During all of the midnight hours of the previous fortnight, and suffocating under the resentment of my failures with herbal medicine, my frustration over our indefinitely deferred love rite, I discovered art. Not art as Furi produced it, but with my own medium and in my own way.

I wove Furi a dress. In the end, it was a disappointment. The work was too personal for me to confess it to her, and, I decided, finished without the skill I had hoped for when I began the attempt. I wouldn’t give it to Furi but slipped it into my cabinet. I would show it to her someday, if I could raise the courage, or if she was determined to find it on her own, then so be it. The cabinet was open.

All this was decided, and then our conflict escalated to that stilted garden confrontation. I couldn’t stay in the house as an object of pressure and torment to Furi. Abandoning the house and Furi in that way was little better, however. I had given way to anger and defeat. Both emotions crowded in my mind, clouding thought and frustrating decision. I couldn’t force the situation. Had already undeceived her, but somewhere between my dual nature of humanity and arachnid, a possible solution presented itself.

I stayed aloof for days, never far away, only distancing myself to see what Furi would do. It didn’t take long for her to put aside concerns of privacy. Just as well, though I shrank a bit to watch her judge my weaving handiwork. Whatever my limitations, it looked well on her. The dress fit like a second skin. But my filaments were meant to wrap and never unwrap. There was the difficulty. The dress’s removal would take time, procedure, and a salve only I knew how to apply.

* * *

Stolen novel; please report.

She met me at the genkan, and I stopped at the sight of her. My pulse elevated, eyes dilated, blood poured into my large motor muscles. Any child would run, but a man couldn’t. I stood immobile.

She lifted her chin, mounting a dignity that exceeded everything, both Earth Kumo or human, I had ever seen. My knees almost collapsed beneath me.

“Was this what you meant when you said you would use every technique of persuasion?”

I cleared my tightened throat. “It wasn’t quite fair; I admit. And some day I might be capable of feeling shame for having resorted to it.”

“You asked me not to open your cabinet. I see why now. Once having seen your work, I was hypnotized.

“I can sympathize with the feeling. I must say; I wove it precisely, didn’t I?”

“You made it well. I cannot get out of it.” she said, tugging at the seam.

“Nor will you be able to,” I paused, “without help.” Then I stopped short of her, waiting for her consent.

She sighed, “What does a cornered moth say? I am your prey.” She made this concession, but not without bitterness, and it disarmed me. I couldn’t look at her again. When I spoke, my voice was cold. “We have one chance. I won’t spend it this way.”

She groaned, “I don’t know how to navigate this path.”

I shook my head. “It was my mistake. I will free you, but I am afraid it will take a little time, and it will be difficult for both of us.”

* * *

If she had asked me again, I would have handed her my life, but the trap was unfair, and she never spoke another word.

Furi remained behind closed indoors, crying the floods she had forced back during the night, while I took my revenge on what remained of the dress next morning, swallowing the fibers like rice. Over this bitter repast, I mulled over the events of the past month. Finally, I decided.

We’d failed…I’d failed. It was time to acknowledge and move forward. My uncle would need to have my report. My brothers from the outer yard needed to prepare for battle. I would join them outside of Western Capital. Sadly, I was sure the Earth Kumo would not.