The mongoose crouched, hidden behind the rock. She listened to the slithering on the stone and flattened her ears in worry. Her eyes scanned the black darkness of the cave for any signs of movement. All she could sense was the approach of the King.
The King. Leader and terrorizer of the king cobras, a bully, but a smart one. Danger. She shivered. He was coming. The mongoose glanced out of her hiding spot. Far away in the darkness, she could see two glowing red lights. She quickly looked away, before he could spot her.
Her heart pounded. Three strikes and you’re dead. That was the motto of the horrible, evil cobras, who had no pity or mercy for innocent mongeese and egrets. And, of course, the diamond cobras. But no one talked about them anymore, right?
Three strikes and you’re dead. Three strikes and you’re dead. No, the mongoose realized with a sickening jolt.
No, she would be dead in one strike.