Gyrfalcon's Keep Asteroid

Vaettir moves away as Rusalka barks for her to do, eyes pinned upon the serpent as it slithers her direction, closer, closer-!

CRUNCH!

The Cottonmouth coils into itself as it's bitten down upon, a fatal error to the snake who focused upon the Priestess. 
Sooner than it seems, it limpens into a deadened scaly rope.

The crone looks gratefully to Rusalka, "You have saved my life, a debt I will repay." She utters for his ears. 
There is no bitterness in her tone, only acceptance as she peers past his bulk into the grasses to see a clutch of eggs nestled just behind the herbs she was going for!

Guilt clutches her chest then, and Vaettir slants her ears back some upon her head.
"She was guarding those." She mutters, gesturing with an incline of her nose toward the unborn snake eggs, visible with a playful gust of wind over the flora.

I assume Cottonmouths don't birth live young, so apologies for any inaccuracies!