monstrousromantic

[monstrousromantic]

The Princess and the Spider - II

Words - 4100

           When Maeve woke the second time, she found that she felt somewhat better. She made to stand up but quickly stopped. Not only was she sore, but she was still incredibly naked. She blinked, trying to remember what had happened. She recalled the bear and the cliff but after that there wasn’t much. She thought she vaguely recalled food and a woman. The woman who had saved her. She did her best to take in the rest of her surroundings, but the fire only illuminated so much.  A glint caught her eye from the corner. Her armor. The metal ornaments on the leather glittered in the light of the fire and in that moment, Maeve found them infinitely more lovely than the finest gems in her father’s treasury. She did not like being in a strange place with no clothes, especially since the place was a cave. Taking one more glance around, ensuring her “guardian” truly was absent, she dropped the silk and made a beeline for her things.

           However, as her fingers gripped the armor, she found something to be deeply wrong. Why were the leather laces on the floor and not attached as they should have been? As she fumbled with the pieces, a frown stealing her face, a voice sounded from the entrance of the cave.

           “Princess? Oh good! You’re awake!” Sir’vera exclaimed. Maeve gawked. So the spider hadn’t been a fever dream after all. She did her best to maintain a neutral expression as Sir’vera effortlessly dragged a dead deer behind her. “Look what I got for breakfast! Since you’re still sick I’ll turn it into soup. You’re going to need your strength to get better.” She got to hanging the deer up by the entrance in the cave, tying the hooves with her silk as she spoke. She placed a bucket beneath the head, carving a small gash into the neck so that the blood would drain. When she turned, she seemed to be seeking her approval, nodding her head at the deer.

           “That’s a very nice catch.” Maeve said, unsure if that would suffice. Sir’vera beamed.

           “Thank you! But this is correct? This is how humans prepare their meat?” Her jeweled eyes stared down expectantly. Maeve felt her brows furrow. Was this not how Sir’vera normally prepared food? Maybe she just swallows the animals whole. Maeve wasn’t sure that she truly wanted to know, so she staved down her curiosity and simply nodded. She had curled in on herself, protecting what modesty she could, but Sir’vera didn’t seem to notice. The four eyes blinked, and her eyebrows furrowed. She scuttled over to Maeve’s makeshift bed and lifted the discarded blanket.

           “What are you doing?” The princess asked. The silk was draped around her shoulders and atop her head.

           “You must stay warm if you are to get better.” The spider said, a serious tone taking over her normally cheerful voice. She lifted Maeve away from her destroyed armor and plopped her back down on the blankets. “I don’t know very much about your kind, but I know you get sick easy. The widow told me everything I needed to know to save you.”

           “The widow?” Maeve asked, pushing the blanket off her face. Her curiosity outweighed her caution as she stared up at Sir’vera expectantly. She nodded.

           “Yes! She knows all sorts of things about humans. She was able to fill in some blanks for me. To be honest you’re the first I’ve ever seen up close.” She mused. Maeve took a moment to choose her next words carefully.

           “And what do you think of the first human you’ve ever seen?” She asked, as innocuously as possible. To that Sir’vera stilled before turning, a thoughtful look on her face. She came closer, the fur on her leg nearly brushing Maeve’s face as the spider stared her down. Glaring at the wicked talons on her fingers Maeve sat as still as possible as Sir’vera inspected her face. She felt a sharp nail trail down her cheek, beneath her eye, and then her throat. It seemed that spiders didn’t quite understand personal space. Maeve choked down her pride, not sure she wanted to risk offending her hostess.  

           “You’re very pretty.” She said. “You’re not very strong. Frankly, you are incredibly fragile. Honestly, I’m unsure as to how you ended up among the ruling species.” Sir’vera’s eyebrows furrowed. “And I only just now realize that’s likely incredibly rude.”

           “Very,” Maeve couldn’t help but remark, “But I think I understand why you might think that.” Sir’vera had the good graces to look embarrassed. At least, Maeve thought that was embarrassment. It was surprisingly difficult to read four eyes instead of two.

           “Well then you can say a rude thing to me in recompense?” What should have been a statement came out as a question. Maeve wasn’t stupid. As the fire beside her roared and Sir’vera settled on her massive abdomen the princess tried to think of the best way to take advantage of the opportunity that had just been granted to her.

           “I have no idea how to ask without sounding rude, so I supposed this is the time.” She remarked wryly. “What, exactly, are you?” And are you going to eat me? To her relief, Sir’vera laughed.

           “I was wondering when that question would come. I’m just me.” She grinned.

           “You…don’t know?” Maeve asked, unable to help herself. How could she not know what she was? Was she the only one of her kind? She’d said she had a mother, but Maeve noticed the distinct lack of a second spider-woman. Sir’vera’s smile took on a smug tone.

           “It’s not that I don’t know, it’s that the name we have for ourselves doesn’t translate very easily. I suppose you would call us spider-folk.” Her voice was gentle. Maeve hadn’t offended her. While she didn’t necessarily let her guard down, she was able to let herself physically relax for just a moment. She was so sore. Sir’vera spoke again, coaxing her with the promise of more answers to any questions she might have.

           Well I suppose this is the moment of truth. She thought.

           “Are you going to hurt me?” Maeve asked, her voice so soft she momentarily wondered if Sir’vera heard her. The wounded expression on the spider’s face told the princess she had.

           “No. Of course not. Why would you think that?” She asked.

           “You’re clearly a predator of high caliber.” Maeve placated. “You made a point of telling me how fragile I am. I just needed to make sure, I suppose.”

           Sir’vera blinked at her placidly. It seemed that Maeve’s attempt at flattery hadn’t done much. The spider stood, turning her back on the princess. Maeve could see as a pair of smaller legs, almost like knitting needles, pulled silk from the spinnerets.

           “I know I must look frightening to you, all things considered.” She stated. “But I promise, I don’t make it a point to hurt people. Not even humans.”

           With that, Sir’vera fell into silence. Despite Maeve’s attempts, the spider refused to say anything more as she wove her silk into something of use. Maeve sighed, staring at the cave entrance. The stag’s dead eyes stared back.

/*\

           Sir’vera wasn’t surprised to hear the gentle snoring. Maeve had fallen back asleep, likely a good thing, but she was still hurt. She supposed her wording was less than tactful, but still. It was a good thing that the princess had introduced herself as such.

           At least I didn’t have to ask if she was female. She thought. That likely would have brought on a whole other onslaught of misunderstandings.

           Sir’vera picked and pulled at the thread. Sometimes she had to whittle down the silk into smaller strands, being too thick for what she wanted. Right now, blankets for Cora and Tyrath were priority. They’d be showing up any day now and she was behind enough on the favor as is.

           She wove the thread into textile, creating a large duvet in only a matter of hours. She tended to get lost in her weaving when she was upset. Was she right to be upset? She wasn’t sure. As she searched her drawer for the cotton to stuff it with, she faintly registered a small shape lowering itself from the ceiling. The widow again.

           “So, what’s got you in a tizzy?” She asked, “My new husband was concerned but I needed him to catch dinner. What’s wrong?”

           “The princess hurt my feelings.” She confessed. “I don’t think I’m scary! In fact, mother always told me I was the least frightening of my siblings, far too friendly and soft for my own good. Was she right?”

           “Perhaps,” the widow responded, waving a leg, “but try and see things from the human’s perspective. She doesn’t know you, and it’s obvious how different you are from one another. She was brought here by an angry bear and an angrier ocean. Be patient with her. She’s feeling immensely vulnerable right now. Don’t be upset with her for protecting herself.”

           Sir’vera nodded, watching as the widow returned to her web. She berated herself as she finally allowed herself to look back at the sleeping figure by the fire. The widow was right. Maeve just needed time to heal up and get to know her better. That was all. She had been wrong to be offended. That’s what she told herself as she righted the misplaced hairs on Maeve’s forehead, placing them neatly back into the braids she’d woven.

           That was when a terrible stench took her nose, the water droplets on Maeve’s forehead telling her exactly what it was. Yes, the human princess was pretty. Capable of hurting Sir’vera’s feelings after a mere day of shared space. However, that didn’t mean the princess didn’t stink to high heaven.

           It was unlikely that she’d bathed since her trip into the ocean. If that could even be considered a bath. Scrunching up her nose Sir’vera backed away, realizing she had been negligent once again. Shame welled up in her stomach. She’d been messing this up from the moment she plucked Maeve from the water. First with the food and water, and now with the bathing requirements.

           She wondered at what to do. She doubted that Maeve would appreciate being unceremoniously dumped into the water, but she was also hesitant to wake her up. After the fall she’d had she needed rest to fully recover. That was when something caught her attention from the corner of her eye. The deer. She’d completely forgotten about the deer, and the blood had overflowed out of the bucket she’d placed. Four of the carpets she had so painstakingly woven were irreversibly stained a hideous shade of rusted brown.

           Sir’vera had to fight down the tears that were welling up in her eyes. This was such a disaster. Why had she even saved the human in the first place? She wiped at her face, careful not to nick her own skin with her claws.

           No, she thought, no I will not cry. It’s not Maeve’s fault and it’s not my fault either. I’ve never tried to prepare a deer this way before, it’s fine that there was an accident. And it was. Sir’vera had inspected the mess, telling herself to calm down as she observed the bloodstained illustrations. Just like that, she felt the welling tears diminish. She plucked one off the ground and held it up, blinking as she processed what she was seeing. It gave her an idea. Instead of disposing of the squares, she folded them up neatly. Finally, there was a purpose for that empty table just opposite the brazier.

           Yes, everything would be fine. That’s what she told herself as she took the mop from the little closet she’d carved into the rock. She’d get this blood cleaned up and butcher the meat. The widow had told her what parts of the deer humans liked to eat. She’d be fine to save the rest for herself. Besides, it would probably be better to get Maeve to eat before bathing. And so, with an actual plan in mind, Sir’vera got to work. Carefully she sliced through the hide with her talons. Everything would be fine.

/*\

           The third time Maeve awoke was probably the best. Where Sir’vera had been undoubtedly shunning her before, now she was smiling. She was standing next to the fire, a large cauldron sitting within the embers. As Maeve sat up, just as sore as before, she realized that Sir’vera was very studiously stirring a batch of soup. It didn’t smell quite like what the spider had made for her before, but it certainly wasn’t unappetizing. As Maeve looked to the spider questioningly, she smiled.

           “Good morning,” Sir’vera greeted. “You were asleep most of the afternoon. It’s just about nightfall. If you feel up to it, you can have a bath after we eat.”

           “You eat soup?” Maeve asked, startled. She immediately wanted to kick herself. It seemed that Sir’vera had finally gotten herself back into a good mood. Now Maeve just had to spoil it first thing. Why was she so worried about the spider’s feelings anyway? But Sir’vera didn’t pout, instead she laughed.

           “Oh, don’t worry. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I do have some human characteristics. Soup agrees with me just fine.” She assured. “I have a cookbook that some friends of mine traded for a set of blankets. It’s come in quite handy over the years.”

           Maeve, unsure what to say, remained silent as Sir’vera ladled a steaming spoon of soup into a bowl. She offered it up, smiling expectantly. Maeve took it. To her delight, it was just as delicious as the first bowl Sir’vera had given her. She gently sipped at the broth, studying Sir’vera carefully. Her safety had been assured, but then Sir’vera could have been lying. But if she’d been lying, then why bother to keep her alive for so long?

           The simple truth was that Maeve would have to trust the spider for as long as she was still healing. She would need time before making her way back to the castle. She frowned at the thought. Did she really want to go back? Perhaps Sir’vera’s lair would make a nice hiding spot while she decided. Sir’vera seemed to notice.

           “You look upset. Is the soup not good?” Her voice was too calm, too polite. Maeve might have only known her for a day but Sir’vera had not been shy with her personality. In fact, this was something she’d seen in several people, mostly servants, and it made her sad. She was bracing herself for Maeve to say something cruel. The princess shook her head violently, almost instantly regretting it as the dizziness set in.

           “No, no not at all. The soup is wonderful. I was just thinking about something is all.” She assured. Sir’vera visibly relaxed, her face growing inquisitive as the impassive façade faded. She took a few sips from her own bowl before glancing back over.

           “May I ask what you were thinking about?” Her voice was tentative. Maeve shook her head.

           “It’s nothing worth talking about. It’s just…” Maeve couldn’t think of a word, so she made do with the most disgusted sound she could make. She took a deep breath and immediately scrunched her nose. Beneath the smell of soup, something icky lurked. What was it? As she inspected her surroundings, she realized it was coming from her blankets. The smell of sweat permeated the air and she felt her face grow pink.

           Her. The nasty smell was coming from her. She sighed, placing her face into her hand. Sir’vera started, a panicked look crossing her face. Maeve shook her head and waved her off. Sir’vera settled but she still looked concerned.

           “What is it?” She asked softly, her delicate fangs glinting in the firelight as she spoke.

           “Well, can I take that offer of a bath once dinner is finished?” She asked, averting her gaze as she stared into her bowl. She was sore, hungry, thirsty, and now sick and sweaty. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so disgusting. All she wanted was to wash up, put on a fresh chemise, and sleep for a thousand years. At least, that was how she felt about it in that very moment. She could hear the humor in Sir’vera’s voice when she spoke.

           “Of course. There’s an underground hot spring just through that corridor there.” She gestured and Maeve balked. Indeed, there was a large passageway, just beside a stack of shelves. The opening was pitch black, and it was something that Maeve would avoid with a healthy amount of respect had she been alone. She could feel the distress physically wring her stomach. She hadn’t noticed the corridor there the first time she’d awoken, or even the second. Had she really been in such a bad way that she’d been completely oblivious to the gaping opening before her? The potential danger? Sir’vera took the bowl and helped her to stand, letting the blankets fall away. When Maeve went to protest Sir’vera shrugged.

           “We both have the same parts. Well, the same human parts. Nothing to be worried about.” She smiled. Maeve supposed it was true. Though she couldn’t necessarily see the tips of Sir’vera’s breasts, all it would take was a misplaced lock of hair for that to change. At this point, did modesty really matter? Maeve decided it didn’t, so with as much grace as she could muster, she let the spider guide her down the hallway, stark naked.

           Nude or clothed, she was still the princess.

           The hallway was dark, and as each step left her legs aching just that much more Maeve forced herself to persevere. She could faintly feel steam hitting her face, and that was when she realized something vital. Sir’vera could see in the dark much better than she could. She was about to voice her concerns when sparks caught the corner of her eye. Sir’vera had lit a torch, and even in the dimness of the light Maeve couldn’t help but gasp.

           The spring itself was exactly that. A spring. There was a small opening to let out steam and torch smoke, but that wasn’t what had her gasping. As Sir’vera rounded the room, lighting more and more torches, the ceiling began to glow. Maeve wasn’t sure what manner of gem they were, but crystals reflected the light across each other and back down. Three torches had rendered the room as bright as day. She turned to Sir’vera, astounded. She didn’t even have to ask.

           “Spider crystals.” She stated easily. “They come from hardened spider silk.” Maeve whirled, a thousand questions on her lips when Sir’vera waved her off. “Not now. You need to bathe. I didn’t want to be rude but, you do smell quite bad.” She winced sympathetically. Maeve couldn’t help it. She rolled her eyes.

           “Stench is unfortunately something no one can avoid, not even royalty.” She drawled, grumpily taking a step into the spring with Sir’vera’s help.

           Maeve hadn’t realized just how cold she’d been. Despite the sweat and the blankets and the fire, the water had her shivering. Not because it was chilly, the spring was quite warm indeed. It made her notice the cold that sat in her skin, all the way down to her bones. Her feet were finally warming up, and as the water ate away at the cold that even fire couldn’t conquer, she could feel herself sighing. Her muscles relaxed, the soreness fading just enough for her to notice. She faintly registered the sound of Sir’vera’s steps, and lazily watched as she crossed the small pathway to a cupboard.

           Maeve wondered if her senses had suffered in the fall. First the entryway and now this. She wasn’t usually so oblivious as to overlook something as obvious as the wooden vanity set in the far corner of the room. Sir’vera was clearly looking for something, digging around in drawers that wouldn’t quite close and cabinets with slightly uneven handles. Maeve wasn’t exceptionally alarmed, however, until Sir’vera got into the water herself.

           “What are you–?” Maeve was interrupted by a simple raised eyebrow.

           “I don’t sweat as much as you do, but I could also use a bath. I see no reason why we can’t use the hot spring together.” Her voice was stern, clearly unwilling to accept any argument. It was a small thing to sacrifice, Maeve decided. It wasn’t as though she were a man.

           The princess told herself that the blush was the result of the steam.

           Sir’vera handed her a bar. When Maeve inspected it further, she found it smelled like flowers. She glanced over to the side shyly before covertly trying to wash underneath her arms, where the smell had been worst. She hated smelling bad, more than she realized as she washed herself with a stranger sitting in the bath just next to her.

           “I was thinking about what you said earlier,” Sir’vera’s voice was soft as she casually ran the bar of soap down her arm, “and I realize I was being unfair.”

           “How so?” Maeve asked, appropriately startled.

           “You don’t know me, and you are correct. I am technically a predator, though I don’t really think of myself in those terms.” Her voice was firmer than it had been thus far. “You’re hurt and with someone you don’t know. I shouldn’t have been so insensitive. I apologize.”

           When Sir’vera turned to look at her, Maeve found that she believed the spider whole-heartedly. Her hair pooled around her guilty face, and Maeve’s response was near automatic.

           “It’s okay Sir’vera, I forgive you. I should also apologize. I was very quick to judge. It was unkind of me as well.” She said softly. Sir’vera seemed to brighten.

           “Does that mean we can be friends?” She asked, almost over-eager.

           Maeve though she was beginning to understand Sir’vera a bit better. She had been isolated for so long, and though she was certainly not human she clearly shared certain traits with them. She’d wager that Sir’vera was immensely lonely, and though Maeve was injured and healing she was still someone for Sir’vera to talk to. Maeve nodded.

           “Yes, we can be friends.”

/*\

           The search party had found something. In fact, they’d found it nearly an hour ago. They were just trying to figure out who was going to go and tell the king. The tracks didn’t lie, and the tracks told a tragic story indeed.

           The rain had washed away much of this story, the single stroke of lightning above mocking them. The bear’s pawprint had hardened in the mud, the one clear track on top of the princesses much less noticeable ones. They followed near the exact same trail, and though it vanished once it hit the grasses it was obvious what had transpired. There were no remains, no blood or clothes, so they didn’t think the bear had eaten her. But then, even a bear would not be so foolish as to chase her over a cliff.

           A short distance away from the troubled party, Prince Theron stared out across the field, wondering just what he should do about this if anything. He hadn’t necessarily wanted to have this princess’s hand in marriage. He didn’t know her, but that most certainly didn’t mean he wished death upon her. It was tragic indeed, because according to his spy’s reports she had felt much the same. She had stormed off to go on a hunting trip after her father had told her the news, never to be seen again. He felt the slightest bit sad for her. If only he’d known. If only she’d known. They’d have been able to talk at their scheduled courting dates. They could have figured something else out. They both would have had their happy endings.

           But alas, happy endings didn’t exist. As the prince turned his attention back to the darkening woods, he found himself sighing. It was a nice thought, but this was real life. That was why this poor princess, only but twenty, had ended up hurling herself off a cliff instead of surviving her fit of anger and returning home with a level head. Life was cruel, nature more so.

           The prince set off with his horse, the faintest twinge of guilt thrumming in his stomach. He was almost relieved. He wouldn’t be getting married anytime soon, but that poor princess at the bottom of the ocean? She wouldn’t get married ever.

[monstrousromantic]

The Princess and the Spider

Words: 4719 

           Once upon a time there was a princess. She lived in the castle on the hill. Her life was splendor and blood. She was the only heir of a kingdom up to its neck in foes. Some days she wore gowns, some days she wore armor, but there was a single stagnant truth that could not be denied. Wherever she walked, death followed. One day she spent a little too much time out in the woods, and she took a tumble down a cliff.

           Once upon a time there was a spider. She lived in a cave by the sea. She spent her days weaving art out of silk and listening to the waves crash against the cliffs. She was happy and content, and she had many small friends to keep her company. Her gentleness was a boon to the creatures in the forest, her kindness a gift. Then one day, a human girl fell past her cave into the sea.

           Princess Maeve had decided to go hunting alone. Her day had been awful. A bow in one hand and the reins in the other, she veered off the trail into the deeper part of the forest. After all, prey knew better than to roam a predator’s trail. Coren clopped along peacefully, dark tail swishing as the leaves crunched beneath his hooves. Maeve wasn’t a bad tracker. In fact, she was certain she’d found something. The scuffing in the dirt, the delicate cracks of the twigs, these things were all she needed to figure out if something had been there. A clear track in the mud confirmed it. A deer, going the direction she was facing. She let Coren keep going.

           The sun had barely passed noon when she found it. A stag, alone. Isolated from his herd most likely. She readied her bow, the arrow positioned perfectly. She inhaled, ready to release on the exhale when a sound startled the stag. Her shot would have been head-on if only something hadn’t rustled the bushes. Her arrow, instead of the eye, was embedded in a tree as the stag took off. She swore and sent Coren chasing after it. She wasn’t losing her prey, not now, not ever. She wasn’t sure how long she pursued the antlered beast when Coren came to a halting stop. His startled whinny rivaled her own. She yelped as she was almost thrown from the saddle.

           As she recovered her balance, her prize stallion edging back down the incline, she glared around at her surroundings. The woods seemed no different. The sun glowed a soft shade of green through the leaves. The birds chirped away, uncaring of the human and her horse. A creek flowed nearby, the soft sound of water rushing through her ears. There was nothing to signify any danger, and yet the horse would not move forward. The deer was long gone. Maeve swore, kicking her heels just a tad harder. Still Coren would not move. She got off the saddle, attempting to pull him forward with the reins.

           “Come on Coren, what’s got you spooked? You lost us that deer!” She chided. The horse did not answer back. Instead a light sheen of sweat decorated his fur. Fear glittered in his eyes. Maeve was left baffled. Coren was one of the best horses in the stables, nothing could spook him. She’d seen him step over snakes with not a care in the world. What had him so terrified?

           She pulled at the soft leather once more. Coren took a step backwards. A loud crack echoed through the woods, and that was all it took for her favored beast to dart off into the forest without her. The princess, in her panic, called out for him to come back. He did not. She faced the wood again, the direction the deer had run off to. There was nothing. Her brow furrowed; she drew her bow. Just in case. It was entirely possible that the horse had sensed something she didn’t, he had better hearing after all, but it seemed irrational. If there was danger nearby, wouldn’t it have spooked that squirrel into a tree? The woodpecker hammering away at the bark?

           An arrow nocked; she took a few steps further into the unforgiving wilderness. Those two steps were all it took. It made sense now, why Coren had run off as he had. He’d been tall enough to see over the massive bush, where she’d needed to take a few steps to find a gap she could see through. The bear snarled, getting up on its hind legs. Maeve had been told many times what to do if she ever saw a bear, but the lesson fled her mind as terror set in. She did the only thing she could think of, which was coincidentally also the worst. She ran.

/*\

           Sir’vera let the silk fall through her fingers, ever soft and malleable. The same shade of white as the hair that flowed down her shoulders, that covered every inch of her eight legs. She wove the thread together, gently pulling it from the spinnerets at the base of her abdomen. The cold season was coming soon, and she wanted more carpets to put down in her modest cave. The stone could almost be enough to freeze her feet when winter woke. In that moment she wondered if she should weave herself another blanket. One could never have enough blankets.

           She shook her head. No. Once the carpet was done, she had to get to work on someone else’s blankets. She wasn’t sure what a pair of naga were doing so far up north, but they would also need help staying warm once the snow started falling. It was good to have friends, even if they only ever showed up when they needed something from her. She didn’t realize she was frowning until a little jumping spider tapped her face with a miniscule leg.

           “What’s wrong? You look sad.” The spider told her. She smiled and waved him off, careful not to let the handful of silk tangle.

           “Oh nothing. I always feel a little melancholy this time of year.” She assured. “It’s the weather. It makes you sleepy too.” She teased. Though the spider did not have as expressive a face as she, she could tell it didn’t believe her. She resumed her task, and the jumping spider joined his friends at the top of the ceiling. She pointedly looked away as he pounced on a smaller, weaker compatriot. She was able to persuade them to get along most of the time. Most.

           She was impressed with their work though. It wasn’t often she could get the various spiders of the forest to work together so well. She wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be yet, but the tapestry was still under construction. She could see shapes along the outlines, nothing in the middle yet. Trees perhaps? She smiled. She wouldn’t interrupt them. It was nice that they were willing to do favors for her at all. She was almost finished with her new rug, and she knew exactly where she’d put it. There was a criminally bare spot by her nest, which was decidedly far too cold when she woke up in the morning. Something absolutely had to be done about it.

           As she stared down at the offensive spot of stone, she pondered. She held up the completed square of silk. It was certainly big enough to cover the spot, but she wasn’t sure how to integrate it with the other rugs she’d made. Most of them were decorated, pretty pictures woven within, but this one was entirely plain. Perhaps she could hide the corners beneath the others? She had to hold in her sigh. She could think about it all day if she needed to. It wasn’t like she had anything better to do. Maybe she’d dedicate the next several days to rearranging everything. That, at least, would preoccupy her mind for a week or two. That was when she heard it. The roar of a bear, and a scream. She rushed to the entrance of her cave only to see a human woman whisk past her face as she fell off the cliff into the sea.

           She let out a startled yelp herself, and immediately leaped into action. She tied the end of her silk to one of the boulders that shielded her home from the elements, and she scaled the cliff down. She tried to move quickly, but the unfortunate truth was that her limbs were large. She needed to find crevices to fit her feet into, and with a dawning sense of horror she realized she’d lost track of where the woman had fallen in. She hoped she wasn’t too late. As she reached the waves, she searched the water frantically. She could feel the icy saltwater lay claim to her feet. Sir’vera couldn’t help but recoil.

           “There!” A tiny voice said. “She’s right there! See that dark shape?”

           She did, and thanks to the jumping spider that had lodged himself into her hair, she was able to fish the human out of the water and bring her up to safety. She shooed her smaller friends off the mound of blankets she called her nest. The human was sopping wet, and completely asleep. For a terrible moment Sir’vera thought she might be dead when the daintiest cough escaped her blued lips. Then she started retching saltwater. Relieved, if mildly disgusted, Sir’vera got to work.

           The armor the human wore had an obnoxious number of buckles and ties. As she maneuvered the poor thing over to the fire pit, gently patting her back as she coughed, she grappled with the leather for only a few moments before she reached the end of her patience. Sir’vera found herself mentally apologizing as she severed the buckles off with her talons. There was simply no time. She placed the disassembled pieces in a corner, swiftly moving to rip a blanket out of her nest and swath the tiny human within. As the small creature shivered, the spider eyed her brazier critically. The flame had grown smaller, the embers dimming. It wouldn’t hurt to add another log or two.

The fire roared and the woman had finished throwing up water. Swathed in Sir’veras silk he had drifted off to sleep. Sir’vera cradled the head on one of her fluffy legs. She couldn’t help her curiosity. She’d never seen a human up close before. She knew enough to tell that this one was female. The males had hair on their faces, this one did not. At least, she thought that was right. It could be the other way around. She could ask when the human woke up.

She placed the back of her hand on the human’s forehead, checking for fever. The spider blinked, taking notice of the human’s face. Long lashes, rounded ears, she was very pretty. Sir’vera recalled the stories her mother had told her about these creatures. That they were brutish, cruel. Single-minded and violent. They were vicious to anything not their own, and they would not hesitate to end her should they ever find out about her existence. That was what her mother had told her, and that ensured Sir’vera remained entirely confused.

           Gently she combed her claws through the human’s hair, conquering the tangles the sea had wrought. What was her name? Where had she come from? What did she do with those flimsy little fingernails instead of claws? Sir’vera gently wove the dark hair into braids as her new friend fell into a deeper sleep. The shivering had stopped, and she hoped that was a good sign.

She touched the human girl’s cheek. It felt soft, not much different from her own. Her arms, too, were similar, but she only had two eyes. That seemed terribly inefficient. What caught her interest most, however, was the feet. The human had such odd legs. It seemed she should be clumsy with only two, but she had run fast enough to get away from that bear. Away from the bear but over the cliff. She thought ruefully. It seemed they couldn’t control their speed very well.

           Curiously, Sir’vera lifted a corner of the blanket. Gently, she scraped the tip of her claw over the sole of the human’s foot. The flesh was as soft as that on her hands, only the slightest bit tougher. It would be so easy to wound her, with no natural protection. The human flinched, and Sir’vera’s heart stopped. Had she hurt her? But the woman hadn’t been roused from her sleep, and so the enormous spider continued her inspection. The little toes were cute, but also not good for self-defense. What made these creatures so threatening? Perhaps she had sharp teeth? The spider replaced the corner of the blanket, baffled. She could not for the life of her figure out just what it was that made these little human creatures so dangerous.

/*\

           The last thing Maeve remembered was the bear.

She’s been running so fast, faster than she’d ever run before. She had leapt over logs and dodged stray tree roots. Her survival absolutely had to be the work of the divine. For a split moment she thought she’d escaped. She thought she could no longer hear the bears lumbering strides, that it’s slavering jaws wouldn’t be sinking into her throat. Maybe it had grown bored, and that was why it had slowed down. As her luck gave out and she finally tripped, she realized that was not the case as the crashing waves pulled her down.

Yet, when she opened her eyes, she realized there was no sea, no cliff, and most certainly no bear. Maeve woke to the sound of a crackling fire. Sparks flickered as her eyes drowsily slid open. Her sight felt funny, sluggish, as though she shouldn’t be awake yet. She felt warm and snug. As she reached up, she found that her hair had been tended to. Had she been saved then? Lady Luck was truly having a marvelous time toying with her today. Slowly she tested her limbs. Would it hurt to sit up? Her breath caught.

           Yes. Yes, it did hurt to sit up. She groaned and let herself lay back down. She took the opportunity to turn her neck, inspecting her surroundings. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. She was clearly in a cave. The rocky outcropping of the ceiling could tell her that much, a tiny hole carved out to release the smoke, but the rest of it was hidden. Soft white rugs completely encased the floor, the only spot left bare being by the brazier. Candles sat on small wooden tables, illuminating the spaces that the fire couldn’t quite reach. Then there was the pile.

           A pile of what she wasn’t sure, but it looked to be the same fabric that doused the rest of the cave. It was piled high, almost in the manner of a mattress. Was that someone’s bed? It looked positively enormous.

           “Oh, you’re awake!” A voice chirped. As Maeve looked over, she realized with a rising sense of dread just what the pale fabric was. Her luck had gone down again. The woman standing before her wasn’t completely woman, that was quite certain. Her hair was long, the color of freshly fallen snow. Her form was slim, her curves soft. Her hips bled into something decidedly inhuman, eight legs as furry as her pet kitten sprouting from what Maeve supposed was a rather large abdomen. Her face was pretty, though the four eyes were disconcerting. Four eyes the exact same color as the sapphires in her mother’s favorite tiara. Maeve was deciding how to respond when the odd woman-spider continued.

           “Are you feeling any better? That was quite the fall. I checked you over for wounds. There was a small gash on your arm but thankfully nothing seems broken, though I imagine you’ll be quite sore for a while.” She winced apologetically. Maeve got a glimpse of razor-sharp fangs. She knew that some species of spider were venomous. Was this creature as well?

           “Um,” Maeve started. She could feel her brows furrowing, instinctively grabbing for her clothing only to find that, beneath this blanket, there was nothing else covering her. She supposed the spider-woman took note of that because a crestfallen expression took her face.

           “Do I frighten you?” she asked gently. Maeve felt the bafflement run through her chest, followed quickly by guilt. Why guilt? The spider looked sad.

           “No,” Yes. The girl looked unconvinced. Still, her clawed fingers offered up a steaming clay bowl. As the scent wafted over Maeve found that her mouth was watering. Without thinking she took the bowl and let the steaming broth run down her gullet, chasing away the remaining ice in her bones. She hadn’t realized just how hungry she’d been, happily fishing out chunks of meat with her spoon. After the first several bites, her stomach felt sated enough that her mind could wander. What was she supposed to do? She had heard of creatures that lived in the forests, creatures that did not appreciate the presence of humanity in their lands, but the massive spider didn’t seem to share that sentiment. As the spider watched her, almost eagerly, Maeve got the sense that she was curious.

           But then, she could also be trying to fatten her up as a next meal. The human torso looked awfully thin. No matter how comfortable the spider silk was and no matter how delicious the food, she had to get out of this cave.

           “My name is Sir’vera.” The spider said, “What’s yours?”

           Sir’vera’s voice was gentle, hypnotic. Maeve wasn’t sure if it was the light volume or the softness of her tone, but there was this underlying quality to it that made the princess want to listen to her forever. It put her even more on edge than before. A thought struck her. As much as the nonhuman fairy tales were said to dislike humans, they’d dislike the notion of many humans even more. There was no doubt a search party would be out looking for Maeve, and she sincerely doubted this creature would want to be discovered. Maybe a fancy title would be enough to get her out of here unscathed?

           “Maeve, Princess of Illoria.” It did not have the effect she’d hoped for. The spider’s jeweled eyes widened in awe, her smile growing even brighter.

           “A princess? How wonderful!” She paused. “Though I have to admit, all I know about princesses is what I’ve read in fairy tales.” Her voice took on an air of mortification.

           A dream. This had to be a dream. An odd, fever induced dream that she was living out on some poor old fisherman’s cottage floor. That made infinitely more sense than a wild spider woman in a cave knowing how to read. The girl wasn’t even wearing a chemise! Could she, considering her anatomy? One question at a time.

           “Where did you learn how to read?” She said. The spider – Sir’vera, though Maeve wasn’t sure why she’d need to remember since this was just a dream – had the audacity to raise an eyebrow at her, as though the answer should be obvious.

           “My mother taught me. Didn’t yours teach you?” Sir’vera didn’t wait for a response. “What were you doing so far out in the woods? I thought humans lived in large communities. As a princess wouldn’t you be protected?”

           “I was out hunting.” Maeve could feel her voice taking on a defensive tone. “And I would’ve had that deer too if it wasn’t for that damn bear.”

           Her head was beginning to hurt. As nice as the soup had been she could feel her mouth drying up, her sight growing foggy. Was it time for this bizarre dream to end? She supposed so. She could see Sir’vera’s mouth moving, likely asking more questions, and then the next thing she knew she had fallen over. Maeve was so tired, and she just wanted to go back to sleep. She could faintly register the spider girl standing up, a panicked expression crossing her strange face.

           In that moment, all Maeve could think about was how comfortable spider silk was. Then she dreamed real dreams, about bears and spiders and the sea.

/*\

           Sir’vera was panicking. She wasn’t sure what she’d done wrong. One moment the human was sitting upright, the empty bowl sitting stable in her hands. She’d been pouting about her botched hunting trip when she’d just toppled over. Sir’vera had jumped right into action. She lifted Maeve’s head, supporting her shoulders with her arm. Unsure what else to do she poked at Maeve’s face.

           “Maeve? Maeve?! Oh no you need to wake up! I don’t know what else you need!” She squeaked, doing her best not to wail in the sick woman’s ear. As she tried to shake the princess awake a twirling shape in front of her caught her attention.

           “Calm down!” A widow said, the blood red hourglass glittering in the firelight as she hung from the ceiling. “Humans require water more often. Perhaps you should offer her a drink from your cask?” She coaxed. Sir’vera blinked and then nodded. Gently, she set Maeve back down by the fire and inspected the drawers on her largest table. It had to be there somewhere.

           Finally, she found it. She grasped the soft leather triumphantly as she carefully unscrewed the cap. She stared down at Maeve, unsure how to proceed. Should she just pour the water in her mouth? Could the sleeping figure sort herself out? She didn’t think so. Sir’vera looked to the widow.

           “Now what?” she asked. The widow instructed her, telling her to tilt the human’s head just so and to only pour a little bit of water at a time. She had to rub a finger over a pressure point in Maeve’s throat, a task that had Sir’vera sweating, but she was able to do it just fine with the harmless edge of her knuckle.

           The human didn’t wake up. Sir’vera was worried and perhaps a bit disappointed. However, her breathing was even, and a bit of pinkness had returned to her cheeks. Was she supposed to be pink? The widow assured her that she’d done everything right. Exhaling, the woman set down her human charge, ensuring she was comfortable and not too close to the flame.

           “Thank you. How do you know so much about them?” She asked, trying to be polite.

           “I used to live in the corner of a doctor’s house. Incredibly rude man but very knowledgeable. I was taking care of his pest problem and he took down my web! You can imagine my indignation.” That was only the start.

           The widow carried on with her rant a while, Sir’vera nodding along and offering the occasional ‘hmm’ and ‘uh-huh.’ She was entranced. Now that she’d had a moment to calm down, she realized something incredibly important. The human girl sleeping by her brazier was even more beautiful when she wasn’t half-drowned.

           She allowed the widow to drone on to her little heart’s content, and as soon as she retired for the night Sir’vera took the opportunity to get closer. A thin sheen of sweat coated the woman’s forehead, and Sir’vera wondered if it was the fire or the fever. She shot a glance to her bed. Fever was supposed to be taken care of that way, right? She decided she could survive the night without two of the forty blankets that sat in her favorite corner.

           She pulled the desired fabric from her nest, folding it neatly so it would better cushion her new friend on the cold, hard floor. Gently she lifted the woman in her arms and set her on the bed while she worked. The space on the floor wasn’t small, but she didn’t want to risk setting her silk alight. Everything had to be positioned just perfectly. As she settled the human into her makeshift bed she wondered what she should do, but one thing was certain. The human would have to stay much longer than she initially thought. For such allegedly terrifying creatures the widow hadn’t been shy with her information. Humans were immensely fragile.

           The princess would just have to stay longer, and content with the thought Sir’vera settled herself into her own pile of blankets. She happily snuggled into her pillow and let her legs splay out, but despite it all she found she could not sleep. She was simply too excited, too awake. Her mother had often told her that her impatience would be her undoing, but she just couldn’t help it. Though she closed all four of her eyes and willed herself to drift off, she simply had too much energy. Unconsciousness would not claim her yet, and as much as she wished they could have talked more Maeve wasn’t going to wake up any time soon.

           It was then that she heard it, the harsh song of the wolves as they cried out their victory over whatever prey they’d caught. She took a brief glance around her little cave. The widow had mentioned that humans required small but consistent meals, especially when sick. It would be less than ideal if Sir’vera couldn’t provide. She decided to put all her newfound energy to good use. Hunting by the light of the full moon would be delightfully simple.

/*\

           The castle was in an uproar, but it was a quiet uproar. The breeze blew by peacefully. The ivy crawling up the stone walls lay undisturbed. Servants bustled about as they did every day, and gentle chatter echoed throughout halls and courtyards. No battalion approached; no soldiers were to be sent away. All was seemingly well. Yet within, the royal family and its inner circle were in hysterics. The queen was locked in her chambers, the sound of her cries piercing in the halls. The king sat in the war room with his generals. His dark eyes belied his night of sleeplessness. He stared down at the map, greasy curls hanging in his face.

           He would not sleep, eat, or bathe until his daughter was returned to him. There simply wasn’t the time to waste. The Green Army maintained a stalwart fortress to Illoria’s western border, the little miniature marring the delicate illustrations of grass and flowers on the map. The elves in the southern deserts didn’t press on their borders, but he knew that if Maeve strayed too close, they wouldn’t hesitate to steal her away for ransom. There wasn’t much to speak of in the north. Merely uninhabitable wasteland, frozen and unwelcoming. He wasn’t sure what it was home to. Hearing the stories from his expedition teams, he didn’t want to find out.

           There was just one problem. Maeve hadn’t gone in any of those three directions. She had gone east on her hunting trip. The tracker had been able to get that far before the rainstorm forced them out of the forest, drowning out her trail. All that existed there was coastline, the nearest port being leagues away. Anything could have happened to her. A wild animal. A cliff. An assassin. Thinking about it would only make it worse. Words could not begin to describe the anguish that King Lorenth felt when he heard that Maeve’s favorite stallion was found in the woods by a nobleman’s son, out on a hunt himself. Reportedly the horse had been terribly spooked, panting hard and hot to the touch. His saddle had been empty, the princess nowhere to be found.

           Lorenth had to take a moment to rest his eyes, they stung so bad, but there was nothing to be done for it. He wondered if he should have waited for a better time to inform her of the alliance he’d arranged. He wondered if it was worth losing his only child this way, to the wilderness where they might never find her.

           As his wife’s hoarse wail echoed into the war room, he could feel someone pat his back. General Veran’s scarred face looked down at him, his gaze soft.

           “Don’t worry your majesty, we will find her.”