Settling down to the ground against Bastet, I close my eyes and drop into my Core space. A cursory glance at Tame reveals the new complexity to it, though since it didn’t change significantly, the new additions are limited to a few more woven threads adding to its complexity.

However, my aim isn’t Tame, but the Skill that sits right next to it. By this point, I’m a lot more familiar with my Core space than the first time I accessed it, and I’ve realised that the pathway I followed before into Fenrir’s mind actually originates in the depths of Dominate.

Threads spool out of the Skill, winding and weaving with the rest of the golden tapestry, easily mistaken for just another thread of the whole. Moving ever outward, they are some of the strings which trail off into nothingness. Except, I’ve come to recognise, they don’t disappear – I am just unable to see their whole length.

However, when it comes to my Bound, I’m able to feel it.

Mentally touching each of the five threads that stem from my Dominate Skill, one of which stems from the golden weave of Companion Bond that wraps around Dominate rather than the centres of Dominate itself, I dismiss the ones which lead to River, the kiinas, and Bastet. Once I find the one for Fenrir, however, I start running my mind along it, doggedly following it out of my Core space.

Here is the difficult moment. I did it by accident all that time ago, but intentionally doing it doesn’t seem to be as simple. I’m limited by my Core space, unable to move past it and through the Bond into Fenrir’s mind.

Frustration builds: this is important! I don’t want to be taking my Bound into the fight completely blind! Especially when I know that this is possible;

Realising that the frustration is probably actively impeding my continued efforts, I take a moment to pull on Meditation. I’m not in it properly, only Light Meditation at most, but I use its calming and pacifying techniques to bring a bit more clarity to my mind.

Maybe I’m overthinking this? Maybe because I’m expecting it to be difficult…it is? When I did it before, I had no idea what I was doing. I just…did it. Maybe I need to do the same now.

Easier said than done, but I draw heavily on Meditation to keep my mind smooth and placid as I slide down the Bond once more. No fear, no worry, no anger disrupts the peacefulness of my mental presence. I do my best not to even pay attention to exactly how far along the Bond I’ve got. I just…move.

And then suddenly, I realise that I’m not in my own mind any more.

It’s not the same sensation as before. Last time, when I entered Fenrir, I became part of his thoughts, almost losing my own sense of self as I was drowned in his mind. This time, that doesn’t happen.

Maybe it’s because I’m using Meditation to calm my own mental presence: it may have the side-effect of keeping my mind distinct as well. Or perhaps it’s because I’m expecting it to happen, so I don't get immediately submerged in Fenrir’s personality.

Either way, I find that what I’ve gained in clarity of my own mind, I’ve lost in Fenrir’s. Before, it was like I was Fenrir, receiving the information from his senses like I was him, thinking like I was him, reacting like I was him.

Now, I’m a bystander. I sense his emotions, but cannot see out of his eyes. It’s more like what we had during our Battle of Wills, actually. Hmm, a thought for later, perhaps…. But for now, I need to get the information I came for.

Fenrir? I ask. We’re still a little too far from the cave for our normal mental communication to work – that’s pretty short-range and I didn’t want to get close enough to the cave that we might end up provoking the spider creature prematurely.

The lizog is fearful, hungry, in pain, and a little angry. But mostly fearful. It’s not terror – it feels like he’s been through terror and that’s worn thin, leaving only a deep dread behind. He doesn’t seem to think that there is any hope – does he not realise that we would definitely come to rescue him?

His emotions are so strong that he doesn’t respond to my mental voice – I sense that it’s been unable to penetrate his fear-filled mind.

Fenrir, can you hear me? I ask with a little more force. Still nothing.

‘Reaching out’ with my mental presence – something I do automatically and try not to wonder how it works – I stroke his mind as I would his body. Fenrir, we’re here, we’ve come to rescue you.

I repeat similar platitudes while also trying to send a sense of calm and peace at him. I can only liken it to a fearful animal or child who’s curled up with their hands over their ears and their eyes screwed shut, hoping that if they ignore the world, the world will ignore them too. As I keep going with my calming strategies, though, the tight-curl unwinds a little, hands pulling away from ears and eyes opening.

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When he realises that I’m there, Fenrir doesn’t respond in words, but sensations. If we were physically present together, I think I would have been bowled over considering the enthusiasm with which his mental presence knocks into mine.

Relief, joy, longing, all of that hits with almost enough force to almost push my mind out of his body entirely. Since that is the last thing I want to happen right now, I try to send more calming vibes to him.

Yes, we’re here to rescue you, I confirm, but we need information from you first. Just to check, you can hear me now, right? The wave of confirmation from Fenrir is enough to verify that. OK, can you show me exactly what you’ve seen since you entered the cave?

The lizog shoves a memory at me and I go silent as I focus on viewing it.

I swing below the body of a powerful predator. I feel woozy and weak, having only just woken from an unexpected sleep. I try to shift, but my body is not responding to me. I am trapped within bindings, pinned almost completely against the belly of my captor.

Even as I start getting control back over my limbs, they remain weak; the best I can do is try to scrabble against the sticky ropes binding me. I even try to chew them, but my powerful jaws aren’t sufficient to free me, the bindings flexing and resisting the crushing power and sharpness of my teeth.

I can see little, trapped under the creature’s belly as I am, but I realise when we have entered a cave by the way the floor and light level change. I see little around me, even after my eyes have quickly adapted to the dimmer light. There are empty caves, and many areas covered with the white material which still holds me to my captor’s body.

Then we stop. I feel movement along my sides, and the white bindings, which had resisted everything I could try, tear easily away. I fall to the ground, my slow and weak limbs unable to break my descent. Landing heavily, I feel pain, but nothing serious.

I wish to leap to my feet and attack my captor, but my body still refuses to follow my desires. Instead, my feet scrabble uselessly against the stone floor below me. I growl, the sound of frustration just as useless in deterring my captor. I want my pack!

The powerful predator above me shifts and I suddenly feel intense pain pierce my flank. Even when the creature shifts again, the pain does not vanish, but instead continues to throb.

Then a leg comes and shoves me sideways. I roll into a side cave, an area a bit bigger than I am, but not a lot. Still unable to do more than scratch at the ground and bite the air, I watch as my captor starts layering on the bindings. I’m left in almost complete darkness, only a faint glow allowed through the white material covering the entrance to my cave permitting me to see anything.

In time I get the strength in my limbs back, but it does me no good. The material blocking the entrance to the cave is as impenetrable as always, and the small space allows me little opportunity to build up a charge.

I am equally unable to do anything about the pain in my flank, which continues to throb. The creature has left more of its binding over my flank, and I am unable to shift it off. I’ve even caused damage to myself in my attempts to chew it away, but short of gnawing a hole through my own flesh, I am unlikely to succeed.

That doesn’t stop me trying, though.

I pull myself out of the memory with an almost audible gasp. Apparently viewing things from my Bound’s point of view while in their mind means pretty much reliving the memory. Good for information purposes, yes, but it takes a moment for my mind to resettle as Markus rather than some Markus-Fenrir hybrid.

I need to discuss this with the others.

Thanks Fenrir, I tell the lizog, trying to give him a mental pat while sending approval at him. Even hungry, tired, and in pain, he perks up at that. I’m going to go for now, but we’ll get you out as soon as we can, OK?

The sense of faith and joy with which he meets that is enough to bring a tear to my eye – if I could cry in this kind of mental space, anyway.

How to leave is another question, but in the end I find it is just as simple as arriving. Thinking too hard about it only puts obstacles in my way – what turns out to work is just relaxing and willing myself to be back in my body. And then…I am.

Opening my eyes, I turn to my anxious-looking Bound.

“OK, so this is what Fenrir saw…”

When I’m finished, there’s silence as they digest what I’ve told them.

I recognise this creature, River says suddenly. Though I thought it only to be legend.

I look over at him in interest.

“Tell me?” I invite.

The spider-monster is a figure of fear. Brood-mothers tell misbehaving hatchlings that if they do not do their chores, or are lazy when gathering resources, they will be taken by it. Taken back to its lair where they will be implanted with its eggs and meet an end as meat for its spawn. I…didn’t think it was real.

He sounds horrified. I don’t blame him – I’m pretty uncomfortable with this whole thing myself. I mean, that a creature might implant others with their eggs is understandable – lots of insects do it on Earth. That a much larger insect – even if it’s not actually an insect at all – might do the same to much larger prey is equally logical.

And it does explain why the creature might have kidnapped Fenrir in the first place: it wants fresh meat for its offspring, not dead. But that does mean we’re on a bit of a timeline – it must be due to hatch soon.

Why do I think that? Because it’s trapped its prey in a small space with no food or water. If we didn’t come to rescue Fenrir, he would die of dehydration within a few days. In that time, he would also consume some of his own body to keep going through a starved state. That would in turn mean less food for the hatchling.

So no, I don’t think it will take very long for the hatchling to emerge – perhaps it has already. Which means we need to get Fenrir out – and the hatchling in turn – PDQ.

But how?