testing… (1)



She crept up to the silvery web with the ease of a nightcat on glowworms; the same smooth motion, the rocking slightly back and forth. She slowly willed her finger towards the strands and with the greatest caution, laid one tip on the glowing strings. They were sticky and soft, and comforting. A smile slowed across her cheeks and she felt the moonshine in her heart. Comforting, the web was. Comforting and soft and serene and she was suddenly protected from the night, from the chill, from the fatigue and sickness that lay embedded in her body. Her heart was aglow; was comforted. The web…
The web…

If it were an artform, it would be as green as a misty midland forest, and the deep vines of the Sheti ground would demonstrate its pace. The vines that could wrap their coily fingers around a man like a rat’s paw on a pit; tightening upon his bare neck with a suffocation not known to those who still live whole. It changes that man; it molds, distorts, chokes, heaves. The taint is like thick black oil paste; a poison that stops at nobody’s command, that takes over Nobody and makes him stop to breathe himself.

And there she lay, suffering, lamenting, reaching, feeling, glowing…






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