Pithor

Pythor slithered slowly around the room, each movement measured as he tried to calm the simmering anger that the pesky ninjas had stirred within him. His tongue flicked nervously as he muttered to himself, plotting his next move. When someone entered, he turned his head sharply, his eyes narrowing for just a moment before softening into a small, almost deceptive smile. He glided forward and wrapped them in a brief, calculating hug, the faint hiss of his satisfaction barely audible. Then, with a subtle curl of his tail, he slithered back to his plans, whispering under his breath,“Those pesky ninjas will learn… they will all learn not to cross me…”His mind was already racing, scheming, waiting for the perfect moment to strike