Sidewinding

Note: Story contains adult language.

My daily patrol consists of me looking at a bunch of sand. And I mean a lot of sand. I know it’s a desert, but there never seems to be anything else to look at. Sometimes I hope to find camel droppings or footsteps to follow. It could lead me to a band of pirates, or traveling merchant. Whatever it would be, hopefully I could kill it, just for fun. 

Jeriah always tells me not to kill for fun or sport, but that’s just a result of doing my job. We can’t have trespassers on our land. What if they discover our little asylum? Our hidden secret in this vast landscape of nothingness? I just can’t stand for that. 

They put me on the dusk patrols when the moon is full. They say it’s just part of the rotation but I know it’s because my eyesight is starting to go and they want the moon to help light up the dunes. Today is one of those days. 

I stretch my shoulders as I scan the sand. Nothing. Just like yesterday, last week, last year. I don’t know how far away other people even live. It’s not part of my duty to care, so I don’t. The wind isn’t blowing much tonight so I let my scarf hang around my neck. 

My trek leads me up a hill to overlook the northern part of our territory. To the right I see something move. Something that isn’t sand. 

I slide down the slope and hop so my feet don’t get stuck. My senses are alert, eyes trained, ears perked up like a cat. I half-crouch and step closer to the movement. 

A rattling greets me. 

“Shit. That shouldn’t be there,” I hiss through gritted teeth. 

A rattlesnake. A fucking rattlesnake. In our northern territory. They haven’t existed in the wilds for almost a hundred and thirty years. 

“Did you get out, little one?” I ask it. 

Its response is another rattle. 

“Not so good with the words, eh? Don’t worry, me neither.” 

I keep my distance while inspecting its pattering. Protrusions above the eyes that look like horns, two bands above its rattle, thirty-four dark dots going down its back. Shit. Ours have thirty-six dots. Each and every one of them. 

“Where in fuck did you come from? You shouldn’t be here, you can’t be here!” 

I lean and count the dots again. And again. Thirty-four each time. 

“Jeriah will be pissed.” 

I can’t help but laugh a little. Only a little, because this really isn’t that funny. This shouldn’t be here. 

The position of the moon above the horizon lets me know I’m hardly three hours into my patrol. No one will be coming around here for another six hours. 

“Well,” I shrug and sit in the sand, cross-legged. “Better make myself comfortable. We’ll be getting to know each other real well tonight!” 

The rattler keeps its eyes trained on me. It doesn’t want to bite me, that would be stupid of it. Do you know how long it takes a rattlesnake to produce venom? Ours take ten to twenty seven days to replenish theirs. It would only bite me to keep me from killing it first. 

“You know, it would take hours for your venom to actually kill me,” I tell it, like it doesn't know its own body. “I’d swell up, get dizzy and nauseous, go into shock, and die. I wouldn’t be able to distinguish the chills from this Godforsaken desert’s cold ass winds, though.” 

Nothing. Just like always. 

It moved a little, trying to bury itself under the coarse grains of sand. Sideways shifts that lift up the substrate to rest on top of its body. 

“Oh, no you don’t. I need you visible.” 

Shit. I didn’t have a bag with me because why would I. No hooks or tongs. And I can’t go back for it, it would be long gone by the time I returned. Well, maybe. But too much of a risk. 

My scarf dangling above my chest is the only thing I’ve got. 

I unwrap it from around my body. It’s a thin material but has enough fabric to stretch out. After a moment of consideration, I slip the dagger from its sheath on my forearm and poke a few holes along the edges of the scarf. It takes me a few minutes to loop the fabric through a few times, but I think I made an adequate makeshift basket. 

“So, friend. Here’s what we’re going to do.” I shift to squat on the balls of my feet. “I’m going to throw this over you, you’re going to stay in it and be a good little rattler.” 

In response, it rattles at me. 

“Right.” 

It strikes at my first toss. 

“Okay, let’s try this again.” 

Another toss, another strike. It’s getting annoyed with me now. It tries to slink backwards, but I only step toward it. 

Finally I’m able to get the whole scarf around it. Taking a side I slowly loop it under its body, picking up some sand with it. 

“Aha!” 

It falls into the sling as I pull on it to close it. As closed as it can be. Hopefully it won’t be smart enough to notice the holes where it can just so very easily slip out. 

Standing up, very slowly, I let the fabric fall to hang down. It almost makes a strap of sorts. Keeps my arm away from it in case it does get out. Only now I’ll have to walk with my arm straight out away from my body so it doesn’t bite me through the fabric. 

I haven’t been bit so far in my life, and don’t plan on letting this random little fucker do it to me. 

“Alright. Let’s get you to Jeriah.” 

I can feel it writhing as we start the walk back to the stronghold, at a brisker pace than what I started my patrol as. 

This is the find of the century. Literally. 

Oh, I’m going to get promoted for this for sure.