At the heart of everything, she waited. Time would reward her and she was quite accustomed to being patient. Her skills as a designer of traps were unmatched. Tomorrow, if not today, her web would be loaded with fresh food.
Meanwhile, her children, newly hatched, joined the rest of their brethren spreading throughout the half-built city. Looking for the right humans. The architects and builders. Whispering into their ears and their dreams the forms of new buildings to be made. All constructed from interlacing rings and lines, each supported on eight perfect legs.
The city, her shapes. All the same.
Damian Mark Whittle
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