Fenn's boots dragged through the hot sand as he stumbled forward through the desert wastes. His right boot had a hole in it, and the powdery grains grinded between his toes with every step he took. He felt like his body couldn't sweat fast enough to keep up with the blazing sun above.

“Starting to wish we didn't make it outta the oasis, huh?” he mumbled ruefully to the little wooden idol strung around his neck, a crude carving of a man whose hands were clasped in prayer. “But, y'know, you're the one who always tells us... better to die of thirst on our feet than drown on our knees in sugarwater, right? Or somethin’ like that?”

The little idol of Saint Juniper had nothing to say in reply.

Fenn laughed, but his laughter was hoarse. “Some help you are.”

Fenn had plenty of water, but he felt like he was about to pass out from heatstroke. He needed coolness. He needed a chance to rest. And he needed shelter. The sun would be setting soon, and then the coyotemaids would be coming back out to play. He didn't want to be out in the middle of nowhere when they did.

His eyes had been scanning the horizon all day every time he crested the dunes, searching for the specks of green that might mark the riverline, and so he almost didn't notice the tracks right in front of him. His boot scraped through one, and then he noticed the next.

Fenn stopped short, squinting down at his feet.

Wavy, tapering lines were drawn through the sands. They looked like... like wind-ripples, almost. They were about the width of two of his boots heel-to-toe at their widest point, and stretched about as long as he was tall. Each line was separated about a meter from the last.

Fenn's eyes traveled along the length of one, noting the little J-shaped hook it performed before continuing to the next ripple. And the next. They continued up the dune and farther off into the desert, directly across his path.

Fenn glanced at the idol with a raised eyebrow. “Well. Is this your way of apologizing, or is it a punishment? What do you suppose made tracks like that?”

His god had nothing of use to say.

Fenn rolled his eyes, tucked the idol under his collar, and started walking. He had no idea where the trail might lead, but it had to be something living, and it wasn't an oasis nymph or a coyotemaid. That was good enough. The tracks led up an especially towering dune, and he'd have to basically crabwalk to make any headway, but any sign of life was hope right now.

* * *

The shadows descending over Fenn were almost as much a relief as the water cascading down his shoulders, soaking his curly hair and washing sweat and salt and sand from his stinging skin. It soaked his clothes, too, but that was fine. This place was a blessing, and he hadn't seen any nymphs yet, but that didn't mean he was about to disrobe for an unknown audience.

The tracks had led him to a small oasis—much smaller than the one he'd escaped—shaded by tall, sprawling juniper trees. The trees here were twisted and contorted, their trunks rising and falling in serpentine shapes suggesting a stubborn centuries-old battle against the winds.

And best of all, a shrine to the Selfish Traveler, Saint Juniper, had been placed at the grove’s center with an ancient—but functioning— sacred water pump. He'd had just enough left in his waterskin to prime it, and now he could take his first semi-shower in weeks.

He released the pump, setting his idol in the shrine’s hollow for now amongst a dozen similar idols of varying levels of quality and material, and made his way over to one of the juniper trees. He chose one with especially large and tangled roots for ideal seating space.

As Fenn's knees gratefully folded, he let out a weary sigh with a wordless prayer folded into it. He could just make out the sky through the trees, and the sun was just starting to set, creating a wildfire haze of golds and crimsons across the western sky.

He'd make camp here, then continue on at first light. Finally, a bit of luck.

“Oh,” a soft voice whispered, as close and intimate as if it were right in his ear. “Well, hello, there, traveler.”

A delicate rattle filled the air.

Fenn's head shot to the right, then to the left, then straight up.

A beautiful woman watched him from the treetops. Her hair, long and flowing in elegant loops over her shoulders and done up in the back in a loose ponytail, was a dark, burnt umber. Pale horns rose from scaly arches above her forehead. Her massive golden eyes contained slender slit pupils that watched him with keen interest, and her...

... her lower body, he noted, quickly looking away from those eyes and dodging past barely-covered curves, tapered into a massive, ponderous serpent's tail, covered in millions of sandy-brown keratin scales overlapping more tightly than the plates of fairy mail.

Pale sky-blue lips curved upward in a smile. At the tip of her slowly uncoiling tail, a large winding rattle flicked and vibrated.

She was smaller than he'd heard lamias could be. Her coils were now emerging from the sands, allowing him to see they were wound around the trunk of the largest juniper in the grove. She'd been sprawled upon one of the low-hanging branches, apparently sleeping. He just hadn't noticed because her scales blended in so well with the bark—and her translucent blue wrap-over top, embroidered with delicate scale patterns, blended in with the clusters of blue berries hanging from the branches everywhere.

Fenn stumbled to his feet and hurried several paces back. His heart was racing. He fumbled for his hood and lowered it, bowing his head slightly. “S-Sorry, Miss, ah—I didn't see you, I didn't—”

“Miss?” The lamia giggled. The rattling grew louder as her coils continued to unspool from around the tree trunk. “Oh, I'm no Miss. No formalitiesss needed, in fact. You can call me Talisssme.” The name spilled from her forked tongue soft and indulgent as a kiss. “But who might you be, traveler?”

Fenn swallowed. Keeping his gaze firmly on his feet, he said, “My name's Fenn, Son of Hinnec. I'm very sorry to have intruded, M—Talisme.”

“Why are you bowing your head? I'm no goddess, sweet treat.” Talisme laughed. Her coils rattled.

“It's... well, they say the eyes of a lamia can be frightfully hypnotic, Talisme.” Fenn felt instinctively in his gut that he must not show fear here. It was like how you never ran from a catamount. He kept his voice level and his eyes lowered.

Talisme was silent for a moment. “Well, that's nothing to fuss over. I'm a sidewinder, Fenn. You see how small I am?”

“You're still... not exactly unimpressive, Talisme.” Fenn flushed, realizing how that sounded. “I-I mean, you're still... a sight bigger than I, are you? What with the tail…”

“Mm. But the venom in my eyes is much weaker.” Talisme suddenly plunged down, catching his gaze before he could react. Her eyes sparkled like campfire coals. “You see?”

Fenn blinked rapidly. He looked away quickly, then, after a moment, looked back.

Her eyes were spiraling, but... the swirls were subtle. They were a gentle mix of golds and honey-reds, and the spiraling was so slow, one wouldn't even notice at a distant glance, even with how big her eyes were.

They were pretty, but... he felt no especially strong draw to stare. At least not yet.

And she was small by lamia standards. Not too small to wrap someone up, but she wasn't actually that much thicker than an ordinary anaconda snake.

His shoulders relaxed slightly, though he still took a firm step back. If he could safely keep an eye on where her gaze was pointed, that'd probably be for the best. It might help him anticipate a lunge. “Right. You're right, Mi—Talisme.”

“I'm always right.” Talisme smirked. “Gods of wind, though, were you afraid of me just now?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I've just... never met a sidewinder lamia before. How do you...?”

Talisme finished unspooling from the tree, and now she rose upright before him, her serpentine lower body trailing after her in a languid S-shape. She gave a leisurely stretch, and Fenn's paths of thought hit the side of a mountain.

Talisme was short and slender—as a human, she'd probably be no taller than five feet—but 'slight' did not feel like the right word for her. Her figure was taut and wiry, but that top visibly strained to contain—and only barely concealed—the absurd curves of her figure.

The stretch was slow and sensual, punctuated with soft, heavy breaths, as if every little pop and crack gave her almost sexual pleasure. He felt like he shouldn’t be staring.

Talisme straightened and smiled at him. Her coils undulated and slithered to and fro, and she bobbed to the side, her tail leaving faint, familiar tracks in the sand. Whenever she bobbed, her tail rattled, creating almost a music to her movements.

“There's no need to pretend you're not ssscared.” She giggled. “Most intelligent thingsss are. It'sss jussst inssstinctive.” Her whole sinuous body twisted and swayed as she slithered farther to the side, sidewinding in a lazy circle around him. “I'm a sssnake, and you're a prey animal. Sssimple.”

Fenn licked his lips. “Humans are... predators, too, you know.”

“Really?” She cocked her head thoughtfully. “But they're sssooo… sssoft.”

Talisme looked very soft, too. Fenn didn't say that.

“Anyways,” he managed, “you don't, ah, eat humans, so it... doesn't really matter.”

“Of course not.” Talisme laughed. “Well, at least, not in the way you mean.”

“What?”

“Human companionship is sssimply delectable to me,” she purred. Her hips swayed slowly, and the sibilant rattle matched her rhythm. “And when it comesss to that, you know, I can be quite the glutton.”

Her breasts bounced back in forth in time with the sensual dance. She smiled at him coyly. With those glittering eyes, she could have been looking at a mouse.

“O-Oh, really?” he squeaked. He slowly rotated to keep her in front of him.

“Oh, yesss,” Talisme cooed. “You're jussst sssooo… cute~! I love the little noisesss your kind make, and they form such charming conversssation. Well, when they can think of anything to sssay, anyway.”

“R-Right.” Fenn glanced behind him. He just wanted to be sure he had an escape route. But no sooner had his head turned than Talisme was slithering to block the way, breasts jiggling and squishing together as the rattle chimed. “W-Well, I guess that's... it's good you don't have the eyes, then.”

“Mm?” Her smile widened. Her hands ran down her sides as her hips swung to and fro. To and fro. Such graceful, elegant motions. “Oh, you mean ssso my guessstss don't become too hypnotized to think to run?~”

“R-Right.” Talisme's whole body moved like something fluid, something… serpentine. Her dance was mesmerizing. The way she swung to one side, flexing her whole body, then the other, matching the hiss of the rattle…

Fenn realized he was swaying a little to match her and quickly snapped back upright.

Talisme seemed extremely amused by this, to his embarrassment. “I imagine a sssweet boy like you would be easy pickingsss otherwise,” she cooed, with a slow, sensual swing of her hips. “Wouldn't he?”

“Y-Yeah.” Fenn flushed. “I—I mean—”

“Hypnotized. Entranced. Too ssspellbound, even, to notice my coilsss circling around, sinking in tighter and tighter~”

Fenn glanced down reflexively and immediately felt embarrassed. Of course there was nothing there. Talisme was just teasing him, goading him.

“Captivated,” her voice purred, suddenly very close—and behind him.

He spun around. She smiled sweetly at him, eyes twinkling with glee.

Fenn swallowed. “I should... I should go.” He took a step back, then another. Run. Run now. “Thank you for the use of your, um, trees, but it's a long road, and...”

Talisme's dance hadn’t stopped. The rattle continued to chime as her coils slithered through the sands. He had to turn to keep the lamia’s intoxicating body in his vision, to watch as she circled around him, coming to loom across his attempted escape route.

His heart started to race.

“And I,” Talisme hissed, “do sssooo love a captive audience.”

His mouth was dry. He took a step back in the other direction. “I. I—”

“I don't need a pretty gaze, sssilly treat.” Talisme’s hands ran down her sides, fingers tracing the indulgent swell of her hips, and then back up, rising to grope and fondle those big, barely-concealed tits, making them jiggle and bounce together as her whole body swayed back and forth... back and forth...

And, he realized, dizzy as he turned yet again, she'd danced right behind him again, blocking his path once more.

It was just psychological, he told himself. He wasn't cornered. Her coils weren't long enough to corner him. He just had to... run...

“People ssseem to fall under my sssway juuussst fine without one,” Talisme laughed, her fingers digging into her tits and kneading them, squishing them together as her hips grinded against the air. Back and forth she swayed, back and forth, circling him, circling closer and closer, swaying, circling, spiraling in...

“I, um...” Fenn's lips remained half-parted, but he couldn’t quite remember what he'd been about to say. He felt himself swaying in time, lost in the dance. Talisme’s whole figure was so… erotic, so enticing…

“That'sss right,” Talisme hissed with a sharp, predatory grin. Her body writhed in hypnotic rhythm, matching the lazy chime of the rattle. She was sidewinding closer and closer... “Thisss is how it alwayssss ssseemss to wind up when I find pretty prey like you~”

Fenn felt fear fluttering in his heart. It wasn’t the useful kind of fear, the kind that would compel him to run. It was intoxicating. A distant, erotic thrill that froze him in place and made his heart race.

He watched her hands slide under her tits and bounce them. Up and down. Up and down. So jiggly, so soft.

He watched her hips swing from left to right. Left to right. Swinging in languid circles.

Circling.

Closer... closer...

“Good prey,” Talisme whispered, much too close now. “There'sss my little treat.” She groped her tits wantonly, lifting them up before letting them fall, giggling at his hopeless gasp. She caressed her sides, hands pressing in to accentuate her hourglass waist. Her voice sent shivers through his body. He felt a nice coolness around his hips, a pleasant, soothing… pressure. “Sssuch a good boy.

“But... but I...”

Distantly, Fenn realized he hadn't looked down in a while. Wasn’t he… supposed to?

“Ssshh.” Talisme put a finger to his lips, then pushed his chin down with a fingertip, guiding him, forcing him, reminding him to stare at her bouncing tits and swinging hips and soft, breathtaking body as it danced to the rhythm of that rattle... “Let'sss wind down now, pet.”

The pressure increased, then started to spread out, winding slowly down his ankles and up his stomach. Slithering. Coiling.

Her hips swung. He stared.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

Her tits bounced. He drooled.

Up and... down...

“Look at you,” she said silkily. “Utterly enthralled. I didn't need my eyesss at all, now, did I?”

“I... n-need...”

The pressure rose up to his shoulders, and his arms were suddenly bound to his sides. He was helpless. He felt a strange weightlessness, as if he was rising into the air, but Talisme was only getting closer, breasts bouncing, hips swaying, and surely it didn't matter...

She tipped his chin up again and smiled down at him. Her eyes sparkled. So beautiful. Such slow, subtle, intoxicating swirls.

“Good little pleasure-pet,” she said silkily, and pulled him in for a kiss.

Her plump, luscious lips met his, already parted, and her forked tongue slid into his mouth without resistance. The pressure around him seemed to undulate, massaging all the tension, all the strength, all the fight from his muscles. Her kiss felt like it was doing that to his mind. She seemed to moan into him, lips smacking wetly, tongue encircling his. He moaned back, whimpering, bucking, wriggling like captured prey.

There was nowhere else to look now. Nowhere but her eyes.

And her eyes weren’t so powerful at all. They couldn’t hold anyone on their own. They couldn’t captivate someone long enough for their effects to really sink in, to really pull someone’s mind away and make it hers.

Only Fenn couldn't look away.

Her eyes pulsed. Slow, so slow, so subtle, but inescapable, deep, subtle spirals swirling deeper and deeper and deeper as her lips broke from his, then went in for a deeper kiss, her moans filling his head, her tongue capturing his again, her lips smacking. Her coils pulsed and wound around him, tightening until he had truly no hope of escape, he was her prey, he was hers...

Talisme pulled back with a wet pop and smiled at him. “You like that, sssilly boy~?” she murmured, running her fingers through his hair.

Fenn drooled and squirmed helplessly, unable to form words as he stared worshipfully at this perfect, gorgeous, irresistible goddess that had ensnared him. He nodded stupidly.

Talisme smiled. “Good boy.”

She gently pushed his head to the side and moved in to kiss his neck. “Now, let's get you nice and marked for me, my ssswweet little thrall~”

Her lips smacked wetly, indulgently against the sensitive crook of his neck, and he mewled.

He barely even felt the little prick of her fangs.

She broke away. He heard her giggle right in his ear.

“There,” she said sweetly. “Now there can be no misstaking you being all mine. And you’re going to love what my venom does to you, aren’t you, my little prey? How good everything is going to feel from now on~?”

“Y-Yesh… Goddesss,” he heard himself slur.

And the lamia laughed. She pulled back and smiled at him, patting his cheek. He smiled shyly back at her. He couldn’t remember why he’d been so afraid earlier. Talisme was going to take such good care of him now.

“Hm,” she murmured. She patted him on the head. “I sssuppose I don’t mind the honorificsss after all. I really can’t sssay no to you, pet.”

Her coils pulsed, and he moaned in mindless bliss.

“Goodnesss,” he heard her whisper, “I do sssooo love it when prey doesn’t even try to run~”