striking
She counted the cobras off as the
chosen one pointed out their hiding places and she stabbed
them. "That is seven, then. I've gotten all of them." She
thought about thanking the chosen one, but the words stuck
in her throat. She had never thanked anyone before. She
shrugged off the miracle of its transformation, of its help.
"You're tired, now, aren't you? You
want to rest. Lie down in the sun and warm yourself. It's
all over now, you know." The chosen one lifted its arm and
stroked her hair, charming her.
She could only nod. The chosen one led
her to her bed, where sun streamed in through the window.
She sat back on the bed, feeling its warmth. Relieved, she
lay down.
The cobras swarmed out from under the
covers, and the feast of revenge began. |
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