Prey or Predator: Into the Web!

Finally, a dark place to sleep. After a fairly long search, a young spider wraith had at last found a secluded, dark place where she could go to sleep. The place she chose, actually, was a good pick, as far as places like that go. It was the loft of a barn. The barn was part of a humble ranch, miles from any kind of real civilization. At first glance, there didn’t appear to be a lot of people living there. The only building she saw, besides the rather spacious looking barn, was a lone ranch house. There wasn’t even any kind of bunk house for migrant workers. Sad. It would have made for a more guilt free breakfast. Still, a barn loft was as good a place as any.

Inside was just as good as she thought it would be. Although the sky had already started to turn blue again, the loft was still pitch black. It was just right for a dark girl who liked dark places. On either side there were support beams, perfect for her to string her web between. Sure, it may have been a might dirty, and the space was fairly funky, but so were a lot of dark places. She was used to it. Plus, the place was crawling with lesser spiders, so she would have plenty of stories to swap after she woke up. It would be a good sleep after the end of a boring day. If not, then at least she found a good way to end it.

And so, she made some web silk and started constructing her bed. First, she strung up her support strand, a perpendicular thread that went between her web frames. The barn had a high roof, so her web would be nice and big. Next, she put up her criss-crossing portion, making sure the finished product would have a solid structure. It was always important to make sure one had good back support. After that, she had a choice of personal preference. What kind of pattern did she want her web to have? Since it was early and she wanted to go to sleep, the easiest thing would do. A spiral. Once she circled around a few times, it was finished. Good night, Miss Spider.

Well, something of a night. A few moments after her eyes closed and she fell into slumber, a problem aroused. The support beams, old as they were compared to her fresh thread, weren’t able to support her. A corner snapped off, and the web, strand by strand, fell from where it was stuck until the whole thing simply fell to the floor, girl and all. Awake, she grumbled to herself, frowning and wiping dust and picking hay from her clothes. For what it was worth, sleep wasn’t what she wanted after that. She’d likely be burning daylight if she tried it again, and peasant farm folk usually got up at ungodly times in the morning anyways. “Breakfast…”

After stepping outside and taking in a big breath of pre-morning air, she sprouted the rest of her legs and made her way into the ranch house. She didn’t expect to find much in the way of food, but there was little recourse. It was a humble ranch, miles from any kind of real civilization. The best she could do was whoever was inside. To avoid waking any of the occupants up, she moved slowly. If any, by chance, did awaken, she stuck to the ceilings, so they wouldn’t notice her. She didn’t really know why, but humans didn’t look up as often as they should have. Considering she’d dropped down on almost half of her meals, it was likely in their best interest.

Just as the outward appearance of the house suggested, the inside of the house wasn’t anything greater than one would suspect. The bedrooms were well stocked though. The first she came to was home to a young man, no older than ten or twelve. She licked her lips as soon as she saw him. Male children, and especially ones that were as healthy looking as him, were always the most delicious. Just seeing such a choice meal almost sent her into a mild Rage. However, she had the will to resist. Spider Wraiths were a caring, sympathetic kind of race. She wouldn’t drain him if he was the only son of his parents.

Creeping along, she made her way around the house until she came to the only other bedroom. Lying asleep in bed, there were two older humans. One was a middle aged female, probably in her late thirties, with a somewhat thick build. The other was an older male, likely in his early forties, whose hair had grayed considerably. This time her choice wasn’t as simple as spiral or circle. There she had to choose which person’s blood it would be less malevolent to drink. It took a little while, but she eventually went with the male. He was older, perhaps near death already. Most humans didn’t live past fifty after all.

Either way, after she began to feed on his juices, it wouldn’t matter what she was thinking of beforehand. It was always a joy to feed. Still, she had some tact about it. As she bore her fangs, she lowered her mouth to his forehead, almost like she was going to give him a kiss. Her teeth sunk into his hairline, where she would leave the littlest mess. With that, she began to suck in the savory red slime. She’d had better, oh yes, but his blood was still fairly tasty. It had a kind of wholesomeness to it that city blood just didn’t have. That was always the case in the country. The people there had better diets than most city dwellers.

Once the spider wraith had drawn out every last drop that she could, and the man was as white as a sheet left out in a blizzard, she pulled her teeth away, letting some of the stuff drip from her fangs onto her chin. By the way she had done it; it nearly looked like he had died of natural causes. That was the best way to do it, although it did deny one the opportunity to devour the delectable brain tissue. Meanwhile, she went back to watch the boy sleep for a minute or two and then headed out to the barn. She may not have had any intention of going back to sleep, but it was still a secluded, dark place.

To her surprise, a pronounced and peculiar smell was coming from behind the barn door that wasn’t there before. A tarantula spirit? Better just to find out.

She walked carefully, not wanting to draw the attentions of whoever was inside the barn. When she opened the door, it echoed with a slight creak that she was certain was audible to even the smallest mouse inside. She left it hanging open, not wanting to create further noise, and tiptoed across the hay-strewn floor. She was cautious, like any good huntress, for the unknown is always deadly. She continued to catiously survey her surroundings until she came to the far corner of the barn, where a truly disgusting sight lay in waiting.

The cow wa still standing, as if only asleep. Or, it should be said, it would look to only be asleep if it's head wasn't smashed in. Juices flooded from the cracked skull of the creature, amassing into a smelly pile on the floor. Though she decided that it smelt delicious, she focused on what creature could have done this to the defensless cow. There was nothing on the ground, save for a few trampled on pieces of straw that could have come from a ranch hand or one of the farmer's children. She looked around, for she could sense that something was crawling here that did not belong. Save herself, of course, she thought with a chuckle.

Her eyes trailed around the room, until finally she saw her quarrey. A pair of blood red slits that stared at her through the darkness.

***

The man decided that he was officially in trouble.

Sweat was pouring underneath the mask, collecting at the lower neck, where it ended, and the shirt began. The man ignored the sweat, and began to crawl away. He reached his hand out, and started across the building's roof as easily as if it were the floor. He had to concentrate, of course, but it was easy. As long as the person did not notice him, he would be fine. It was too dark, and she was too far away, for him to see her clearly, but the spider would warn him if she spotted him. She had disturbed him during feeding, and the spider would never tolerate that.

Too slow... She sees us...

The man looked down, just as she looked up at him. Her eyes were strange, he could swear that she had two eyes under each eyelid, though that could just be a simple trick of the darkness. He could only imagine that she though ill will towards him, considering his appearance. So far, he guessed she only saw his mask's eyes, but that would be enough.

"Hsssssssssa..." he hissed, the only speech that he could perform with his mutant mouth. This only seemed to trouble the woman, who began reaching around behind her back, possibly for a weapon of some sort. He couldn't let that happen, he decided that a more tactical approach was needed.

Dodge...left...

Following the orders of the spider, the man concentrated on his entire body, rolling across the surface of the wooden ceiling, just in time to dodge the strange strands that the woman had thrown at him. Under his mask, he gaped in surprise, as the weapons the woman had chosen to use were not a knife or a gun, which he was just to avoiding, but the webs of a spider. As he readjusted himself, he released his grip on the ceiling, landing on all fours on the straw-strewn floor. He hissed again, this time in confusion, but of course was not understood, and he saw her beginning to load herself for another attack.

He raised his arms and flexed the powerful muscles that triggered his own webs. How she had webs within her was not important. The only webs that mattered were the black silk that spat from his forearms and fastened her feet to the floor. He then reared to his full height, cracking the knuckles in his fingers, and prepared to dodge once again.

There was something on her feet. It was hard to tell, but it made a sound when it hit her. The sound was sort of like a thunk mixed with a splat. The Spider Wraith looked down to see what it was. It wasn’t the right color, or the right smell, either. The hue was too dark, to the point where it was almost as black as a place with no light. It should have been white or grey. The body of the smell wasn’t full enough, like it was coming from something thinner and softer. It should have been harder to pick up on, in the same sense that it still seemed like what it should have been. Still, even with everything that wasn’t right about it, with all thing things that made it different than her version of the stuff, it appeared to be what it appeared to be. This tarantula spirit that she seemed to be involved with had just shot web at her feet, pinning her to the ground.

“That is some interesting thread you have there, darling,” said Miss Spider as she arched her back forward, “You know, at first I was curious, but now I have to know. What are you, Mr. Red Eyes?” And as she said that, she became more Miss Spider than before. By statement, she had sprouted more legs, and her limb count was up to six. By announcement, she had shown the last of her legs, and her limb count was up to eight. By question, her back legs had twisted, bone shifting and muscle moving, breaking her free of the web that bound her. By silence, her transformation was done, with her skirt hiked up and her neck craned back, all six feet on the ground and hands ready to guide her thread.

“Hsssssssssa…” the thing cried again. A beastly kind of hiss was what she heard, but it wasn’t a beastly kind of response. She felt it from the shadows, the emotional content. Perhaps it was daunted by her, tossing a thread and sticking to the wall like it did. All the same, if it didn’t stay in one place, there was no way she could find out what it was. With two eyes on the tarantula spirit and two on the way ahead, her legs kicked into motion. The speed she moved forward with was, for the most part, unique to her. She moved, clearing the floor, straddling the corner of the walls, rising to its position. Where was it? It was right in front of her. Churning up a thread, she scurried, as only spiders could scurry, forward, throwing hand at the ready. Too late. Another thunk-splat sounded, and the thing stretched all the way to the other side of the barn. Her hand may not have been able to catch up, but a change in position wouldn’t be enough to keep her from getting to it.

With a flex of the thigh and a bend of the knee, Miss Spider leapt from the wall. As she passed through the air, she raised her arm, drawing a strand of thread straight from her spinnerets. Thudding solidly against the opposite side, the Spider Wraith landed in what would have been grabbing distance, had the thing she wanted to know about not already begun to retreat. Regardless of its movement, it was within range of not only her web, but her sight as well. Black mask, red eyes, tan skin, another hiss, close to a tarantula spirit, but not exactly the same thing. Just what was it? Unfortunately, it was, if nothing else, something that caused her to hesitate. While she was caught in thought, it got farther away from her than she wanted it to go. Not wanting to loose anymore ground, she tossed her thread at it. A direct hit, justly reciprocated. She may have been able to snag one of its arms, but it found it easy enough to use its own thread to paste her feet to where they were.