Chapter 4 Venom

Finn

Pain rips through my hind leg and drags me out of sleep so violently that my body moves before thought can even form.

The cave is completely dark, but my first instinct is to jump up immediately. Something is attached to me—coiled, burning, alive—and it refuses to release as I twist hard enough to slam it into stone. 

The impact echoes through my bones and up into my spine, but its teeth remain locked in place, not sinking deeper so much as working in frantic, desperate pulses, like whatever has latched onto me is fighting to stay connected even as I try to tear it free.

My jaws snap down into the dark and meet resistance that writhes against me. I realize it’s a snake as it lashes across my muzzle, coils tighter around my leg, and the pain spikes sharp enough to rip a snarl straight out of my chest. 

I drive my shoulder into the cave wall hard enough to shake stones loose, using the force to break its hold, but it doesn’t release cleanly. It thrashes, tightening in reflex instead of retreat, and I feel it weaken only in uneven, stuttering bursts.

It doesn’t stop after the first impact. Even as I adjust my jaw’s grip, it whips back with blind, panicked strength, forcing itself tighter around my leg. I bite down again, harder, feeling the resistance shift under my teeth as the snake coils and strikes in the same motion. 

The fight becomes a collapsing rhythm of force and recoil, my body slamming against the wall as it tries to anchor itself around my leg, sinking its fangs in deeper each time. I break part of its coil with a violent twist, feeling something inside it give, but it still refuses to die. I crush down again until the motion beneath me stops fully, uneven strength finally giving way to death.

When I’m sure the snake is dead, I release my grip, my chest heaving as my body catches up with what has already happened. The bite burns, but not like a surface wound. It spreads in heat that refuses to stay contained, threading itself deeper instead of outward, slipping through muscles and nerves like something learning the shape of me from the inside.

This snake was full of venom, and now, so am I. I push myself up on reflex, but my hind leg nearly collapses the moment it takes weight. The joint gives slightly, not fully breaking, but refusing to cooperate with the precision it should have. 

I catch myself against the cave wall with a violent scrape of claws, bracing as my balance shifts in ways that don’t match the terrain. The cave itself is still, unmoving, yet nothing in my body feels aligned with it anymore. My coordination is already starting to fray at the edges, as if the connection between intent and movement is loosening.

I turn toward the entrance because there is no other option: I have to get out of here. My leg drags instead of responding. My next step follows with more effort, and the burn in my body answers every movement with a pulse that interrupts timing, rhythm, and control. Each wave of heat carries a heavier delay with it, making my limbs feel increasingly disconnected from my command.

The cave stretches ahead longer than it should, or I am moving through it slower than I can comprehend. Shadows press inward at the edges of my vision, not because they move, but because my sight is narrowing, the world dimming around the periphery as if it is closing itself off. My breathing tightens, uneven and panicked. 

Something changes in the air as I near the entrance—faint, distant, but real. I hear water. The silver stream must be somewhere below this ridge. If I can reach it—if I can get there—there might be herbs along the bank. Perhaps I can find an herb to slow the venom, or at the very least, I can use the water to flush the wound before it kills me. 

I drag myself forward again, my hind leg useless behind me. The stream grows clearer with each pull, not close yet, but closer than before, and I fix on it like it’s the only thing still deciding whether I live or disappear.

I stumble and catch myself, my claws biting into dirt hard enough to send a shock through my forelimbs. My body trembles under its own weight. Still, I move. I can’t stay here or I’ll die. 

Finally, I collapse just outside the mouth of the cave. I try to rise out of instinct—to reach help. But who would be out here? And how could they save me? I can’t get up. Waves of heat roll over me as the venom continues to spread, dismantling my body one cell at a time. 

My head lowers without my permission. My breathing slows even as the poison inside me resists it, and my survival instincts are still present but grow increasingly detached. Sound thins, becoming distant and unreliable, while the edges of my vision continue to soften and slip away. 

I lie on my back, trying to focus on the trees above me, but they blur together. My body is no longer functioning as a whole. There are only as failing parts, each one reacting too late to change anything.

Then I realize that I really am going to die out here, and no one even knows where to find me. I’ll never see my friend Robin again, or my brother Gawain, or my father. I’ve never even met my mate.

I try once more to push myself up, but I collapse back into the mud. There’s no strength left to call on, and no way to pull myself back from this alone.

I lift my gaze to the starlit sky and send a prayer to the Moon Goddess. Please, send someone to find me. Send me help. I’ll do anything to repay you and am forever your warrior. 

Then, everything turns completely black.