In a second, you can wave goodbye to your family, who are sitting around the fireplace in the small stone cabin.
In a second, you can tie your scarf a little tighter to keep it's comforting warmth closer to you before you trek out into the snow.
In a second, you can feel the adrenaline pulse through your body as you start your long journey to town, miles away. You can accept the intense alacrity you have for your adventure.
In a second, you can use your acumen to determine what the quickest route through the fields and forests is.
In a second, you can trip on a brittle bush, long dead from the winter's cold. Your boot can slip into the deep snow, and you feel the cold seep through to your foot.
In a second, you can sprint through the wide snowy field, relishing the feel of the crisp wind blowing your hair askew.
In a second, you can hear the sound of the river lazily making its way through the field. You can feel your papery throat desiring the fresh water.
In a second, you can step onto the ice-covered river, after determining that it should be thick enough. You can walk to the center of the river where there is a foot wide break in the ice running along the length of the river.
In a second, you can quickly dip cupped hands into the water and bring them to your lips, savoring the clear water. You can feel the cool water hit your lips and hydrate your throat, as you taste the sweetness of the minerals it contains from running through the river so long.
In a second, you can look down in horror as you see a jagged crack in the ice forming beneath you, as if lightning imprinted itself into the surface.
In a second, you can fall deep into the river, feeling the choking sensation of freezing water entering your lungs. You can see midnight blue shadows surrounding you, with light streaming in from the gap in the ice: a beacon of hope.
In a second, you can frantically unbutton your heavy coat, which is weighing you down. You can feel your limbs go numb from the painfully cold water.
In a second, you can try to swim your way to the surface, determined to live. You can move your frozen joints as much as possible, trying to get up twenty feet to the surface.
In a second, you can realize you're too late.
