New fic… yeah, I know. I really need to stray on task, but this idea hit me after reading a whole bunch of fantasy fics and I couldn't resist! I know, I'm terrible, I'm sorry!

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, don't own TMNT. Never have, and likely never will =/

It was dark. It was wet. It was cold. It was suffocating.

And he was drowning.

He tried to scream, tried to yell, tried to cal for help! But whenever he tried, freezing, salty water forced its way down his throat and he gagged some more. It entered his lungs, burning them, filling them, stealing his breath away, making him choke.

A wave pounded over his head, forcing the child down. Tears would have welled up if he wasn't now seven feet under the surface. A fierce current forced its way into his nose as he was tossed around under the waves. His ears popped and pressure pounded beneath his skull. As a riptide grabbed him and began to drag him out and up, he caught sight of the surface. Gray light, as cold and unwelcoming as the ocean he was drowning in, filtered down to him.

His frail body broke the surface for just a moment, and he coughed and wheezed desperately, harsh salt water stinging his eyes, throat, and sinuses. He desperately tread the rough water, spinning around, looking for something, anything, that could help him. The waves were high, far above his head, and he barely had time to yelp as another came down on his head. He was forced down, and didn't even have the strength to struggle anymore. He couldn't hold his breath, and water flooded his fragile lungs. He choked, and then his eyes fluttered closed uselessly. It was dark and cold… so so dark and cold.

And he drowned.

…

He screamed as a burning beam came crashing down only three inches from his face, nearly flattening him, sending embers and sparks dancing into the air. Had he not been running for his life, the sparks dancing in the breeze like tiny glowing fairies might have been pretty. Beautiful, even.

He shrieked, or tried to. Smoke entered his lungs, and his eyes streamed as he broke into a coughing fit. He stumbled backwards, and almost immediately recoiled as his bare foot came down on a glowing piece of wood, flames licking at his toes. Te roof creaked and groaned and he just barely managed to throw himself to the ground as more chunks of the ceiling fell. He managed to cough out a wail of pain as something heavy and so so hot landed on his legs, burning him. he struggled, but it did no good; the support beam was several hundred pounds, and he was just four years old. The burning wood ground into his legs, cooking the flesh and making him swuirm about desperately. It did no use.

Succumbing to another fit of hacking, more debris fell around him. he was forced to lay down and cower, arms going up to cover his face as the ceiling above him gave out and fell. It crashed down, sending sparks flying, but miraculously being caught on the remnants of the couch and the beam that trapped him. Plaster, dust, and charcoal rained onto his face, not half a foot from his face. He uncovered his face and looked around. Now he really was trapped, he realized, with eyes watery from smoke and sadness alike.

The fire began to close in. his hearing clouded over; he could no longer hear the crackling flames, the splintering wood, or even his own screams. Violent, hot light invaded his vision as the all consuming flames closed in. They burnt his skin, traveling up his arms and torso, climbing his body. When it reached his face just seconds later, he closed his eyes.

And he burned.

…

Snow whipped into his eyes. An icicle pierced his arm. He tried to cry out, but his lips were frozen together. He took a few more stumbling steps, barely able to move. The snow continued to pull down, whipping his body mercilessly. Every snowflake was sharper than a knife. And he was being assaulted by them, relentlessly, from every angle.

A violent shudder rolled up from his toes, and he came to a halt. Not by choice, though; he had left his feet on the ground too long, and were frozen there. He struggled, trying to free himself, but it was just so cold. He could barely move; everything felt stiff. Frozen. He managed to angle his head down, ice cracking in his neck as it broke. His fingers were almost indiscernible, turned bluish green-gray a long time ago. Frost dug under his fingernails, and several layers of snow coated his digits, so they looked choppy and fake. His whole body was covered in it, the snow stinging him before it clung on like armor.

A particularly strong gust knocked him backwards. The skin on his feet tore and cracked as the ice holding them broke, and he felt into the endless waist-deep snow drift he'd been wading through. He moved to get up, but ice held him to the ground. He struggled harder as the snow continued to come down and swiftly blocked out the world above; no matter how bleak, he wanted to get back to it.

But he couldn't. The frozen water held him in place, held him down, and slowly his struggle stopped; he couldn't move. He was buried, and before he knew it he couldn't breathe. Heavy snow blocked his air, his sight,; everything except his hearing. He could hear the muffled, angry screeches of the air high above, somewhere above the deep snow now burying him. It was quite the unappealing sound.

And he was froze.

….

He was stuck. He was hopelessly tangled, ensnared in a horrible trap, laid by mother nature herself. The vines were alive. They coiled up around his ankles, binding him to floor. They whipped at his sides, holding him in place before securing his wrists, and stretching, so he was on display, eagle spread.

They began to cocoon him, wrapping faster and faster, sprouting thorns and poisonous leaves, carving incisions and spreading poison that dissolved his skin. He screamed, but was swiftly silenced by a vine diving down his throat. He gagged as it grew, swelling, till he couldn't breathe at wall. He began to suffocate, trying to flail, as his cocoon prison continued to grow.

Soon he couldn't see his arms, or legs, or abdomen, and was quickly losing sight of his chest. He was looking rather blue, spots dancing in his vision as the lack of oxygen began to affect him. Then the vines were up to his neck, and sliced his throat. Poison rubbed onto his dry, cracked lips and tears fell. The vines closed over his nose, and just before his eyes were trapped, consciousness was lost.

And he was consumed.

If you're gonna ask where I'm going with this… eh, I can't tell you. It would spoil the fun. I suck at writing intense stuff, so leave a review with some pointers, critique, etcetera, please? *offers plate of cookies to reviewers* Any guesses as to which predicament belongs to which brother? Anyone? Anyone? A free pizza to anyone who gets it right! XD