@empaethies: ❝ I am coming unraveled. I am coming undone. ❞
HER HANDS ARE SHAKING, SMALL, dwarfed inside his palms; he closes his fingers around hers, a tight and painless squeeze meant to tether her to something safe, something real.
“You’re right here. Feel this. I’m here, too,” Owen’s voice is a steady timbre between every dry, anguished gasp vibrating through her body. Stern, patient, as if he has done this more than once. “Breathe in. Count to four. Breathe out. Repeat. One, two, three...” Owen follows his own instructions, inhales, exhales, with her, until her heartbeat syncs with the steady thrum of his pulse; Claudette Morel can feel it, warm against her skin, warm like a comforting hearth.
The fear passes like a dark, confusing fog; her hands flinch away to rub the heels of her palm against her watery eyes.
“Ms. Morel,” he begins, something gentler in the shape of his words, now, “I’m with the conservation center. Your field instructor reported you missing from their research team six hours ago...”
