Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

time. Ask me.
But she just shakes her head slowly, and I don’t know what it means.
I place my hands on her waist. “Ask me.”
But just then, a low hiss pierces the air somewhere behind her, and we
both freeze.
My pulse echoes in my ears, and I peer over her shoulder as she turns her
head, both of us spotting a glowing pair of eyes low to the ground about ten
yards away.
“Liv.”
“Shhh.”
She still holds me pressed to the tree, but both of us are too afraid to
move. I resist the urge to push her behind me. Alligators can’t hear outside of
water, but they have great night vision. I might not be Swamp, but any
Floridian over three years of age knows the basics.
“Don’t leave me,” I beg.
She grew up out here. I don’t know what to do.
“When I say,” she tells me in a hushed tone, “run back to the path and
follow it as fast as you can. They don’t move quickly outside of water, but
there could be more. Don’t zig zag.”
“Huh?” Why?
But she doesn’t wait another second. “Run.”
“Liv!” I gasp, not ready.
She grabs my hand and we pound the mud, the reptile slithering into
view, growling and hissing, and I can’t not look back. I scream, and Liv
crashes into me, falling.
It advances, moving right for her, and she scurries back, trying to get up
until it’s damn near snapping at her feet.
“Ah!” My lungs drop to my feet, and I cry out, grabbing her and hauling
her up. “Oh my God.”
We run, stomping through the mud and jumping over fallen logs, and I
take her hand, not letting her go until we reach the paved road, the streetlights
shining overhead. I dart my eyes all around us, making sure we’re safe.
“Did it hurt you?” I ask.
But she just stares at me, breathing hard and sweat glistening on her
brow.
I don’t know what I want to say. Thank you? Are you okay?
I’m sorry, maybe? I want to say I’m sorry for so many things, because I