A year ago, a white snake orc I knew passed away. He was unruly and beautiful, like a ball of snow that could not be grasped, coming and going freely. I am always reluctant to throw away the little nest he once stayed in. It is empty, but I always hold a trace of hope, as if he will come back one day. Until that day, I met a black snake orc at the orc rescue station on the corner of the street. He is very timid, but extremely docile. At this moment, he is huddled tightly on the soft cushion in the corner, his thin shoulders are shaking slightly, and his eyes are full of timidity. I squatted down gently and lowered my voice, trying to see his appearance clearly, but he was so frightened that he shrank even tighter, even burying his head into his body.
