I leapt up and stumbled backward. The embers of my campfire flared as my feet kicked into them, and heat seared through the soles of my boots. I stepped clear and reached for my weapon.
The snake hissed, sounding as surprised as I was. Though its fang-lined maw did not move, it was clearly the source of the strange voice. “No, hold still,” it muttered.
“You can talk?” I asked aloud. My hand found my spear in the darkness, and I levered the point between the snake’s eyes. In the fading light of the remains of my fire, I could see the scar on its neck where I had injured it earlier in the day. The scales there had already begun to knit together. It was healing, and fast—too quickly to be anything but magic. This was no ordinary beast.
Continue reading “Journey to the Water Chapter VIII: Volcano’s Edge”
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