure white canvas was painted with the end of his experiences, hopes, and desires.
‘I wonder if he had a family.’
Focus.
She ran.
‘Well, that’s one less pursuer,’ the girl encouraged herself. She glanced back to see how many more remained on the chase. Seeing the growing encirclement of soldiers, she decided not to think about it. ‘Like Master said…it’s best to focus on the present.’
The girl fled deeper and deeper into the woods in search of an escape.
The air grew damp. Her face felt cold. The sound of rushing water filled her ears. She knew that her destination was close.
Thwiip.
The girl ducked out of the way in a hurry and saw an arrow disappear into the snow in front of her. ‘Would that arrow ever be retrieved?’ she mused. ‘Maybe somebody would find it in the spring when the snow thawed and life blossomed once more. Maybe a shrew would take it home.’
> ‘Honey, look what I found,’ the shrew would say.
>
> ‘Dear, that’s a stick,’ she would reply.
>
> ‘No, honey, it’s not just any stick. Look! It has feathers! Perhaps Mr. Tree has finally decided to take the next step with Mrs. Bird.’
>
> ‘Dear, that’s not how things work.’
>
> ‘Maybe I should bring this stick back...it’s their first child, after all.’
>
> ‘...’
>
> ‘Honey, are you listening?’
>
> ‘Yes, dear.’
>
> ‘I said: maybe I should bring this stick back...it’s their first child, after all.’
>
> ‘Yes, dear. You should go do that. I’m sure Mr. Tree would appreciate it.’
>
> ‘Okay, I’ll be back so--’
Thwiip.
She rolled down the snowbank, clutching her shoulder. A single red smear stood out in the landscape of pure white.
She giggled. ‘Hah! Take that, Master. You said I would never leave a mark. But look ye and despair! Tremble from my might. I, the great Young Lady, have left my mark upon nature itself.’
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She looked at her painting then stood up and continued running.
‘It would have been nice if he were here to admire it.’
Splash.
Her moccasins greedily soaked up the freezing water as she ran down the creek. Water sprayed up to the sky in her wake. The rocks were painted in her tracks.
‘Master was right about one thing though...’ She tried moving her left arm but felt a sharp pain shooting from her shoulder down to her fingertips. ‘I probably should have focused.’
The sound of water grew louder. Her feet got colder. The river at the end of the path roared and threatened her to stay away.
> ‘Hi, sorry to intrude, Mr. River. Pleased to meet you.’
>
> ‘I’ll kill you.’
>
> ‘That would be most scary, but I think I’m more afraid of the people behind me doing the same.’
>
> ‘Stay away.’
>
> ‘I wonder. Should I keep my clothes on or off? If I jump in with these furs, they’ll get heavy and I might drown.’
>
> ‘Are you listening?’
>
> ‘Yes, yes. Listening. You’re very loud. But if I take my clothes off, I’ll probably freeze to death after I get out of the river.’
>
> ‘You’ll suffocate in my depths.’
>
> ‘Shh. Please! I’m trying to think.’
>
> ‘...’
>
> ‘Well, the clothes will be very cold after I get out anyways. Unless maybe I can find a cave, start a fire, and dry off? In that case it would probably be worthwhile to keep them for later.’
>
> ‘...’
>
> ‘But are there even caves in this region? Probably not.’
She took off her fur coat and moccasins – Thwiip – and jumped into the river.
‘Sorry to intrude, please take care of me.’
Splash.
The roar of water.
White.
Her vision blanked as the shocking cold froze her entire system. Time stopped flowing. She almost gasped.
No. Resist the urge.
A memory flitted through her mind.
> ‘Your fate may change at the whim of gods, but your body and your mind belong to you – and you alone.’
>
> ‘Yes, Master.’
How much time had passed? The world felt like it was in stasis – as frozen as she was. But her lungs were aching so it must have been a while.
She calmed herself and started swimming up to the surface of the river. It was heavy. She kicked off her pants. It got easier after that. The girl breached the surface and took in a lungful of precious air. It was cold. Excruciatingly, blindingly cold. But it was also a relief. It relaxed her frayed nerves. Lost in the moment of reprieve she didn’t notice the river swirling in front of her. She breathed again.
Choke.
Sputter.
Her breath was violently interrupted by a sudden intake of water. It ravaged her airways as the current dragged her under. All the mantras in the world could not have prevented her panic. She coughed. More water entered her lungs. Her panic worsened. Chest burning. Lungs in agony. Gasping for a breath that wasn’t there. She wanted to cough.
‘Focus.’
Cough. I want to cough. Get the water out. Breath. Air. I need air. I need air. I need air. If I cough I’ll get air.
‘No.’
I’m going to die. Let’s claw our way to the surface. Fight. Live. Swim. Struggle. Survive.
‘No. Wait.’
How can we wait? I’m dying. Move. Move. Move. If we don’t move now we’ll never move again. I need air. We need air. Please. Please please please please pleasepleaseplease. Air. Up. Let’s move.
‘Wait.’
…How long?
‘Wait.’
I can’t keep holding my breath. I barely got half a breath up there, and I lost the rest of it when that stupid river assaulted me. Tried to kill me. Wasn’t it supposed to be my friend?
‘Wait.’
How long?
‘Until it’s time.’
She felt herself calming down. Her lungs felt like they were going to explode. She couldn’t see anything. She was cold. Freezing. Dying. But she regained focus and she waited. Time lost all meaning. Had seconds passed or minutes? She had no way to tell. Every instinct in her body was begging her to act – to fight for survival, but she waited.
Is it time?
‘Not yet.’
The currents wrapped around her, pulling her left and right. She removed her tunic using her right hand. She felt lighter. She waited.
Is it time?
‘Almost.’
She let out a small bit of air through her nose. The act of exhaling brought her some small comfort. She traced the precious resource as it left her body, felt it tickle against her hair as it bubbled to the surface.
How strange.
She thought about her hair. How it must have been floating lazily in the water all this time. While her body screamed plaintively for even the smallest hint of a breath, her hair had been flowing along with the current.
‘Is this how it feels to be seaweed?’ She imagined herself at the bottom of the ocean, warm underwater currents pushing her to and fro, taking her to destinations unknown. She willingly flowed along.
> ‘Why hello, Mr. Crab.’
>
> ‘Oh my, a talking seaweed! How peculiar.’
>
> ‘You’re one to talk!’
>
> ‘Quite right you are, my dear.’
>
> ‘That’s not what I meant.’
>
> ‘But that’s how I interpreted it.’
>
> ...
>
> The two looked at each other for a moment.
>
> ...
>
> ‘So how did a crab like you learn to be so regal?’
>
> ‘An excellent question...but first, I think I might be running late. Do you have the –’
Time. The girl felt the current loosen its icy hold and she took advantage of its inattention to fight for freedom. She exhaled her last scrap of air and felt it flow to the surface. With the bubbles guiding her path, the girl clawed, thrashed, and struggled her way out of the river’s depths with all her might.
With one last desperate kick, her head finally breached the surface. She took a breath. Air rushed into her lungs. It was delicious. She took a few more.
Her left shoulder ached. Her limbs were numb. She was freezing and shivering. But in spite of everything, she smiled. Her thoughts moved like a drifting mass of ice, slow and fragmented.
‘Master. I. finally. understood. the. importance. of. breath. . . Are. you. proud. of. me?’
The girl removed the last of her garments. The movements were agonizing. It took an eternity. Or perhaps it was mere seconds. She couldn’t tell. It was cold.
She tilted her head back and pointed her feet downstream. Time stood still, but somehow the trees and rocks continued to move along as the girl laid in the river. It was cold.
She closed her eyes and thought about her painting. Her personal mark on this world left behind. A streak of red brilliantly dividing the snowscape into two halves. The girl smiled. It was warm.