She hated that story, hated it now as much as she had hated it when first she heard it. It was disgusting, crass, and she was haunted by that image, the idea of a woman having sex with a snake, a monster.
The lake, Sarah Ann’s largest body of water outside of the ocean that encircled it, was home to many kinds of snake, as well as a host of ibeh homunculi, the more adventurous of which could be seen disputing territory with any mongoose stupid enough to cross their path.
Still, for all the animals and homunculi that haunted the long grass, the old stone ruins of the Snake Goddess were the quietest place on the island, and Poppy Labyrinth felt that she could do with some quiet.
Sitting in the shadow of the goddess’s shadow, the statue being one of the island’s most remarked-upon attractions, her features eroded by time and the elements, Poppy kept turning her attention back to that old story, the one about the snake and the woman.