A man and his bitch in heat. Their vile, displeasing stench had not reached her nose at once—for there was that layer of grease clinging to her skin, clouding her senses, rising to her head. But once she had caught the scent, it was all she could smell.

And how could she have missed them? Two giants. Each as monstrously tall as the other. To find herself so near these lust-drunk colossi had all the makings of a mortal snare for Garance.

They watched—he, above all—but not with the gaze men usually cast upon her. He was with his catch of the moment, and Garance was far from able to rival the charms of such a siren, however monstrous she appeared in her eyes.

Slowly, with the precision of a scalpel, the viper slid forward under the colossus’s gaze—attentive, silent, like him. She studied every inch of his being, her languid eyes sweeping over him with what seemed a natural lasciviousness. And yet, she knew too well: this was no hour for honeyed smiles or idle dalliance.

What truly drew her was the water. The soot on her fur felt light, yet within it she carried a crushing weight—one that clenched at her throat and could be exorcised only by the clear purity of the river.

Carefully, her gaze still locked on the man in black, Garance managed to take her first few sips from the stream.

Though she seemed watchful, the gentle viper had not taken care to keep her distance from the pair. It even seemed she had, quite deliberately, drawn closer—her tail swaying behind her like the rattle of a desert snake...