And beside him, half-coiled and unmistakable in its red, yellow, and black bands, lay a snake—its head crushed beneath Ranger’s paw. Emily’s breath caught. He hadn’t attacked Lily. He had thrown himself between her and the snake. He had shoved her out of its path. He had taken the bite meant for her.
A sickening wave of guilt crashed over her so hard she swayed. “Ranger,” she whispered, sinking to her knees, her free hand trembling as she reached toward him. He had saved her daughter. And now he was dying for it.
Ranger’s breathing was getting worse — fast, uneven, bubbling at the edges. His leg was swelling so quickly it hardly looked like a leg anymore. Emily’s stomach dropped. “Oh God… Ranger…” she whispered, voice cracking.
Lily whimpered from the grass, frightened but conscious, reaching for her mother with shaking hands. Emily scooped her up and held her tight, kissing the top of her head as relief and panic tangled in her chest.