The light filters in, leaving the mossy ground to glow.
Chirping is nearby but not pinpointed
He sit below the rocks, unseen.
But he is about to be anointed

The leaves slowly rustle around the sheltered rocks
Shifting of scales on the rough surface makes a slow, stale, and squeaky sound
A shadow flits over the opening, leaving the air cold and dry
He knows his fate is nigh as the scales hit the ground

The cold-bloodedness leaves his body and he turns ice colde
The shadow’s blood-red eyes meet his
Fangs show and a split second decision is made in one
He turns and feels a clench and the rock flips

The salamander’s gone, the snake’s mind like a puzzle
There sits the salamander’s tail lying in the niche
His autonomic tail wiggles, clenched tightly by the snake’s muzzle
The tail, back tomorrow, and the salamander, fearful after a near miss with the devil’s kiss