Photo by Samuel Zeller via Unsplash
Even when Barabagi the Mongoose killed Esnaraban, he couldn’t stop her: she continued writhing and wreathing and weaving, barely pausing.
She shed life like an old skin, splashing rotted flesh onto good and evil alike, until all that remained was a behemoth of bones.
Her bite is still poisonous, of course. The gods’ always are.
Written for this week’s Three Line Tales photo prompt challenge. Thanks to Sonya for hosting! Click on the link to find other stories written for this prompt.