The hissing was getting louder. It sounded like a tire leak in an echo chamber.
Ren stood on the stone threshold of the Vault, staring at the writhing sea of Pit Vipers between her and the exit. The mud was churning as hundreds of angry, cold-blooded killers woke up, sensing the intruder.
"Nice snakes," Ren squeaked, backing up until her heels hit the obsidian doorframe. "Good snakes. Don't bite the Chef."
A large brown viper lunged, snapping its jaws inches from her bare toes.
"Okay, negotiations over."
Ren turned to the barrel of grain alcohol she had spotted. It was heavy, made of aged wood. She didn't have the strength to lift it, so she did the next best thing.
She kicked it over.
CRASH.
The barrel tipped, smashing onto its side. The stopper popped out, and high-proof clear liquid gurgled out, flowing off the platform and cascading down into the mud pit.
The smell of alcohol hit the air instantly.
The snakes nearest the platform recoiled, hissing at the chemical sting.
