by the throat

The cobras conferred with their gods, who counseled patience. It was not enough to think of revenge as they were held by the throat, as the air rushed from their smooth underscales. It was not enough to think of being helpless under her grasp.

They would know when the time was right, when they could take her by the throat and instill the mind numbing fear that only prey should know. This, the gods said, was worth waiting for.

It was only a matter of time before we strike, they whispered amongst themselves. Only a matter of time before we can go back. But before we do, they told themselves, this is what must be done. And this.

Slowly, their grasp on reality tightened its noose.