Serpents…Tremblingly…he springs out like an electric Slinky.
He springs out. He figures, if he’s fast enough, his hand and eye working together enough, that he can actually catch the head of the viper – stop it curving in its mean little fangs wherever in his vulnerable flesh it might be eying the quickest hit. But he isn’t fast enough. No Indiana Jones before the kid and the emotional baggage. He springs out like an electric slinky, snaps back, his hand stinging, stung in that fleshy bit between thumb and forefinger.
“Y’got me.” he mutters, eyes widening. His hand already a numbed lump.
The viper coils back, plainly annoyed about that numbed lump of hand waving tremblingly before it. Precisely then, of course, out of the dark behind it disturbingly recognizable shapes shape themselves. Scrape the dusty tiles beneath their bellies. Join this viper that has done him in.
His eyes clouding, and tongue hardening in his mouth, he just manages to hiss out his last words, amid their crowding whisperings – “Ssserpents…Why’d it haveta be ssserpen’s…?”