DRUID with all his lore, in moment’s distraction tastes
CRUELty of creation’s estate. Fangs sink into arm,
SWELL begins in instant, time stopping on an edge. He watches
SNAKE wriggle away. Sometimes, creation’s dispensary holds poison only, no antidote upon its shelves.
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Quite a vivid scene!
Thanks! It’s a “How does a Druid process fallen creation” scenario, like one writes.