They live in a garden, and it's perfect. He tells her it is, because she's young, and she can't tell. He tells her it is their garden, theirs alone, and they'll keep it like that forever. He has few rules; serve him; assist him; do not touch the fruit. And she complies. She likes the grey tom because he's everything she's ever known.

Familiarity is a comfort, but it's an old one.

And though she likes him, she doesn't understand his rules. There is an archaic fruit tree at the end of their garden, withered and tanned by a sun that is only ever pleasant in its heat. Perhaps it's age, the reason it only ever bears one rose-red berry, or maybe it's supposed to be kind of symbolic, in a way she doesn't yet understand. Smokefang glares at her, when she takes one step too close to the ancient tree, drawn by the soft glint of sunlight off ruby skin. When he pulls her back, as he always does- and assures her, always will- and reminds her of the third rule, how simply easy it is to follow it.

But she can't listen to him, because it's just a tree. Just a berry, smaller than her paw, with a cardinal gleaming wink. So she goes to it one day, leaving Smokefang napping in the sunlight. She reaches the foot of the tree, and suddenly, there's a face in front of her own. Slim, pale and reptilian, she recoils. The snake flicks its tongue at her, eyeing her with one bright blue eye.

"Pretty," the snake hisses, "aren't we?"

"Um," she says, backing up another step. "Sorry, I was just…"

"Just about to breaking the rules?"

Stubbornly, she says, "No. I'm allowed to look."

The serpent does something with its thin tongue and she realizes it's laughing. At her.

"Of course," it agrees, winding further down its perch; they're nose-to-nose- or whatever it is that snakes have on the ends of their faces, she supposes. She flicks her gaze upwards- its scaled tail is curled around the branch that holds the berry, the one that so attracts her. With its every movement, it drops lower, until she could touch it with her tail if she wants to.
"You can taste, it too. Why follow the rules?"

She doesn't say it, but he knows. Because the grey tom at the end of the garden has dictated she shouldn't.

"There's more to life than rules, dear heart," the snake persists. "There's more to life than a garden."

Something snaps above her head, and the berry falls to the ground at her feet.

"Eat it," he says, mouth somewhere close to her ear. "It it will show you a world, dear one, a world without gardens."

"Sablefrost." His voice is a sharp crack, a snap that makes her want to wince. He's striding towards her, regarding the serpent in cold contempt.

"Let me show you the world." The serpent's voice is a lilt, a lullaby, a smooth compulsion. She bends and sweeps the berry into her mouth.

And the garden is gone.

a drabble? pfft, what's that?

basically a garden of eden thing. replaced the apple with a berry, it's more fitting. i think we all know who the snake is.