Beach Bash

He smiled at Venom, remembering in her the girl he had shown his tree house to, and pet-names Snake. Who had taught him how to hunt when he had been too timid, and his father had hated him for it. The woman who had advised him against hunting a polar bear. She seemed even more different now, older. “Hey, Snake” he said fondly, returning the gesture, and folding a wing over her in a hug. “Sorry to disturb you guys, I brought you some meat” he showed her the prime cut he had snagged before coming over.

“I don’t mean to pry, but do you know what's going on with Auntie Death, mum and puppa? They won’t tell me anything” he whispered softly, lowering his voice, head cradled in the shelter his wing provided between them.