Selean listened to the news and gave a “Oh, really?” but otherwise seemed disinterested in the information. “Well, I’ll be sure to pass it on then, miss.” She looked at the coins and waved them away. “Ohhh, don’t worry bout that.” The woman’s chuckle was almost nervous. “Can’t go around charging you for a meal that I offered to you. Think it as a kindness and remember us here with fond memories.” As she turned to head into the woods, Selean gave a kind wave and walked out to watch Cazadora go. Her arms finally crossed and the smile off her lips dropped completely as she watched her disappear off and, with a huff, she turned back into the tavern.
“The nerve of them hunters,” she huffed.
--
Hunting beasts was an art. You tracked, you ran down. Creatures normally hid themselves, concealed in their natural habitat with camouflage and in burrows that were almost impossible to find. However, that wasn’t the case at all with this creature and any fool would have to have been blind to miss the shimmering scales gleaming brightly in the sunlight on a patch of bare rock that was, besides sitting in the middle of a clearing, the size of a small house.
There were mornings. And then, there were mornings. Normal mornings were those that simply existed for you to wake up into them and marked the start of your day before fading incoherently into mid-mornings and dying off in time for the afternoon to roll around. Mornings, however, were those that lingered sweetly in every drop of dew still collected on the grass. They poured over the land leaving it awash in a peaceful lull and they pirouetted across the rocks leaving them warm under their loving touch of new light. Every bit of earth seemed fresh and new, the air itself cleansed by the peace brought by its coming. It was these sorts of mornings that he lived for.
The snake was quite certain he’d never remove himself from the rock unless something pried him, scale by reluctant scale, from his current lounging position. His immense span was almost fully stretched upon the perfectly baked rocks of the morning, copper scales reflecting and shining like freshly minted coins in the shimmering light. Even his head seemed tilted in a rested position, eyelids (a rarity for his species) barely open to show only a moon shaped sliver of amethyst. Having eaten only a day prior and sluggish from the cold nipping nights that signaled the approach of winter, he was quite content visiting this usual basking haunt of his.
The shrill sounding of a horn shook him from his slumber, and his massive head rose off the rock and snapped instantly in its direction.
Unwavering in his gaze, he became a bronzed gargoyle of eerie stillness, the only movement the vaguely detectable rise and fall of his scaled sides. The sudden pounding of soft drums seemed to lull him back to a state of security; he knew the familiar sound of the villagers and their late autumn festivals. Smiling to himself, his head sank back to the rock as he coiled one round of his body under it, resting his head as he gazed out at the forest. If his timing was right, it was only weeks away from the villagers leaving their offerings to him for the coming winter. It wasn’t necessary, of course, but the humans of Sar’qual seemed to insist that pleasing the snake brought on a peaceful winter. Of course, hibernating through it, he had no idea if it actually worked or not. All the same, it was nice to have a full stomach to curl up under the ground with (something distantly akin to having milk and cookies before going on a long afternoon nap).
Adjusting his mid-section, he could still feel the wild ox sitting heavily inside him. A rather old and large bull, he’d been lucky to catch him off guard. It felt a little unfair, sure, but he had been hungry all the same. Thankfully he’d be satisfied for days to come but such a large meal came at a price; he was slowed now, completely, and even with normal basking in the morning he was still going to be sluggish from the weight in his belly. He’d calculated it out, though, and there had been a surprising lack of glory seekers in the area as of late. Of course, the people of Sar’qual had learned to start holding their tongues about Ol’ Copper, as they called him. Endearing title, really. Not even close to his real name, but he didn’t mind at all. Besides, it was one used with fondness if not with respect at times. Distantly, he wondered how long they had been using it, and his mind called as far back as it could in time, only knowing that it had always been there and, well, that was a good enough answer for him.
In a very strange and un-snakelike maneuver, he suddenly rolled over onto his back, exposing his belly and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the morning sun as it stroked his scales in beautiful warming light. He was just so at home here, every fiber of his being and memory tied to this location. Eons of his ancestors had lived in this very spot, and he was inexplicably attached to it. Still...
In the back of his mind there was one voice in a thousand that hissed a warning. Not an eminent danger, but just that something was off. More out of place, really. It was a strange feeling to describe, but it felt as though one single pebble had been added to the forest floor, and yet it was tipping even in its obscurity. It was a sensation so odd that, when the thought did try to rise to the top of his mind, he just pushed it back down under the lapping waves of warmth and comfort.
Unfortunately for him, he had no idea exactly how much he would come to regret that.