Legend of Ransera

Stories had always been a good way to bond with her siblings. Stories of hunts, of exploring. It had brought them closer. But most importantly, they had used them to pass time on the long hunts. The ones that required them to wait for their prey to wander into the right spot. There was nothing quite like the lull that came when they fell into anticipatory silence when the first snaps of branches sounded from their prey. Even then, surely, they would regale each other with versions of a hunt just passed as if they all hadn’t been present. The memory brought a smile to the spider’s lips as she sipped at her drink.

The owner of the tavern had his own story to tell. Franky, as she had observed, was a fairly amicable man. And that had origins in that lay beyond Zaichaer, but not too much more than that. The story he told was insightful enough; she hadn’t pegged him as much of a romantic, if that was the word for it. But, she listened, regardless. Her relatively recent introduction to civilization had taught her a number of things. This Imperium he spoke of so fondly had a mixed bag of opinions surrounding its being — and therefore it was like the rest of civilization.

His story concluded, and much like the ones that had come before him, there were raised drinks and applause. A moment of deliberation while they waited for the next storyteller. Nnerka had considered sharing the stories of her youth, but some experience had been enough to know that the things she found joy in were not the same as others. Or, perhaps — this was a different sort of crowd. One that could appreciate the moments she cherished. The sentiments she could share, maybe.

The tavern was packed, much like a few of the other nights she’d been sure to attend, and she’d opted for two legs rather than six. She could easily have stepped over every one of them, if she wanted. Another moment of quiet — and she stepped forward. Crossed through the crowd with ease to center stage.

The spider was not much of a storyteller. Not in her opinion. “When I was a little girl, a tiny little spider.” Her claws measured out her size (exaggerated greatly) to follow her words. “I had a dog. A wolf, really, but he was small enough to pass as one. I loved him dearly, loyal thing.”

A pause, a draw of breath.

“And then, villagers killed him.”

Nnerka hadn’t really expected to…feel as much as she did, thinking back to the events that had transpired. Perhaps it was because of how important it had all been. Or maybe it was because Tuti had been hers, her child. The rush of anger was as fresh as the day she had first seen his little corpse. Well, not so little for his species, but to her, he would always have been her little wolf.

“They didn’t have laws and haughty, tiny people like they do here. Not in the way that matters much to you shit-huffers could understand. They gave their village a stupid fucking name and said it would be somewhere great in the kingdom of Atinaw. Said they would be the greatest. But they were probably no different from any of the humans here. So sure of how much better they were when they didn’t even know that they were just another potential meal for something else. Something bigger, more clever, or simply luckier.” She shrugged, almost the picture of nonchalance but for the stiffness of the action. She could feign flippancy, but the more she thought about it the more unsettled she felt. What had given them the right?

Right; they thought they owned everything. “We were not a big clan by the standards of our people, but we were enough to hold sizeable territory and command respect from anything smart enough to feel that sort of thing. Smarter than humans, of course.” She reached down for the drink set by the stage, brow raised as she took a drink of it. A delighted hum only mildly masked the irritation that had welled up within her as she told her tale.

“My little wolf was a runt. Abandoned and I caught him in a trap because it was my first time doing it alone and I was just so glad to catch anything. But instead, I took him home and I cared for him and then those people. He was mine, and I was supposed to care for him. And I did and I loved him, sweet little Tuti.” She paused, breathed deep.

“For the crime of taking my child from me.” A small smile, pleased now. It had been a rather...therapeutic process her vengeance. To have them feel the way she had. Her smile grew marginally as she lifted her glass to her lips to take another sip, left off another pleased chitter. “I took their children. And I made sure they found them in much the same state I had found my own.”

She sighed. Her tone was entirely too conversational for discussing the murder of children. There were probably laws in Zaichaer concerning this, but who would care about what happened in the wilds of a foreign nation decades ago? “Really, parents should keep better watch of their children in a forest that doesn’t belong to them. They don’t pay attention and suddenly someone doesn’t show up for supper. They look away for two seconds, and sweet little Cynthia is off to play in the grove of trees where she saw a pretty flower she wanted to bring back to her mother. But Cynthia never comes homes. They send her brother to find her and he doesn’t come back either. The forest is dark; they can trip and fall into wolf traps if they don’t carry torches with them.” Another sip, the action almost coy as her gaze swept over the crowd.

“The river ran close, too.” The smile on her face was like that of someone recalling some sort of prank she’d done before, looking back fondly. “So easy to slip and fall on the rocks. So easy for Michael to trip and bump his head.” She could see them so clearly, as if she were doing it all over again. “Cynthia screamed — gods, she had quite a set of lungs on her until she didn’t — but she was too far out. She tried to claw at me but she was too high up, flying almost like those avialae she liked to see fly overhead when they migrated like the birds they seem so much like. Her brother — Samael? — he did fall. Into a trap; I had no part in that, but I put him out of his misery after he kept calling for his mother and I wondered.” She tipped her head to the side, sucked in a breath. Her smile had dropped as her gaze went back to the crowd.

“Had Tuti called for me the same way?” She sniffed. “In his own way, had he called for me to come save him from those pale vicious creatures?”