Vigilante PAW

Chapter Thirty-One: Marshall's Inferno

As Marshall sprayed the water from the improvised water cannon, he took quick notice of how much lighter the pack was. Not only that, but the stream the water was coming out from had gotten thinner. While he had handled a decent amount of the water, he couldn't afford to use any more to spray on his scarf in order to use it as an air filter from the smoke. He would have to carry on with the water he did have to tend to the fire and keep it from spreading any more than it already had. He couldn't ignore one simple fact, though

He was running out of water, and fast.

Marshall took a deep breath in, now holding his breath. As the fire raged not only just in front of him, but in every direction he looked, he realized he needed to get out of the center if he wanted to be able to breathe properly. He looked around. Which way had he come from again? He rubbed his eyes, trying to be able to see better. He didn't have his mask or his visor like he did back when he was on the PAW Patrol.

He quickly shook his head. Now was not the time to think about what he didn't have. He was running out of water, and if he didn't stand up to leave soon, his lungs would cry out for air and force him to take a breath in. Inhaling smoke was the last thing he needed, especially in the forest. He was lucky that he decided to practice holding his breath in case he ever had to handle running through smoky areas.

"Smoke travels upwards, so once I run out of air, I'll have to dive for the ground..." He began walking, trying to remain calm, "...But in order to not run out of air, my heartbeat needs to stay low. I can't panic. But that also means I can't run either."

With a steadied walking pace, the Dalmatian tried to figure out which direction he came from. While he did this, he made sure to use his remaining water to spray any fire that seemed to be spreading near him. He managed all of this while holding his breath.

His eyes widened. Why did he have to think about it? The best way to not want air is to not think about it! Marshall's cheeks suddenly bulged, signaling that his body was ready to let out all of the carbon dioxide that he was keeping from coming out of his system.

The Dalmatian's head began to dart around, not realizing how quickly he was losing his cool. He had completely forgotten about keeping himself calm. All he could think about was how much he wanted to breathe. He looked for a familiar sight, trying to figure out which direction he had come from to get to where he was. But, thanks to his brain lacking a bit of oxygen he was finding it hard to think about anything other than the sensation of his lungs beginning to tighten.

He decided to use a strategy he picked up while he still was a firefighter, and exhaled for just a moment before tightening his lips once more. That way, he could alleviate some of the squeezing pressure on his lungs. Marshall calmed his mind once more, picking a direction and starting to walk. Straining to hold his breath, the Dalmatian picked up his pace.

No matter where he looked, a fiery red hue seemed to be filling that area. He wasn't sure how, but he was at the center of the flames. The trees that once had lush leaves and fauna living within it were nothing but crisped, blackened sticks that raised high above his head. Branches from the burning trees fell from above, the wind in the air doing nothing to extinguish the flames on them.

The sounds of wolves howling, animals screeching in the distance as they escaped, as well as the ever-growing crackling noise of the trees, leaves, bushes, and grass combusting to create near constant horrific harmony that filled the air and his ears. The sound was so loud that he couldn't think. He couldn't even hear his own groans in his attempts to keep holding his breath.

His sight grew hazy. Marshall's head began to pound. His body wouldn't be able to take the lack of oxygen for much longer. He wasn't a full grown human. He wasn't even a full grown dog. He was a pup. A pup whose lungs weren't made for holding his breath as long as he was. But no matter what, he would not let himself take a breath as long as he was still surrounded by smoke. No matter what direction he was moving in, he had to leave the fire eventually. It wasn't that big. It was only strong.