The spider dangled on a thread centimeters before her nose, disturbed by a breath of wind that ghosted through the mixed deciduous and evergreen trees. Its eight little limbs worked frantically to pull itself back up onto its half-constructed webs, and Vesper bumped it with her muzzle, watching it swing once more, almost pendulum like. It wiggled and resumed its escape, finally making it to the center of the web, where it turned and watched the coywolf resentfully.
A sigh left Vesper’s lips as she turned away and continued her walk through Arachnea’s Revenge, back in the direction of the mountains. Perhaps, if she stood on one of the peaks, she would be able to see the territories where she’d been born.
Right now, all that matters is food. She knew the prey sources closer to the Dampwoods better than on the other end of the peninsula, and she hadn’t eaten well recently. Her gaunt face turned quickly when she thought she heard the foliage rustling, but it must have been in her imagination. She trotted on, sniffing for a game trail.
The coywolf walked for about an hour until the trees ended, leaving to a short expanse of grass. An unusually blue lake glistened beyond, smelling of reeds and fish and other animals that came by to drink.
And then another scent—that of a male dog. Vesper paused before she came to the water’s edge, pricking her ears.
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