Thuringwethil was snared in a blinding web of shadow. The spider’s legs stroked eagerly over her body; unresisting, Thuringwethil admired the many-faceted eyes gleaming with pale deadly fire, her legs adorned with sharp claws--perhaps worthy of an alliance.
But sudden malice and hunger bloomed in the spider’s eyes, her intent now to devour her captive. Thuringwethil gave an indignant screech and sank her own fangs into the spider’s leg; the spider scurried backwards, glaring. Thuringwethil’s iron claws rent the clinging webs, and then she was aloft. Pah! The spider’s poison could not harm her, but her blood tasted foul.