His upward attention is quickly retracted as he sinks into contact with the skin below the field of fur and the air current from the breathing of the mouse dwindles. He freezes in place until the breathing cycle continues, and as his shoulders relax, he exhales. A pause follows as that urge to slow down rises. Benjiro does not breath in...at least, not until the shock of the thunderous heartbeat startles him into a gasp in the next instant.
Rather than becoming fearful or more anxious, a very different kind of feeling overtakes him. A warmth so absolute in a way he has never experienced blankets him. It quiets the anxiety. His thoughts go still for a moment. Tears seep into his eyes as he stares off in the darkness with his flashlight lowered.
He’s safe. He knows how to hide. He knows how to mend.
A cool tear slipping down his cheek stirs him out of the stupor, and he sniffles softly as he rubs his eyes with his free hand. Whatever that had been, it was intense. It would be hard to describe later on when he reports to the other Numbered, but the knowledge and trained awareness left in its wake give him a lingering sense of security.
More aware of his body, he realizes now his breathing is trending unnecessarily slower. Tapping two fingers together quietly to get the rhythm of seconds into a physical sensory, he cues mentally to switch his breath in or out every three seconds. He keeps tapping until he has collected his thoughts enough to focus on the task at hand.
Surveying the way that follows the fur, he elects to travel that route with steps kept silent and tentative. He can always climb again after circling to the head from the cavern floor if he finds nothing else unusual on his travel towards the tail.
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Rather than becoming fearful or more anxious, a very different kind of feeling overtakes him. A warmth so absolute in a way he has never experienced blankets him. It quiets the anxiety. His thoughts go still for a moment. Tears seep into his eyes as he stares off in the darkness with his flashlight lowered.
He’s safe. He knows how to hide. He knows how to mend.
A cool tear slipping down his cheek stirs him out of the stupor, and he sniffles softly as he rubs his eyes with his free hand. Whatever that had been, it was intense. It would be hard to describe later on when he reports to the other Numbered, but the knowledge and trained awareness left in its wake give him a lingering sense of security.
More aware of his body, he realizes now his breathing is trending unnecessarily slower. Tapping two fingers together quietly to get the rhythm of seconds into a physical sensory, he cues mentally to switch his breath in or out every three seconds. He keeps tapping until he has collected his thoughts enough to focus on the task at hand.
Surveying the way that follows the fur, he elects to travel that route with steps kept silent and tentative. He can always climb again after circling to the head from the cavern floor if he finds nothing else unusual on his travel towards the tail.