Heat blossomed all along Kolino’s back as he slid against the ground. He didn’t even have time to try to escape before a tail, thick with power, wrapped around his abdomen and began squeezing the life out of him. Eyes nearly falling from his head, the young boy could do nothing but flail his own tail in retaliation.

No amount of effort could keep his head from nearing the ground. “Yield! Mercy!” The shame of crying resignation instead of accepting a natural defeat did little more than send a small wave through his body. But the pressure left him just before his ribs could splinter.

Naga Kubin hissed, his head shaking as he gathered his tail. “Why did you give up boy?”

Kolino looked up to his father, his expression one of disbelief. “You were going to break my ribs!” He exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at the anthromo slithering a few feet in front of him.

Arms crossed, the Grand Naga shrugged. “And? Is that all?” With no other words to say, Kolino decided that it would be best to keep his mouth shut. Recently, his father has found it increasingly easy to get angry with him. He didn’t want to incite another sparring match. “Is my son really so weak as to tap out at the first signs of a struggle?” Kolino didn’t say that this was not his first struggle.

His father had dropped him onto his head not ten minutes prior, the force of it nearly breaking his neck. “I am not weak!” The boy yelled, pulling himself up from his beaten position. Kubin beat on his chest, face lighting up at the sight of his son rising. There was something wicked in his face. The curve of his lips paired with the tilt of his sharp brows made his statue appear villainous.

Though it was true that Kolino wasn’t weak, he, like every creature, had a breaking point. And it had been reached. Before he could even straighten his spine, the boy cringed and folded in on himself, his breath heavy and his heart torn by his body’s lack of cooperation. He wanted to show his father his strength, instead, he had proved the initial assessment right.

His father side-eyed him before releasing a sigh. “I suppose this is enough for today.” He voiced.

Just before he could leave the boy to his own devices, Kolino brought to light a question that he has had stored for quite some time. “Why don’t we just use swords, like the humans?” Though he had never seen one in person, Kolino had read of them. With every visit to the mortal realm, his father brought back one book and one painting, each of which he was only allowed to keep for three days before they were burned and tossed back through the gates.

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The paintings featured men on horseback, their swords drawn to meet with the men rushing on bare feet. From what Kolino had read, the tools were quite deadly. His father paused, his features hardening beneath the soft fluttering of firelight. “Look at me, boy.” Kolino sat up on his elbows and knew that he had angered the man. “Do I look human to you?”

The Grand Naga was a creature of twenty-six feet. The portion of his body that was covered with flesh was a brown so dark that he could blend easily with the wet earth when hunting. Dull yellow chevrons followed the path from his stomach down to the very tip of his tail. The hair on his head was a dreaded waterfall that hooded his features.

Along his chest and jaw was a speckling of scales that matched the ones of his tail. When he hissed, his bottom jaw stretched, and his top lip split to reveal his fangs, each half an inch long.

No.

No, his father did not look human. With eyes cast down, Kolino shook his head. Tail stretching, Kubin encircled his son. “Do not grow envy or attachment to the humans or their things, Kolino. Or you will never go through that gate.”

Curiosity clouded his judgment, forcing his mouth to move, “If I should not grow attachment, then why do we use other human things? Ma wears their clothes, the den uses their candles, and you-” He pauses, his eyes traveling to his father’s hand. “You wear their jewelery.”

“That is not the same.”

A throat was cleared. Both pairs of eyes, nearly identical, fell to the entrance of their sparring arena. Ginin Balaski leaned on a darkened stone column, one of her fingers tracing the smoothed edge. She looked first to Kubin, her eyes lingering, saying words that she would not dare to speak aloud. Then they fell to her son. Her eyes took note of every bruise, every scrape and bite mark, before her mouth opened to speak. “Come to lunch, little prins.”

His mother’s voice was soft, a strange contrast to her harsh features. With dark skin, severe cheekbones, and defined lips, his mother reminded him more of a bird than a snake at times. Though her golden hair and honey eyes did help to offset all her sharp angles.

Kolino rose fully, his eyes darting between his parents, unsure of what he should really do. Her tongue clicked. “Come, now.” She held out her hand, and Kolino went for it. “We will get you patched up after you have something in your belly.” Her hand rested on his head, smoothing his curls.

Kolino missed the look that she threw his father, but it was a good thing that he did.