Neverwinter Forest night of the hunter

Five's gaze did not raise from the snake as it's head turned in his direction and it's attention became effectively transferred from the woman to him. It's rattle rose and it vibrated, giving it's warning with nothing short of intent. Moss green eyes locked studiously upon the serpent as it faced him, beady black eyes like abysses. There was no honor in an easy death, but surely there was some sort of honor in protecting another with his life. Could the Gods, previously so silent for him, find honor in that? It had been beaten into him by the Amazon women that the only honor for a slave was dying in the arena as a Gladiator. Sourly, Five wished that Quetzalcoatl was there (at a safe distance of course) so that she might see what he thought of her supposed gift. Freedom. Such a word was a waste of breath upon him. He had not asked to be taken as a small child and sold to the tribe of Coatl's Rise, and in an ironic turn of events he had not been asked to be set free. He had been content to live and die by the sword, to be the Queen's champion until he, himself, was defeated. He had been content to give her strong daughters as a prize for his victory as her season neared; happy even. The Gods had wanted to shit upon him, he thought, and so they had. Perhaps slaves were never meant to be happy. 

Despite that protecting the stranger was certainly honorable, she was now backed out of harm's way and to throw himself into the reach of the serpent's fangs was cowardly. It was a coward's death, and Five was no coward. Slowly, the Gladiator backed away from the serpent, keeping his eyes locked upon it to see if it would follow. It did not, and when he felt that he'd reached a safe distance, Five made towards the stranger, giving the serpent a wide birth. “Are you alright?” He inquired.