Sivara Frostwhisper's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

The spider circled between them. Sivara pressed her back to a frostpine and counted what she had. Her dart bag lay behind the beast's legs. Her deer-dose poison could not pierce that armor. Seren crouched a spear-length away, spear tip glowing faint purple, and it would not matter either. "Your toxin is too weak," Sivara said. "So is mine. We need something stronger." Seren's eyes flicked past her, low to the ground. "There." A tiny cluster of mushrooms grew at the base of the frostpine. Green caps, bright yellow dots, a sick sheen to them. Even at rest they warned the eyes away. Sivara knew the myths. The green-cap toxin killed the biggest predators. It could kill the hunter who touched it too. "That mist can drop you," Sivara said. "I know the mist." Seren held up one forearm. A patch of skin stayed dark where the glow had died. "Two days numb. Scrape careful, breathe none of it." A new voice came from the frostpines behind them. "Coat only the tips. Do not let it touch your hands." Silvaeth Dreamcaller stepped from the shadow, cloak shifting indigo to rose, the crown of filaments on her scalp reading the air. She was a Helivox, a keeper of the Helium Mother's voice, and she handled these toxins in her rites. Sivara had never expected one so far from the grove. Silvaeth held out a small carved scraper. "I followed the die-off. I did not follow it to watch two hunters feed a spider." The spider lunged. Both hunters scattered. Seren rolled to the mushroom cluster, dropped their old spear, and pressed the scraper to the green gills. A faint mist rose. Seren turned their face away and worked fast. Sivara circled wide, drawing the beast's eyes, waving her arms. Green marks pulsed across its swollen belly. "Coated," Seren called. They threw the spear across the gap. Sivara caught the haft mid-air, low gravity slowing its fall. The tip shone wet and dark. The spider turned toward Seren's noise. It bunched its legs to spring. Sivara had one throw. She stepped, planted her back foot, and drove the spear down between the purple plates, into the soft belly where the green light pulsed. The tip sank deep. The spider screamed through its body, a shudder without sound. It reared, legs clawing air, then dropped. Its legs curled inward. The green marks dimmed, then went dark. It did not move again. Sivara let go of the spear. Her hands shook. Silvaeth knelt by the dead beast and studied the belly, the armor, the wound. "This did not empty three villages," she said. "It ate what came near its web. Nothing more." "Then what did?" Sivara asked. Silvaeth looked west, past the strange purple tundra. "The die-off. It spreads that way. Your stag's ground is dying, hunter. Whatever feeds on it is still out there." She pressed the scraper into Sivara's palm. "You will need this again."