Then, a rustle in the sawgrass. Crockett, a grizzled man with a snake tattoo on his neck, waded into view. He didn’t say a word. He just dropped to his knees beside her, grabbed the python’s tail, and began to carefully unwind it.
Then she heard it. A deep, ominous hiss followed by the thrash of heavy coils. brittany borges guardians of the glades bikini
Brittany had no choice. She lunged.
Crockett handed her a towel. “You know,” he said, a rare grin cracking his weathered face, “most folks wear a little more armor to wrestle a fourteen-foot snake.” Then, a rustle in the sawgrass
She slipped into the bikini, tied her dark hair back into a tight braid, and slid the narrow kayak into the water. The moment she pushed off, the world closed in. Towering cypress trees draped in Spanish moss blocked the sun, casting dappled shadows on the water. The air was thick, buzzing with dragonflies and the distant, prehistoric bellow of an alligator. He just dropped to his knees beside her,
Brittany peeled off her usual field gear—the thick gloves, the heavy cargo pants, the reinforced boots. She tucked a compact satellite phone, a multi-tool, and a small first-aid kit into a dry bag. For clothing, she opted for a high-SPF rash guard and a pair of durable, quick-drying shorts. But as she looked at her reflection in the side mirror of the truck, she paused. Her typical swimsuit was back at the base. The only thing clean in her go-bag was a bright turquoise bikini she’d thrown in for a rare day off. She shrugged. Function over fashion—or in this case, function with a side of tropical flair.
An hour later, the three pythons were safely bagged and tagged. Brittany sat on the front of the airboat, rinsing the mud off her legs with a water bottle. The turquoise bikini was now more brown than blue.