I looked from the trembling, wide-eyed boy to the adults, who were shivering so hard I thought their bones might rattle. They were like a flock of prey that had walked straight into a dragon's den—a flock of very fluffy-eared, terrified prey.
So, rabbits lived on this side of the world, huh? It was no wonder the greenery was so lush and well-kept.
"Please," the boy whimpered, pressing his face flat against the dirt, his long ears drooping in total submission. "Don't eat us, Mr. Snake."
I looked at them quietly, a part of me feeling a strange mix of pity and disbelief. They had followed a snake's trail all this way without a shred of caution.
Just look at them—anyone could hear their teeth chattering and their bones rattling. You'd think they had a grand plan for what to do when they finally caught up to a dangerous predator, but they didn't. They just recklessly followed the trail.
