Flickers

panic on the field of battle

I stood drowning in panic, swallowing air into my lungs but still suffocating.
The world spun as the attack took hold.
The hilt of my sword Dug into my flesh, my hands were too small.
The enemy dropped his spear and approached me slowly, gripping my shoulders firmly as I felt myself sink into the earth. "Breathe" he whispered, removing his cloak and wrapping it around me. He pulled his mask off and held my head. "It'll be alright"

Beneath his cracked, blackened mask, a deep swath was carved into his face, deepsetting a pair of startlingly gentle eyes. He placed his hand on my chest and I felt the burning grip on my lungs loosen, invisible hands of iron clamped around my throat slowly letting go