Day 3

The last of Moffitt's suitcases and boxes had been unpacked. The house wasn't quite perfect yet, but it would do for now. After setting a row of books on a shelf in the parlor, he sat down on the couch facing a large window that overlooked the area of land cleared for his future stable. It was late at night, and he hadn't had dinner or his tea. He didn't want to stop just yet, as it ran the risk of plunging him into his thoughts.

"Are you alright, dear?" Anah asked as she slithered down the pair of steps into the room. "It really is time for you to stop for the night."

Thank goodness I'm not completely alone. "I know," Moffitt replied. "I'm just… taking all this in."

"It is a nice little house," Anah said, smiling. "I am glad we got it." Her smile faded. "The circumstances could be a bit better."

Moffitt nodded. "Well, if Mother wasn't going to tolerate you, I… I'm not willing to sit by and deal with that." He sighed. "I don't regret telling her and Father about you, or… about me."

"I could sense that was not easy for you, dear."

"No, it wasn't, and I doubt it was easy for them to hear. They lost one son, and the other has come back a different person. I don't know what's worse." Moffitt doubted he would ever forget the expressions on his parents' faces when he told them what he had learned about himself in North Africa, along with showing them the proof with Anah. His father was fascinated, if a bit surprised, but his mother was outright stunned, and a little disgusted. She felt bad about being disgusted, but still expressed concern about how safe Anah was. Oddly enough, Anah took this better than Moffitt, who wondered if his mother thought he wasn't safe to be around anymore. It culminated in Moffitt making the decision that he needed to find his own home. He had remained with his parents through his schooling at Cambridge, graduating just before the war started. He was already planning to move out, but only after having taken some time to rest. Now, he had a home, he had a job at the university, but all that equated to stability. His happiness was another story.

Anah climbed up onto the couch. She first got on Moffitt's lap, then crawled up to his shoulders to stroke his cheeks with her tail. "It was a bit of a shock, yes, but it is not something that can be changed." She nuzzled his chin. "How about you get a shower and I will make a light dinner for you? You really should eat something."

"Considering you won't stop asking until I give in, alright." Moffitt stood, and placed the cobra on the kitchen counter before going into the bedroom. He stared at the bed for a moment. No one's going to want to marry me when they find out I'm a snake whisperer. Why did I get a bed large enough for two? Anah doesn't need that much space. I do sprawl out quite a bit sometimes. That's why. Still… Moffitt sighed before getting his nightclothes out of a dresser drawer. He looked around the room, glad that this space was all his, but he knew it would take some time to get used to.

Several months had passed since the Second World War ended, but everywhere Moffitt went, if he was in uniform, he was being thanked and praised. He tried to take it graciously, but he didn't feel he deserved it. As time went on, he was beginning to feel something was deeply wrong. More often than not, nights were plagued were horrific dreams depicting the moments throughout the war when he was trapped, injured, or tortured. Occasionally, he relived the day he learned of his younger brother's death, relived senselessly killing two Germans who had nothing to do with Michael's demise, and relived trying to take control of every venomous snake he could sense to use them to kill every guard in the camp that he and the rest of the Rat Patrol were supposed to be infiltrating. He wasn't sure what was worse—seeing the monsters he fought, or seeing himself becoming one.

That combined with his mother's hesitance to trust Anah were the reasons Moffitt decided he was ready to get his own place sooner than he initially planned. He spent several days searching the countryside around Cambridge until finding a lovely little single-story house with vast expanses of land—perfect for horses. After he and his father took care of the expenses, Moffitt moved in. His parents were kind enough to help, and they left just a few hours before. That was alright. Moffitt was content with finishing the move-in with Anah.

As Moffitt undressed in front of the bathroom mirror, he took notice of the numerous scars that had adorned his body since the start of the war, along with the drastic loss of weight from his already far too thin frame. The largest scar present was just under the left side of his ribcage. Just before acquiring Anah, he had been shot during an ambush on a German column, resulting in an emergency removal of his spleen after he was captured falling off his jeep. The German surgeons had done the best they could with closing both the wound and the incisions they had to make in order to cut the destroyed organ out, but the damage was done. Even with Anah's healing powers within the temple she had been sealed in, the wound became a scar, a permanent reminder of his experience. It didn't hurt anymore. Not physically. Mentally was another story.

He had been struck on the head a few times. Punched in the face. Punched in the stomach. Kicked while on the ground. Shot and nearly bled to death. The list went on. Being here, in a quiet, peaceful place, should have been reassuring. Instead, he was nervous. He reassured himself that it was only him and Anah now. It would only ever be him and Anah.

Moffitt took a long shower, enjoying the warm water. As it was summer and supposed to be hot for the next week or so, he decided to forego a shirt and would sleep in his shorts. He went out to the kitchen to find Anah humming to herself while putting the finishing touches on a generous helping of fish and chips. A cup of herbal tea was waiting on the table, with a small plate of chocolate biscuits to accompany it. Moffitt waited until Anah had set her pan down before giving her a gentle scratch behind her head. "Thanks."

"You are most welcome, dear. Sit. Enjoy your tea, and eat as much as you like." Anah slithered over to the table once Moffitt was served, and climbed up to his shoulders. She explored him for a second before settling down and flicking her tongue out in long strokes.

At one point, Moffitt felt the little tines of the snake's tongue tickling his chest and shoulders. "Anah," he gently moved her head with his hand, "Not while I'm eating."

"You do smell good, dear," Anah said.

"Of course. You picked out all my soap." Moffitt glanced at Anah, feeling bad for telling her to stop.

"Are you alright?" the cobra asked.

"I'm exhausted."

"I had a feeling. You do not have to rush yourself. Take your time. Relax. I know this is a strange place now, but it will feel like home in good time." Anah sighed. "This is the type of thing that kept me going each day in that temple. The promise of being somewhere cozy. I like this place."

"So do I." Moffitt looked around, letting out a breath. "I'll get used to it."

"I think you will feel better in the morning, dear. It will be alright."

After finishing his dinner, Moffitt sat out in the parlor with his tea and biscuits. The moon had risen higher, and Moffitt was realizing that it was nice to have that house all to himself. He didn't have to worry about waking or bothering anyone, like he had while living with his parents. He tried to focus on the little joys, but the horrors from the war were attempting to creep back in. When he was done with his tea, he left the cup and dish by the sink, planning to worry about it in the morning, then went to bed.

Moonlight poured through the window, which had been opened slightly to let the breeze in. The soothing chirping of crickets filled the room. Moffitt pulled back the covers before getting in bed. Anah happily slithered in with him, and took her place on his pillow, resting her head on top of his. She nuzzled him before saying, "Everything will be alright. Talk to me, dear, what is bothering you?"

"Just wondering what awful things I'm going to see in my dreams tonight," Moffitt said.

Anah was quiet for a moment. "Whatever happens tonight, or tomorrow night, I will be here. Always. Things might seem daunting now, but you are not alone. Keeping everything bottled up will not help."

"I know. My thoughts are a bit jumbled right now."

"Get some sleep, dear." Anah's voice dropped to a whisper. "Just rest. Take everything little by little, step by step. Think about everything we have yet to accomplish. I am most looking forward to making this house a home."

Moffitt weakly smirked. "Can I borrow some of that excitement?"

"I wish I could give you some. Rest, dear. We will worry about what is left to be done tomorrow."