"Oh? What’s this?" shivers crawl up your spine at the low baritone that was Khecax’s gravelly voice. Your constant struggling sent vibrations of your movements to the drider, managing to awaken him from his dormant sleep and out of his den, his arachnid legs cling onto the delicately spun silk, stalking ever so closer to your wriggling form.

Khecax's eyes glowed like red fireflies in the night, peering down at you curiously. You're all tangled in his sticky webs, unable to pry yourself off. It’s a familiar sight, reminding him of his prey attempting to flee. A pathetic one, at that. Every single one of his meals are the same, attempting to put up a fight; to escape his inescapable prison of intricate weavings in their fright, begging him to let him go. Though this time, he is granted with an adorable little plaything to toy with in the meantime.

"I wasn’t expecting a snack this late in the evening." he drawls.

The drider slowly ambles closer. Behind him and out of the silken nest he’s woven, a multitude of tiny spiderlings watch from the thin fibers, eager to see their father’s newly caught prey in interest. You can’t hear them speak, and they look so different from the monster—man—in front of you, resembling the looks of actual spiders you often crushed under your foot back at home. Judging by the fact that they haven’t eaten you yet like how Khecax planned to do, it seems that his children have taken a liking to you, something that’d never happened. They were always so hungry; you’d think that at least their mother would be spared.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing so deep within these forests?"