Page 72 of Cursed Shadows 4

The ice-burn of the python’s stare itches into my flesh. It watches me closely, tracing my every move as I reach out my gloved hand for the sleepy critter.

Then I snatch out, fast.

Cold fur wriggles in my fist. The rodent squeals in my grip, but I have no more attention to spare on it.

Sinking back against the bark, I look up at the python.

Its eyes flare on me, ice-storms, and it slithers closer, too close. I watch as it snakes over the snow-dusted branch, then uncoils directly above my lap, where it curves around—and faces me.

I bring my fist to the snake.

The critter writhes in my hand; doesn’t thrash, like it should in my predatory grip, but wriggles as though it can slip out of my hold and drop to safety.

Never straying my gaze from the watchful ice-python, I slide the pad of my thumb along the smooth fur of the creature. Once my thumb finds its heartbeat in the arch of its neck, I twist my hand.

The snap of the rodent’s neck is as faint as parchment crinkling at the corner. It goes limp in my grip.

I reach out my hand and offer it to the ice-python.

For the first time since it dropped from the branches above, the snake fully wrenches its gaze from mine, it looks away for longer than a second—and my muscles dare to release some of their wrapped tension.

Still, the air is pinned to my throat, and I don’t dare do so much as a swallow, in case it lures the snowy gaze of deadly promises back to me.

But the python is entranced by the offering. Its eyes gleam like glowjars, all the tiny holes for nostrils the creature has, they suddenly expand with a flared inhale. A black forked tongue flicks out and tastes the air.

A wince strikes through me.

The creature snaps its jaw at me—and snatches the rodent from my grip.

The flinch has me smacking back into the tree trunk. My shoulders curve inwards, the tension in my body braced for attack.

No such attack comes.

Eyes wide, I watch as the python flicks its head back and devours the rodent whole.

The swell runs down its throat, down its belly, then settles there. A lump in the fine, smooth shape of the snake.

It will want to rest now. If the python is like the others in my world, once it has eaten, it must rest to digest the meal.

More than an offering I gave it, I gave it a reason to leave.

And, after a curious look, it does.

The tail coils around the branches above before it starts to lift itself.

The python is appeased.

I watch it go, until the camouflage melts into it, and I can’t see it anymore. Must be quite a powerful hunter on this mountain, with only the black of its tongue to reveal it, a hidden giveaway that prey would only see at the last moment, in their final breath before the panic sets in.

I hope it found alliance in me.

I showed that I am no threat.

But that could rebound. Might see me as an easy target, now.

So I keep my stare locked above.

Moments pass before I finally trust that the python won’t return to lash out at me.

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