Legend of Ransera

When she had set out, given permission to hunt — permission; ha! — before the trip, Nnerka had been certain to tell them that she knew not how far she would go. That she would be following the tracks of her prey, or waiting for them to come to her. Any look of protest had been silenced with a smile and a promise that she could always hunt in their backyard. What did she know; she was just a spider who didn’t understand boundaries. Harada’s men seemed a touch more eager to let her go after that. Further arrangements had been handled.

Which was what lead to her being...all the way out here now. The familiar gait of six legs was a welcome return. Two was simply annoying and three was a hassle of trying to maneuver. Perhaps she was being picky, but it was what had served her thus far. Six legs lined with hairs that raised now, giving her pause. Something loud, but not loud. Small?

The hut she’d encountered hadn’t seemed deserted. Good; she didn’t mind the idea of turning some hermit into a meal. Probably tasted better with a diet fresher than those in the city. Untainted by the complacency of civilization. Her traps were not entirely set when the air flew. A poor shot; it missed. Knicked several of her threads and snapped their connection to the trees outside. But it was enough to know that whoever this hut belonged to had come back.

There was no reason to hide. She had already been spotted, or well — they knew she was here. But she could just as easily catch them off guard with her appearance. Poking her head out of the entrance, her eyes slid over the area before her.

“Has someone come home?”

Well — this certainly wasn’t an old hermit man.

The creature that approached the hut, speed gaining as it came barreling forward. But it knew what it was doing; there was a sort of skill that could be gleaned to the untrained eye, even if it did appear almost clumsy and pointless. Nnerka’s brows rose as she stepped back just enough to miss being nicked entirely by the tip of the spear. It slid just under her, cutting through flesh slightly but nothing fatal. Nothing she was unused to. This was a confrontation like any other struggling prey.

Somewhat like the one in the bush. Which, she probably wouldn’t have paid much attention to if not for the fact that they’d thrown a rock at her — and missed. She might have been amused if she didn’t assume the assault was meant to put her at a disadvantage of some sort. The spider hissed. Countless times she’d slowed the process of the push of her mandibles past the flesh of her mouth to scare, but now she was too annoyed to delight in the fear it might of produced. Instead, the mask of a pretty woman fell away with any congeniality she may have had to spare for the child.

Her lower arms rubbed against her abdomen, flicking off the hairs there. While they wouldn’t do much in the way of damage, they would be irritating enough to the child to keep her busy while Nnerka tugged at the threads she’d laid down. They’d stick to skin and hair, fingers twisting to weave them together to be stronger. From her abdomen to the spearhead, her lower hands shot down, coated in the sticky solution of half-formed webbing that nearly cemented her hands to the weapon, locking it in her grip.

One thing dealt with, another to handle. Several eyes turned in the direction the rock might have come from. From her came a slightly deeper, firm: “No.”

When she was younger, Nnerka used to play-fight her sisters. Mama had been adamant about them learning these skills. Those moments, though they’d dissolved into fits of giggles from the victors and whines from the losers, had proven to be useful once before. And it would seem that they would prove to be useful yet again. Of course, she had never doubted the wisdom of her Mama.

Bushes rustled, but she paid them no mind. Yshvold was not one to come with friends — she was pretty sure he didn’t have any. He’d not struck her as being terrible sociable. And the hut had been empty when she’d arrived, and the girl hadn’t wasted time throwing herself at Nnerka.

She was alone.

The spear vanished, leaving Nnerka to close her fingers around nothing but the sticky cementing form of the webbing. She let her nails shred through them. She should have snapped the spear. Maybe that would have put a majority of this struggle to an end. A mistake she would have to deal with, probably. The girl staggered for a moment as if in pain, before her struggle continued anew. And as she did, Nnerka lifted a hand and swatted at her head. Not enough to do any serious damage, but hopefully enough to disorient.

As she did so, the spear reappeared, aimed for her face. Nnerka barely had time to avoid it. It grazed her cheek, the drip of warm blood coming quick as several strands of hair fell to her shoulder. She scooped the girl up quick — one set of arms bringing her in close and the other hefting her up to eye level for the spider to lean back and slam her forehead down onto the girl’s.

Nnerka blinked, grip tighter on the girl to hold her in place. “Enough! Gods, what a handful you are.” She tried, for a moment, not to think of how similar this seemed to her first meeting with her wolf pup. The only difference is that there likely wouldn’t be her Mama coming through the trees to inquire on what manner of creature she’d managed to pick up this time. It didn’t change the fact, though, that she assumed this small girl was out here by herself. Caring for herself. She sniffed, was slightly more gentle in her hold of the other.

“Name? What is your name?”

Loneliness