Wilma's rain wild while her brain whirred in instinct actions. Survival, in a unknown forest where humans are not the dominate species anymore was not finding a way to civilzation anymore. This wasn't lighting a flare or calling a state trooper. Physically she was no longer human, therefre could no longer operate on their principles. Basic survivalist training says food, water shelter. Laws of nature? Wilma wasn't sure if she knew.

Her body might instinctively be able to spot those morals but her mind could not. Living in the wild meant... surviving? Ah this just came down to the same conclusion! What was she supposed to do?! Lie down and play dead, letting her sons and daughters die in the process?

No!

All animals survive on food and water, that's a check. The subsitute for shelter would probably be territory? Right? Tigers are territorial, dinosaurs were too, so who says snakes aren't? But what if they aren't? Well, an animal wold just assume other animals to be predator or prey? If everything is boiled down to animal planet logic...? But what if they are others who have the sensibilities of human, does that make them animal? Does that make you animal?

STOP IT!

Pihilsophical questions aren't going to help right now. We have water, next is food. Her children's due date is unpredictable even if she assumed she just gave birth. Who knows how long snake-human baby hybrids incubate? More than that, she needs to stay alive for them. 

How does one go hunting for food, she asks herself while standing next to a primary food source for general snake populations from earth. Water, the birthplace of all life. And even if that doesn't apply to this odd world, something has to be thriving in there, right? Wild guessing was all she could go with for now. Until she finally had a grasp on this world in general.

With hesitation mixed with self imposed confidence, she slithered into the stream. Once she passed onto the other bank, her thick tail was enough to completely stop the stream. It pooled up around the curve of her tail and built as the water that just slipped past disappeared without the force of the stream.  Wilma didn't know what she expected. Crayfish? Frogs? Minoes? What kind of animals even live in backyard streams?

What Wilma wasn't expecting was for there to be nothing. Scratch that, she kind of had to expect it. The weight that even the megar knowledge she had could not apply was hard - a weight added to bar shoulders that had not yet been trained to lift up the sky. Did this mean that nothing from her own world could apply? Was she alone?

Caw--

Wilma's tail straightened, letting water slosh over her uncurved tail and back into the path it had forged.  Her eyes trained the tree tops but even with what she assumed was clearer vision, all she saw were leafy tree tops and the haze of shadow. Through that expanse of green and intermitant blue and yellow, she could barely make out the crossing of birds from tree to tree. She at least knew that there was something familiar.

Dejectadely and a little more grounded into this world if only so much, Wilma headed back to her children. Incrdibly, it was easy to pathfind her way back. It seemed as if the little hills of dirt sunk into the ground were clearly noticable as her own. A skill that probably wasn't entirely.... from Earth.

The walk- no, slide back was smooth, less tense then before. She could now here the caw of birds, the rustle of wind in the leaves, the movement of undergrowth. This sort of open feeling of being in the forest was nostalgic. Like spending time out in the old cabin learning to shoot a bb gun at a thing of painted foam. Like begging to start the fire even though her arms were the length of a postage box. Would her children get to feel that feeling?

Would they break through their shells to share that day with their... mother? Would she be there to start the fire and steady the gun?

She entered the clearing with a low rustle, expecting no unnatural sound in return. Her downturned eyes were so clouded with what if's that she didn't notice the furry little paws digging into the tree root base. It wasn't until she heard the chittering that she realized the danger.

Crowded around the base of a tree with freshly dug soil, three rodent like creatures pawed away at the dirt. They were plump, almost round with heads that ended at a point. Two small ears stuck out on either side of their head, assuming that the clover shape was intentional. Their mouths were like a squirells but their paws seemed almost weapon like. They dug gouges into the ground with a few quick throws of their paws, making her heart sink.

Her body acted almost instinctively. Her human hands rapidly struck out as her lower body propelled her forward through the air on sheer strength alone. Like doing a baseball style slide through mid air, she hit the ground with two of them turning around and another pressed under her body. Her nose flared and her eyes darted.

They stole her children!

It now, whether it had been before or not, a matter of food now. No humanity could be used against murders. Her powerful hands gripped the two sides of the little rodents body, pulling violently downward while sticking her thumbs into it's sides. The spine of this unfamiliar creature created a satisfying crack.  

She sped off, not even looking behind her as she raced after her eggs. Recklessly powering through, giving no forethought to if her other children would be safe without her.  The contracting, powerful movements of her body propelled her foreward inhumanly, quickly gaining speed on the rodents due to sheer size alone. They scuttled with all their might, trying their best to find a tree to crawl up into, but Mama Wilma was going to have none of that.

The closest one to her was pulled from the ground mid sprint, dying with a squeal and a crack. As if it could acutely sense the danger approach, the other worked it's mousy little body as fast as possible, dropping the egg to favor of safety. Wilma's heart dropped. Again, she acted without thinking, throwing her entire body forward to catch the egg. It landed safely within her grasp. 

Her heart beat hard against her chest, her eyes stung with adrenaline and fear. The one egg that had been dropped was squished out of shape. The other that was in the claws of the sprinting rodent was at least partially fine.  She scooped them all up and tightly pressed them into her chest, prey and eggs alike, then sped back home.

Despite her dangerous risk in leaving her other children exposed she returned with everyone back safely. Tossing away the rodent corpse, she lovingly place the two eggs back with their siblings. Her hand paused when pulling away from the squished one. She wasn't sure if it was okay.  And if it wasn't, she wasn't sure she could throw it away either. For dear lord- dear anyone- she hoped they were okay safely wrapped in their shell.

If not, she felt the incomng genocide of rodent like creatures in the surrounding area. Someone would have to pay for what happened. 

periodicallymirdered

I felt I had to stop this chapter here before tentatively giving applause to myself for writing a semi chase sequience. To be honest, in my head, I was imagining a slick movie scene but when I worded it out it felt more like a set of actions preformed by a computer. Still working on that. I wanted to say thank you for those who liked my crappy first chapter and to say you are the best.

Snake fact for this chapter - the type of snake I based Wilma's lower half off of is a constrictor. It catches onto it's prey with it's mouth before silently squeezing it to death between the coils of it's body. Meaning, she's got some incredible muscles in that tail. If at average this snake grows to 7 feet long, imagine how much damage Wilma could do when she's 3 times bigger with the upper half of a human? Creepy.