A patch of orange caught his eye, and he smiled. “I don’t want you to lose me,” she’d said. And he hadn’t. He pushed through the branches and into a small clearing canopied by trees. The orange scarf lay across some briars, where it had apparently blown loose and snagged as she fled. Oh, well. It confirmed he was on the right track. He went to retrieve it — maybe he’d keep it after all — when a faint rustle in the leaves pulled him up short. He’d just registered the snake when it struck, uncoiling like a spring and digging its teeth into the forearm extended toward the scarf. “Aa!” he screamed
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