Chapter 40
He was tall and strong for a nine-year-old kid, but Ciaran couldn’t handle the sight of that cobra, reeling up from the ground, watching him, and hissing. He was afraid of snakes. And the way he normally handled that fear was by confronting it. To deal with his ophidiophobia, Ciaran had studied snakes—their habitat, their behavior, and how to kill them. He knew cobras shouldn’t reside in the peaceful French countryside. Admittedly, it was a rather thick and mysterious bush that he had convinced his cousin George to explore—this was no meadow of sunflowers. But finding a cobra here should still be impossible.
“It’s a cobra, George. Give me the shovel.”
George was three years older than Ciaran and much taller. He jumped onto a large rock and reached his hand down for Ciaran. “I
