Behind me, my tail flicked through the breeze, the stale, dusty grass chafing my scales as I slithered across the well-worn path. Silently, I scanned for my breakfast, tongue gliding out to sense the mouse’s location. As I hunted, I became conscious of a slight reverberation through the ground, an assured indication that humans were awake and ready to spoil my morning. I slid back into the tall grass, avoiding the path as I felt the hikers grow near. Having practically given up on my rodent meal, I was surprised to smell the mouse only a few feet away. The hikers now forgotten, I could almost feel the warm little body sliding down my throat, one last squeak audible in its distress.
Silently, I crept back onto the path, consumed with hunger.
Silently, I crept back onto the path, consumed with hunger.