Only when Master Deylin slowed did Luke finally understand what the hunt had truly been for.
Snakes.
Not one—but a pair.
They lay draped over Master Deylin's arm with unsettling elegance, their scaled bodies thick and powerful, patterned in muted greens and ashen blacks that blended seamlessly with the forest floor they had been pulled from. They weren't small creatures either. Each was long enough that, had Luke seen them first without warning, his instincts would have screamed danger.
Instead, he stood still.
Watched.
The snakes were alive. Very much so. They coiled lazily around Master Deylin's forearm, not in panic, not in aggression, but in something that almost resembled curiosity. Their tongues flicked in and out, tasting the air. One lifted its head slightly, golden eyes locking onto Luke for just a second longer than was comfortable.
