night python

In the early hours of the morning, before dawn, I was sleeping in a dormitory with around twenty others. My eyes closed, I sensed something move above me and heard soft sniffing near my face - something breathing in my scent. I knew without a doubt it was a python, and I instinctively knew exactly where it was and what I should do. Without moving any other part of my body, I stabbed my right arm into the air and gripped the snake around its throat below its head, so it could not swing back and bite me. I opened my eyes and stood up in the darkness, taking hold of the snake's tail in my left hand. Once secured, I moved through the grid of beds to the door and quietly let myself out, not wanting to wake the others. Outside, the sky was slowly changing to grey and I could see fields before me. I did not want to harm the python, but neither was I comfortable with the situation. I desperately wanted to find someone who knew what to do, how to handle the animal and relocate it somewhere far from me. It was heavy, so - still with its throat in my right hand, its tail in my left - I draped its long body over my shoulders and set off on foot. I could see a group of Indigenous people ahead, gathering for a dawn meeting, and thought they may be able to advise me. As I approached, a dear friend entered the field, standing tall on the path between me and the group of people. When she saw me, she went to hug me and seemed not to see the snake until I stopped her and held it up to show her. Rather than responding with fright, she laid a gentle hand on its head. I noticed her hand was older now, more weathered, but still I thought it beautiful. I knew she could not take the python from me; even so, I felt comforted by her presence. The snake began to struggle so I tightened my grip. Its emerald-green, diamond-patterned body writhed and it managed to push its head back far enough to sink its fangs a little way into the back of my hand. I wondered if it were poisonous.