She found it on a cold morning — a creature coiled by the riverbank, wounded and trembling.
It wasn’t love that made her reach for it. It was something else. A sense of purpose.
She took it home.
The thorned serpent did not ask for pity, only a pact.
“You care for me,” it whispered, “and I will protect you.”
And so the days passed.
She fed it. Kept it warm. Tended to its wounds.
Not out of affection — but for the safety it promised.
The serpent watched over her home, circled it in silence each night.
Not from loyalty — but because she had kept it alive.
Together they walked through days of peace.
There were no words of love, but a quiet agreement, unspoken and clear.
Until one day — without a hiss, without warning — the serpent sank its fangs into her flesh and disappeared into the woods.
The pain wasn’t just in her body.
It echoed in her chest — betrayal sharp as the bite itself.
She searched for it, half-alive, dragging her wound through forests and fog.
When she finally found it, hidden in a hollow tree, she fell to her knees.
“Why?” she gasped. “Why did you hurt me? I saved you. I gave you shelter. I gave you everything.”
The serpent looked away.
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” it said. “But your hand was too heavy. You didn’t see how much I struggled. Biting was the only way I knew how to breathe.”
“You could’ve spoken. I would have listened,” she cried.
They argued, as her blood thinned and her strength left her.
But no answer could undo the wound.
No explanation could reverse the venom.
Eventually, she stumbled into a village and collapsed at the healer’s door.
But it was too late.
“She should have come sooner,” the healer said softly. “She spent too long trying to understand someone who never understood her.”
⸻
Moral:
Don’t lose your soul trying to decode the pain someone caused you.
Not all who hurt you will explain. Not all apologies heal.
Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do… is walk away and save yourself.
