I ran toward the wounded snake as he pulled himself free from the dam, another surge of water already rushing behind him. The beavers stayed back, wary—probably afraid he might turn on them next. Did he attack the rats because he saw an opportunity to devour prey? He was definitely the one who grabbed me and held me back earlier—but why? Did he think I was going after the rats?
Whatever his intentions were, his actions saved lives.
I needed to help him. And thank him.
If he tried anything dangerous, I would burn him.
"You're badly hurt," I said as I approached. "Can I help? I have medicinal herbs and cotton." My voice came out more worried than I expected.
"Thank you," the snake replied calmly, "but I think I'll be fine. I don't want you to think I'll hurt you."
I understood the sentiment—but the last time someone badly injured refused my help, it ended terribly. Never again.
"No buts," I said firmly. "I'm helping you now. And if you try anything, I can fight back."
Before he could protest again, I cleaned his wound with cotton, crushed medicinal herbs, and added a small pulse of my healing power.
As I worked, I rambled to break the tension. "You know, I've met plenty of snakes since coming here. You're probably the fourth one. I can't remember what they all looked like. The first one—definitely not you. The second one…" I laughed nervously. "No, that couldn't be you."
He didn't respond, but I could feel his gaze on me.
His piercing green eyes were predatory—sharp enough to make anyone feel exposed. My hands stilled. "There. You're done. Uh—thank you. And please don't ever think about attacking the beavers or me as food. We are not on the menu."
What am I even saying?!
"You don't remember me?" he asked. "I helped you in the mountains. I showed you the safe path—to the peak, to the bats, to save the King of the Air."
I stared at him, stunned.
"That's impossible," I blurted out. "That snake was tiny. You're—look at you!"
The size difference alone made me burst out laughing. Just then, Igor and a few beavers rushed toward us, gripping branches like weapons. That only made me laugh harder—so hard my sides hurt.
"Shelley from the Bunny Tribe, are you alright?" Igor asked urgently. "Did this snake hurt you?"
"No! No—everything's fine," I said quickly, still laughing. "He's fine. I'm fine."
The snake frowned. "Shelley from the Bunny Tribe? I thought—"
"Igor!" I cut in fast. "Why don't all of you head home and rest? I'll handle the snake."
After some convincing, the beavers finally retreated. Once they were gone, I hurried back to him.
"Shelley?" he said. "Isn't your name Sienna? And what's a Bunny Tribe? I've never heard of one."
"None of your business," I snapped. "I don't owe you explanations. And you are not the snake from the mountain. That snake was small. Another snake told me your kind shares visions."
"That was me," he said flatly. "Is it such a crime that I can grow? You're the one hiding things."
The audacity.
I looked at his battered body again. Why was I doubting him? Maybe because, back in my world, snakes symbolized betrayal. But Igor taught me better than that. I couldn't judge based on old beliefs—especially when this snake had helped me more than once.
"Fine," I sighed. "Thank you—for the mountain. And for today. I owe you. What do you want in return? And don't say you want to eat me, because that's not happening."
I smiled nervously, tucking wet hair behind my ear, rubbing my arms against the cold. He watched me silently, expression unreadable, making my heart pound.
"Actually," he said at last, "I don't want you as food. How about… a friend?"
A friend?
That was unexpected—but harmless, right? At least he didn't say mate.
"Alright," I said carefully. "Friends. What's your name?"
"Vesper," he replied. "So… Sienna or Shelly?"
"It's up to you."
He chose Sienna, but I explained that—for now—I preferred Shelly. I even told him the Bunny Tribe was cute. When I said I had to head home, he offered to walk me part of the way. I let him.
He asked questions. I answered cautiously. No matter how friendly he seemed, I couldn't fully open up. Still, he didn't push—like he was willing to wait.
I stopped a short distance from my refuge.
"This is me," I said. "Thank you again."
His wounds were nearly healed.
I waited until he disappeared into the distance before turning and sprinting the other way.
He might be my friend—but I couldn't let anyone get too close. If it were up to me, I wouldn't have made any connections at all. But Vesper was an exception. I owed him.
He was mysterious. And unsettling.
I didn't even know how we'd meet again. He didn't know where I lived. Maybe that was for the best.
At least I didn't owe him anything anymore.
The next few days, I stayed inside my cabin—and somehow caught a cold.
A cold.
How?! I'm supposed to be strong now. Powerful. Yet here I was, sneezing, sniffling, miserable—
—and an inner voice wouldn't stop urging me to find a mate.
Great.