The zebra had awoken, his glasses shattered on the ground before his eyes.

Surprisingly enough, seeing the little object in such a state didn’t worry him, which was perplexing to him, nonetheless. His lack of surprise or shock, however, piqued his curiosity even more.

What happened to him?

He... couldn’t remember. Vestiges of memories drifted in his mind. He remembered the compression, the restrainment, the heat and humidity, and her scales. Her grip. His indigence, and fear, and distress.
That naga, she did this to him, destroyed and reconstructed him in her image...

He was grateful.
For years, he lived with the fear of a prey in his heart. Now, much in the way he bore Saāmpa’s resemblance, he too bore her hunger.

The tables had turned.



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