The boy stared at the unconscious girl curiously. She had unexpectedly gone limp. A morbid thought occurred to him as he cautiously approached.

Is she dead?

She looked incredibly fragile in the dim light of the setting sun, and he dreaded touching her would prove his concerns were justified. He glanced between the girl and basket of herbs, trying to decide what to do. If he took only the girl, his father would be angry for leaving the basket, but he couldn’t abandon the girl alone on the road. He grabbed the jar from the ground with two fingers and placed it in the basket, quickly withdrawing his hand afterward, as if the arachnid might poison him through the glass.

He lifted her bare foot and jerked back in astonishment. Her feet were lacerated and covered in blood; thorns were embedded in her swollen flesh. He realized she needed serious medical attention.

He pulled out as many thorns as he could before looping the handle of the basket over her ankle. He then stood up slowly and lifted her in his arms. He was shocked by how incredibly light she was, and her bones protruded through the tattered dress. He shivered, partly because he was cold and partly because he felt like he was carrying a corpse. Her long hair brushed against his arm and dangled like a golden waterfall against his side, although it was as matted and dirty as the rest of her. He wondered where she’d come from. He’d never seen anyone with blonde hair before, although he’d heard stories about the creators and Guardians being blessed with golden tresses.

Please don't be dead, he begged silently.

He ran as fast as he could, his precious cargo bouncing in his arms, up the dusty path to the log cabin on the hill and burst through the ancient wooden door. An old man was sitting at the kitchen table inside, his white hair and stern expression reflecting in the candlelight as he focused on mending a pair of threadbare trousers. At the crash of the door, he jolted up, and his chair whacked into the counter. The copper pots and pans hanging from above clanged together noisily from the disruption.

“Terrin, you scared me to death! Why on Incari--oh my." The older man stopped to evaluate the situation. “Set her down on the table, son. What happened? Who is she?”

Terrin stared at the limp girl lying on the table.

“I don't know. I found her lying on the road.” Terrin wasn’t sure why he lied, but he wasn’t sure what had happened to the girl before he showed up, either. His father was the healer for the small border village of Glan’ak and had taught him how to find medicinal plants as soon as he was old enough to speak. He knew the woods well, so Ramer regularly sent him to gather supplies on his own. He had been on his way home with the day’s harvest when he spotted the girl with that knife in her hands.

He stiffened.

The dagger! He bolted out the door without a moment's notice.

“Terrin? What are you doing?” Ramer screamed after him. It was darker outside, and the wind cut through his clothing. He shivered as he ran to the road and skidded to a stop where he had picked up the girl. He could still see the outlines in the dirt from her body and his tracks leading to the house. He knelt and traced the pattern the dagger made as it tumbled and saw the imprint in the dust where it came to rest. But that was all that was left.

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The dagger had vanished.

Terrin checked the surrounding area again, but the dagger was nowhere to be found. He returned to his house, trying to figure out how it vanished into thin air.

Where did it go?

He had only been gone for about ten minutes. Assuming someone came and found it was like assuming the royal family from the Land of Snow was coming to visit them.

Could she have been followed?

“Terrin! Get in here. You're letting the bugs in," his father yelled from inside the cabin. He shook his head and shut the creaky door behind him.

“What was all that about?”

“I thought I dropped something outside.”

Ramer gave him a skeptical look, and Terrin shifted his eyes to peek behind his father. The girl wasn't on the table anymore.

“Where is she?” he asked, changing the subject.

“I moved her to your room. I have other people to attend to tomorrow, so you’ll have to take care of her.”

Terrin nodded.

“What's wrong with her? Is she desiccated?”

Ramer gave him a curious glance.

“Where did you pick up all these fancy words recently?”

Terrin shifted his feet and stared at the floor, trying to seem interested in the dirt while he casually confessed, “I've been listening to people talk in the marketplace. The foreign traders know a lot.”

Ramer looked at Terrin strangely before begrudgingly accepting the explanation. Terrin internally sighed in relief. Ramer had always told him a healer was well spoken but not overeducated. They only needed an understanding of nature and the ability to make potions using available flora and fauna. All other knowledge was a pointless waste of space. Ramer wanted Terrin to take over as town healer after his death, but Terrin wanted more than the small town had to offer him. Although he knew he should be content with his station in life, he’d always felt out of place, like a thistle in a flower garden. Ramer knew this; Terrin was sure.

“She's severely dehydrated, exhausted, slightly frostbitten, and starving. She hasn't eaten in a week at least. Her feet look like she's walked over broken glass, and she has infected cuts all over her body. This whole affair is strange.”

Terrin wondered what on Incari had driven her there. Normally, little girls didn't wander through the woods, starving and armed. Her speech had also shocked him. He had never met anyone around his age, especially someone younger, who spoke so eloquently and knew words like “physically” and “mentally”. He was about to go up to his room when his father stopped him.

“I still have a question for you.”

“I told you I don't know anything about her.”

“No, not about her,” Ramer said as he reached over and picked up the jar with the spider inside. “About this."

Terrin did his best to keep his expression blank as he stared at the spider.

“Where did you get this?”

Terrin thought he saw a flash of fear in the older man's eyes, but it was gone before he could be sure.

“I found it in the woods. I've never seen one like it before, so I brought it back," he said, afraid to tell Ramer the truth.

“You shouldn’t have brought it back.” His reaction perplexed Terrin.

“But you always tell me to bring back new insects in case—”

“Forget what I said! If you ever see one of these again, come home immediately and make sure to leave it well behind. I want you to avoid the region where you found it from now on. It's not safe there anymore.”

Ramer’s face was covered in shadow, but Terrin was certain he saw terror now. Without another word, Ramer turned and walked over to the cutting board, where he picked up a large knife. In one swift movement, he opened the jar, dropped the spider out, and chopped it in half with a surprisingly loud crunch. To Terrin's astonishment, he then opened the front door and threw the knife, the dead insect, and the wooden board into the dark forest. Terrin heard the distant thud of the objects hitting the ground before Ramer slammed the door.

“I was afraid you found it with that girl. I’m glad she had nothing to do with it, or we would’ve had to take serious precautions.”

“I found it before I found her, so don't worry about that,” Terrin said, trying not to sound suspicious. “I think I'm going to go to bed now. Goodnight."

He turned away and headed up the stairs, a knot forming in his stomach. Whatever that spider was, it was not good news.

What was he going to do to her if I’d told him where it really came from?

Terrin walked up the stairs slowly, pondering the question and all its dark implications.