They call her End. Sometimes Lightning or Devil’s Biter.
There were once two, but now only one ancient anaconda roams Brazil. No person dares to venture forth into the Amazon at night or even far in the forest at day with her meandering through the waters and trees. Too many times there were mortalities, and all unforgotten.
Tonight, a common hunter steps out into the wet forest with a long knife and the courage only a lunatic could uphold. If he rids of the End then the Amazon will be free.
Trudging through the shallow swamp, the hunter holds his knife at the ready. He does not think about who will be quicker, but at the back of his mind, he already knows. A few times he hears rustling portentously behind the trees, or slithers between his legs ready to bite. Though all are deceiving, he believes the End is tantalizing him with her malicious ways.
After hours of unaccomplished pursuit, the hunter turns back, cursing himself for trying. But out of the corner of his eye, he sees five large white eggs at the side of the river. They are perfectly round and shine ominously in the moonlight.
The hunter scampers over with exhilaration. Without a second thought, he takes each imminent life and smashes it against a tree until each egg is decorated in cracks with no chance of existence. Devil’s Biter will not come to her nest until dawn, with no chance of vengeance on the hunter.
The job is done.
The hunter headed back to the village, pleased with himself. He had done it; he had slain the remnants of End.
End is old now, with no chance of leaving her vestige behind in the world. With none to look after, she will end herself as her name suggests.
The hunter knows the village will rejoice; they will be free from the End in a matter of days.
Five innocent lives obliterated out of dozens. Dozens spared out of millions.