“This is not my ceiling.” Erhart croaked out, his eyes stinging while staring up at a flat white ceiling. Nothing like his cabin logs at home. 

“That's because this is not your home.” A feminine voice crawled over him, making all the hairs on his body stand on end. He tried to move away, but his body had other ideas. Unable to move at all, because he felt like he had a heavyweight over top of him. He moved his eyes to the side of his bed, blinking until his vision cleared. “Are you okay, honey?” 

“Stay away,” Erhart croaked out, his throat dry enough to classified itself as its own desert. The women stood there looking down at him with orange, slits for eyes. Hair fell down in thick red waves down her back, if his hair was the colour of dusty red rose. Hers was the colour of fresh blood. 

From the bed, he could tell she was likely his height. Around five-six, five-seven. Her large breast pushed out with a brown leather corset over top of her white button-up shirt. More buttons were undone, revealing the tops of her breast, given how she was now leaning over him. She must have noticed him look, but failed to pick up on his disgust. 

“It's okay, we're family, dear.” She smiled and twirled her figure around her hair while she spoke. “More like distant cousin. Distant cousins can have more fun, than regular cousins.” She winked at him, and Erhart disgust ran up a notch. How could anyone be so… Erhart shook his head. 

He may not have had access to internet, given how they lived out in the boonies. His father at least gotten them plenty of movies and books instead. This woman gave off some slutty vibes, and he wanted no part of it. Erhart tried moving again, his limbs were numb, tickling all over, but more responsive. “I'm Falle Amkin, a relative from your mother's side.” 

“Now tell me, who did you bond with?” She pulled a fake smile with her bright red lips. Erhart suspected a lot of guys fell for the pretty face, and the boobs. Those boobs were something else. Wriggling his fingers, he didn't know what she wanted, and he wouldn't tell her if he did. His eyes darted around the room, he noticed a pitcher of water, who knows what that woman did with it while he was out. Everything else was whiter than white, and not even a window to shine in light. 

“Go back to your nest, you damn snake.” Erhart couldn't move, but it didn't mean he had to back down. If he had shown even an ounce of courage with his dad... Erhart fingers moved enough to curl into a ball. He wouldn't be facing this woman now, his dad wouldn't allow it. He needed to be stronger, he had to find him. Once he got out of here. Blood rushed in his veins, he could feel it flowing, moving the numbness along; he could move his toes now too. 

“Your mother was a damn snake too, honey.” Falle fingers trace a circle on his chest. Flashing back to that large snake from his dream, he couldn't stop his body from shivering. She gave off similar energy to that giant snake; and he was hoping his bravery would outlast her. Wishing for the barrier that protected him in his dream. Erhart knew his words didn't have much to back them. He didn't exactly strike fear into people with his sickly body. 

“She never ate anyone, unlike you.” Erhart could tell she ate people. Never trust a snake with orange eyes, his dad taught him that about his mother's people. His mother's eyes, according to his dad; were a rich, earthy brown; like his. 

“Eating one more wouldn't be much of an issue then.” Her hand came up and snagged his throat. “It's obvious you didn't choose the right clan.” The grip on his throat started to constrict his air flow. He brought up his hands and tried to bat her off, failing miserable. His efforts earned him a scornful laugh, and her nails digging into his neck. “I wonder... how does a Heart taste?” Her tongue came out in a long pink line, the fork end of it licking a wet trail down his face. 

“You-” Erhart voice cut off with a tighter hold to his neck. He forgot about her hand, and grabbed her tongue, twisted it in his hand. He enjoyed the wide eye orange stare he got in return. “Cow,” Erhart finished when the shock loosened her hold. Then he pulled, hard enough to piss her off, not hard enough to pull it out. Not that he would want that, snake blood was it poisonous? He didn't want to find out.  

Falle eyes narrowed into slits, orange piercing down at him. A hard crack tightened his hold on her tongue, and then her jaw started to move. Twisting from left to right, each time, her jaw bone snapped, and crack. Growing wider and longer with each movement. Her tongue slipped from his hand, taking place of her hand around his throat. Seeing the inside of her mouth turn into a vast pit of fanged death. Along with the slick slime from her saliva, added to the slow drain of blood he felt leave his face. He had believed in himself too soon, thinking he could take her on. Idiot. Erhart shot the insult at himself, he really needed to learn. 

“Dad,” Erhart whispered despite the tongue rope around his neck. His squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see anymore. I'm sorry Dad, there was more to strength than words. He knew that, but he tried; he hoped his dad would understand that. 

“That's enough,” a firm voice shot hope into his world. “Or you'll find yourself on the menu, Amkin.” A high pitch screaming hiss, rattled his eyes open. A large brown talon, like the ones seen on a hawk or an eagle. Came around the top of Falle mouth, dragging it back. Her tongue peeled off his neck with a hard snap. Erhart dragged in a bout of fresh air. Leading him into a coughing fit, from dragging in too much too soon. “Take care of the Heart.” 

Watching Falle get dragged from the room by her oversized snake head. Made his coughing fit feel a little better. Burning lungs, and throat pain, wasn't that big of a deal. The cherry on top was her kicking her feet with no respect toward her own dignity. A long white coat drifted behind the man who did it, that was all he saw before they went out the door. 

“Pardon me Heart,” he spoke in accent English, but he couldn't say from where. The large man with a black shirt pulled tight over his broad chest. Came over to his side, pulling him upright, and rubbing his back with a large rough hand. His eyes were a warm chocolate brown, that looked down at him with worry. His skin was a warmer, richer shade of the brown. He seemed nice, and at least Erhart overcame the danger of dying.