It was so absurdly huge it looked like one of those Halloween decorations you buy to scare trick-or-treaters. The kind that pop out on a mechanical arm when some hapless kid just looking for candy steps on the pressure plate hidden under the doormat. Just the idea of getting anywhere near that huge, hairy, scuttling thing made my skin crawl.
But as frightened as I was of the awful giant spider, I was equally determined not to let the little seahorse die. What could I do to save it, though, I wondered as the spider skittered towards it?
The answer came in the form of a stone in the tall grass in front of me. I nearly tripped over it and when I looked down, I saw at once what I had to do.
Grabbing the large, rough rock in one hand, I threw it as hard as I could towards the fat, hairy body of the spider, just as it was extending its long front legs to grab the tangled seahorse.
My Dad used to play ball with me before The Fire—I guess because he didn’t have a son to play catch with. He swore I had a good arm and a “mean fast-ball” as he put it. I hadn’t pitched anything in over two years, but thank goodness the skill hadn’t completely deserted me.
I hit the spider squarely in the center of its furry back and sent it sprawling, back into the undergrowth around the trees. It made a sort of hissing-snarl as it went—the angry cry of a predator that has been cheated of its kill.
Sensing I didn’t have much time, I ran forward and tore at the sticky threads of the web that the flying seahorse was entangled in. It made that chiming alarm call again and I tried to reassure it as I worked.
“It’s okay, little guy, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to get you out of here,” I said, as I worked on the web—which was much tougher than any spider’s web I’d ever seen. It was like trying to break pieces of sticky dental floss, I thought—nearly impossible.
Finally, I managed to tear the web around where it was caught. The sticky strands were still all over its wings but I was afraid to try and get those off for fear of tearing the delicate, gossamer structures.
“Almost free,” I told the flying seahorse, who had at last stopped chiming in that leaning-on-the-doorbell way. “Almost out of there, little buddy.”
But the seahorse chimed again and I saw its dark, intelligent eyes roll upward.
Looking where its gaze was directed, I saw a large, black shape in the crook of two branches just above my head.
It was the spider—getting ready to pounce.
It hissed menacingly, baring fangs as long as my finger. Holy crap! My stomach did a slow forward roll—I did not want that thing on me!
Guess I didn’t hit him hard enough, I thought numbly. At that moment, the last strand of web tore free. I cupped the little flying seahorse in my arms, turned, and ran as fast as I could, just as the spider pounced.
I felt its hairy legs scrabbling at my back but I shrieked and reached behind me with my free hand—the one not holding the seahorse—to beat at it. It fell off but a quick glance back showed that it was scuttling right at my heels, its mandible-like fangs snapping angrily. Clearly it thought I was stealing its prey and it wasn’t about to let me get away with it.
“Help!” I shouted, my breath tearing in my throat as I ran as hard as I could through the tall grass. “Help!”
Suddenly Ari was there, his eyes burning gold with protective rage.
“Kaitlyn?” he asked, making my name a question.
“After…me,” I panted. “Giant…spider.”
He seemed to understand the situation at once. His eyes narrowed when he saw the thing chasing me. Just as he had in the Dining Hall back at Nocturne Academy, he opened his mouth and a gout of flame shot out.
The spider was at once engulfed in fire. It made a hissing, shrieking sound like a tea-kettle gone crazy and danced madly in a circle for a minute before flopping over on its back with its legs curled into a shriveled mass above it.
After that, it twitched once or twice and was still. The unspeakable smell of roasting hair and flesh rose from it, making me gag and I moved quickly away.
Sinking back down on the bed of leaves where we had slept that night, I realized I was still holding the shivering little flying seahorse protectively close to my chest.
“Hey, little guy,” I whispered, daring to stroke the top of his head with a single finger. “Hey, it’s okay now. He’s gone—it’s all right.”
“Are you all right?” Ari came up to me, a look of concern on his face. “I thought you were just going to wash your face. How in the world did you get mixed up with a hisser?”
“Is that what you call it?” I gave a shaky laugh that came out sounding kind of croaky. “It looked like a giant spider to me.”
“Actually, that was normal-sized for us,” he told me. Everything is bigger in the Sky Lands. Things are simply…built on a larger scale here.”
“Really?” I looked at him, wide-eyed. “Remind me to stay away from the really big spiders like tarantulas, then.” I shivered.
“Well, what were you doing near it in the first place?” he asked, frowning. “Hissers can be dangerous if they bite you—they have a really potent venom in their fangs.”
I thought of the finger-long fangs of the now-shriveled spider and felt sick when I remembered the way it had jumped on my back. If I hadn’t brushed it
