Snake Slayer
by Rachelle Reese
“Snake Slayer” by Rachelle Reese. Copyright © 2009 by Rachelle Reese
Published 2009 at Smashwords
A Smashwords Edition
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Rachelle Reese is the co-author of the following print books:
Bones of the Woods
Mind of a Mad Man
She also writes living novels at http://www.textnovel.com
To view other e-books by Rachelle Reese at Smashwords, visit:
http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/rachellereese
I stroke the scythe-shaped scar on Trinket's delicate head, dreading what I know will happen soon. It's snake season. I saw one flicking its tongue a few days ago while I cut daffodils to brighten up my office. And the warm winter promises there will be even more snakes than last year.
Last year was bad for snakes -- baby copperheads smashed on the gravel road, long black snakes wending through the forest and the flower garden, and copperheads hiding under the porch and in the overgrown weeds. Hiding from human eyes, but not from Trinket.
Trinket hunts all reptiles, but snakes are her passion. She runs her long dachshund nose along the ground, eager for the reptile fragrance. Unfortunately, sometimes she finds it. If we're lucky, it's a turtle stuck on the opposite side of the fence. If we're not, it's a reptile that dared to cross into Trinket's territory.
When we adopted Trinket, we had no idea she was a hunter. Her attitude was more that of a pampered lapdog. Trinket was eager for attention. She would dance to get a can of dog food, crawl on her belly when you called her name, and lay for hours on your lap if she had the chance.
We learned about her taste for reptiles one hot June night. We'd gotten home just after dark, checked the backyard for cats, and then let the dogs out. About ten minutes later, the backyard erupted with a horrible commotion. I was worried we hadn't seen a cat and raced outside with the flashlight. A circle of dogs surrounded the grill. Trinket was beneath it, growling. I shined the flashlight on her. Its battery died instantly, but in the split second of illumination, I'd seen the outline of a snake much longer than its slayer. At least, I hoped the snake was dead. “Go! In the house,” I shouted at the dogs. I managed to get all but Trinket inside.
“John,” I called. “Get the oil lamp! Trinket's got a snake.”
“She's got a what?” John shouted.
“Snake,” I shouted back. “A big one.”
“Is it dead?”
“I don't know. The flashlight died.”
Now the ironic thing is, John's afraid of snakes. But he came out anyway, waving the oil lamp. I crept close to Trinket, but not too close. I wasn't taking any chances. She growled as I approached.
“I don't think you'll get her away from it,” John said.
“Doesn't look that way. Is it dead?”
John held the light closer so we could see, “Yeah, it's dead.”
“What kind is it?”
“It's hard to tell. She's eaten everything but the head.”
“Great. I hope it wasn't poisonous.”
“We can hope.”
We went inside. After about ten minutes, I went out to check on Trinket. She let me pick her up and I brought her in the house, where the two of us checked her over to make sure she hadn't been bitten. Her breath reeked of reptile flesh and pieces of it dripped from her smile. She struggled in my arms.
“I don't think she's finished with it yet,” John said.
“Do you think I should let her finish it?”
“I guess.”
I set her down and she ran out the back door. As soon as she got outside, she saw several of the other dogs nosing around the site of the kill. She bared her teeth and rushed toward them, growling. They all backed away. Even the bigger dogs didn't want to mess with Trinket that night. She resumed her feast.
We talked more about the snake over dinner.
“I can't believe she killed it. It must have been three times as long as her.” I said.