Chapter 2 of 5

The Game is Afoot

Webber's POV

My entire body hurt.

I don't know why this fact surprised me, or why I spent the next few minutes laying still on the ground instead of trying to push myself to my feet, but I did. I was hyper-aware of the breaths leaving and entering my lungs.

Finally, I gathered the strength to push myself to my knees. I shuddered as icy air crept through my fur, so much more obvious now that I was exposing more of my body to the chill. There was a crisp silence, broken only by my too-loud breathing. I coughed lightly to dispel the scratchiness in my throat before turning my gaze up to my surroundings.

The world we left behind was in the early stages of winter. This world, however, was deep in the throes of such. Spindly, leafless trees dotted the area around me, every twig and branch encased in frost and laden with snow. In fact, there was snow almost everywhere, as deep as my ankle. The spot I had ended up was the only circle without snow as far as I could see. The ground was far from comfortable, though, as it was still soaked and muddy with snowmelt. A moment of further investigation showed a nearly burnt out fire a few paces away from me. The only thing surviving in it was a few stray embers.

But there was no sign of my companions.

"Guys?" I called into the world. My voice was rough with thirst, and my stomach was cramping with hunger pains that had returned full force. I looked back at the burnt husk of a fire with a frown. Someone had built a fire to keep me from freezing to death before I woke up, so they had been here. Or at least, someone had.

"Wilbur?" I tried, forcing my voice to raise higher despite the protests of my dry mouth. "Winona? Wilson?"

And again, silence. Emptiness. My enhanced senses gave me no information, with the snap of ice covering all other smells and whatever few sounds that made it out into the air being muffled by the snow.

I was alone.

Why was I alone?

Prickles of concern rose in my chest, and I immediately recognized that my body was trying to panic again. I had to force myself as still as possible and focus all of my attention on my breathing. The memory of Wilbur's exaggerated breathing while trying to calm me down was fresh, and for now at least, I was able to keep the terror at bay. It still rumbled deep in my chest, curling around my lungs like a vice preparing to grip, but I could choke it back for the moment. For good measure, though, I absently tried to dig a claw into my thigh. With the wrapping my companions had done, there wasn't any wound or blood, but the prick was enough to keep my head a bit clearer.

The others surely wouldn't have completely abandoned me, right?

Right?

So if that was the case, maybe they went somewhere but will be back for me? Or they left some sort of note or clue...?

A quick examination of my surrounding area showed no evidence of them.

I swallowed back the whimper threatening to rise in my throat, though that didn't stop the audible shudder from taking its place. In the previous world, I could sense the threat of an impending freeze easily enough, but I hadn't really felt any of it myself. Sure, logically, I knew that it was cold, but I had been kept plenty warm by the pressure in my chest that pulled me along. It stamped out feelings of cold and hunger for the most part.

That pressure was entirely gone though. And in its place, crippling starvation and piercing cold.

With a huff of displeasure, I inched towards the dying fire to peer into it. The embers were starting to scatter in the wind, so if I wanted to try to build it back up, I would have to be quick about it.

With the goal in mind and the determination to not fall back into terror, I started to dig for the dry bark hidden under the outer layers of the nearby trees. The wood itself was surprisingly soft, almost mushy under my claws. I growled faintly in disgust as the cold seeped through the wrappings on my claws and against my skin. Nonetheless, I kept up the task until most of the useless wood had been thrown aside and older, dryer wood started to peek through the gaps. By now, though, the embers that had been left to me where already long died out. Even the deeply rooted knowledge of fire building could do nothing for it.

With still no sight of my companions, I decided to risk setting off to find better shelter. Even if they were coming back for me- which they had to be!- it wouldn't help anyone if I froze to death before then.

I took my meager collection of wood with me and nearly tripped over an object lying on the ground seconds later. It was my sword, glowing faintly and a shade darker than it had been before. I took a moment to question whether I had it with me going into the portal before adding it to the top of the pile already in my arms.

From there, it was quiet and empty. There was only a spattering of trees around me, which left me completely exposed to the wind. Snowbirds chirped from the top of creaking branches, alerting all others of their kind to the presence of a stranger, but their panicked song was the only noise outside of my footsteps to be heard for miles around. I curled my whiskers closer to my face in a feeble attempt to keep them from freezing. I was trudging through snow, and as such, my feet had long since gone entirely numb.

My first choice was to find some sort of proper shelter – a cave or a rocky overhang that allowed me freedom from the immediate elements, but I was well aware that that was wishful thinking. At best, I might be able to find a copse of trees to block the breeze.

It quickly became apparent that even that was out of the question. There were far too few trees to provide any real protection from anything. Once the numbness started to climb up my legs and arms, I knew I would have to settle for anything. Especially when a quick check of the wood scraps I had gathered showed that they had turned mushy and wet as well from the snow. I discarded them, replacing my hold to be entirely on my sword and nothing else.

Which led to me huddling against the chilly bark of a leafless birchnut. Like the last one, the bark was noticeably mushy beneath my back, but it was all I could do at the moment. I just needed to warm up a bit and I could continue searching. The sun was still up, hovering uncertainly above the horizon almost as if it wanted to sink but knew I had little chance to survive through the night without it. I let out a small huff of wry laughter, somehow finding amusement in the idea of the heavens trying to give me more time.

It had been so many years since I was alone. It wasn't as if I hadn't survived by myself before- much smaller and younger than I was now, in fact- but I had grown impossibly soft. Back then, I had time to find my footing before the last bit of body fat burned off and I really had to go into survival mode. With almost four full years of nothing but fighting and hunting with just enough calories to retain muscle, I had no body fat to act as a buffer between me and freezing to death. Even then, prior to my little stunt that had lasted the past several days, I at least had enough muscle to hold on to warmth.

Turns out almost a week of fasting would cause a dramatic loss of muscle density.

Curled up as I was in my meager protection, I still shivered violently. I was hyper-aware of the state of my body in a way that I hadn't been prior. Little but swathes of atrophied muscles stretched tight over bones and barely hidden by chitin and fur. I closed my eyes tightly and let out a long, deep breath as the terror surged back up. I couldn't panic now. That would be the most surefire way to die a terrible, frosty death. Exhaustion swamped over me and held me in a vice grip that grew tighter every second I had my eyes closed. Falling asleep would be a terrible idea, but it would be a decent escape. Maybe permanent, if nobody found me before hypothermia set in.

A gentle stirring in the back of my mind roused me from the edges of slumber. A twinge of frustration, a thin web of resigned detachment.

A trickle of tears fell from my good eye, freezing moments after touching fur. How embarrassing. Starving and freezing to death worlds away from my home. Abandoned. Alone.

I was always meant to be alone.

No self-respecting creature would dare call you their own, human or spider alike.

When the surge of willpower suddenly ripped at my conscience, I didn't have the strength- physical or mental, to push back. Fury that was not my own overwhelmed my senses as Webber dragged me back to my feet, growling under our breath all the while. I felt disconnected from the growing cold, but the stabbing hunger gripping our abdomen rose in prominence as it went unchallenged by the other source of misery. Webber did not take full control. He didn't push hard enough to force me into peaceful apathy, but he was forcing our freezing limbs to move. When a shock of pain tore through our stomach, it was me who curled instinctively into a ball to lessen it, and it was him who forced us to stand straight up again.

Contesting minds. Both exerting will over the same body.

"I have no intention of dying here." The words slipped through our mouth, rough and angry. The spider's voice. When I responded, it was light and soft, almost impossible to recognize coming from the same mouth.

"I don't want to either."

We took a step forward, frozen joints locked and cracking in protest. The movement was jerky and unnatural, and immediately negated by a hasty step back to keep balance. Another frustrated growl rumbled in our chest as the step was attempted again. We were nearly thrown forward for the effort, both minds attempting but refusing to work together.

"Queens below, Tyler, are you wanting to freeze?"

"Not particularly."

"Then move. Or let me move."

"Last time, you attacked Wilson."

"On the contrary, last time, Wilson attacked me."

"You threatened to kill him."

"Because I was angry."

Another uncomfortably unsteady half-step. Our balance finally gave out and we collapsed to the ground.

"You felt what it was like when you had no control! Couldn't you feel how dull your emotions were? How soft and insignificant they felt? That's how I've lived for the past four years! Imagine what it feels like to suddenly have the full force of your emotions back! Of course I got overwhelmed and lashed out! You should know!"

"When I get overwhelmed, I don't try to kill people!"

"Oh ho, yes you do Tyler. Don't even lie about that. You and the monkey have already bonded over this."

An irritated huff puffed into the air, and Webber's leash suddenly grew all the more tight.

"I don't want to die," he growled.

"And you think I do?"

"You seem like it! Get. Up!"

Our body moved desperately to cling to the tree, padded claws sinking in easily to the mushy wood. An uncomfortable shudder ran through our body at the movement. The hunger in our stomach spiked pain through our abdomen again, and another audible shudder forced its way through our chest even though I wasn't feeling the cold anymore- Webber must have been taking the brunt of that, while I was taking the brunt of the starvation.

"We need to find spiders. We'll have everything we need if we can just find a den," he muttered.

"They won't have any food!" I protested. "It's in the middle of winter!"

"You haven't spent any time in a spider colony," Webber remarked dryly. His will finally won out enough to drag us into a standing position. Exhausted, I fell back, curling inwardly to protect from the hunger pains even if we couldn't physically do so. I kept careful control of him, thought, lightly tugging on the strings just enough for him to know that I wasn't going to let him take total control without a fight. To his credit, he didn't seem interested in taking complete control. The ability to walk and move seemed enough for him at the moment.

I could tell that he wasn't immune to the cold. Like me, he kept his whiskers curled in close, both hands pressed against his ribs with the mangled one held protectively between his right hand and chest. He kept his gaze low, his eyes shielded from the wind only by his own head.

It was dusk now. The sun had finally decided to relinquished its hold on the sky, and the nighttime creatures were starting to wake up. Or, at least, the ones capable of dealing with the cold. I heard the distant hiss of spiders before him, and it was my own will to jerk us towards the noise. I was desperate for warmth and food, and if Webber was telling the truth about a den being able to solve those issues... well, who was I to risk our lives because of doubt?

He growled at me and I hissed back, noises mingling into a choked snarl coming from the same mouth and chest.

"Den," I said shortly. He only nodded in response. My mind was sluggish, almost painfully slow. Higher thought had fled, leaving nothing but the words 'warmth' and 'food' to spin a rut in my brain. I couldn't be sure, but I believed he was the same way considering his lack of protest. We were past shivering now, plunging into the icy cavern of hypothermia. Cold calmness. Blissful.

Everything after that was sort of a blur. Images flickering in and out as our minds flickered and overlapped. Moments of awareness were sparked when our claws were dipped in something warm. Salt and metal assaulted our nose, but at the moment, it was the sweetest scent we had ever smelled. We eagerly dug our claws in deeper, more warmth following until we were up to our elbows in beautiful heat.

The smell awoke something else, the starvation rearing its ugly head and demanding to be satisfied. And so, we tore our arms from the warmth with handfuls of something clutched in unwrapped claws. We didn't care what it was or even if it was edible. We shoved it into our mouth without hesitation.

It was sour and tough, but the blood and juices that ran down our throat were more than enough to force us to grab another handful. It was the most delicious thing we had ever eaten. Tough and sour, yes, but every bite brought more juice and every drop of juice sent our body alight with bliss. We chewed very little, instead opting to swallow as much of the meat as possible. Soon, there was no more meat to be found, and we had to move to the next one.

Warm liquid felt like lava against our skin. Our nerves tingled in awareness as they were reactivated by the heat, and the roaring fury of our empty stomach soothed into a calm grumble. The ground was warm and soft. The hot liquid was quickly cooling on our fur, but we took care to freshen it with more still-hot blood. Our body was warm and soft. Fangs shredded tough meat with ease, claws free from their binding and ripping apart bone and chitin without difficulty. Our mind felt warm and soft.

The next time I woke up, I was standing a distance from my body once more, mind a peaceful, silent hum. I could barely recognize myself, twitching and growling as if plagued by nightmares. I was wrapped in swathes of torn silk, shreds of the material littering the ground from a destroyed den. The most notable part, though, was the blood that stained the silk maroon and the scraps of desecrated spider corpses littered the ground, each one ripped into pieces with much of the meat stripped from their bones.

"Ready for another day, Tyler?"

I swallowed hard, staring in disdain at the horrible scene in front of me. I couldn't remember any of this. My memories faded entirely after Webber had dragged us back into the cold. Any hope that this massacre and cannibalism was unrelated to me was inevitably crushed when I saw the blood that matted my fur. The wrappings that had blunted my claws had been discarded at some point, and my arms all the way up to the elbow were crusted and mattered with so much dry blood that the original fur was hidden entirely. My fangs were stained purple-red, and furred meat was stuck between my incisors.

"...No..." I said in response, quietly twirling my claws together as I saw my body stir, white eyes opened to stare ahead as Webber woke up. "I don't think I am."