The sun bore down on the cracked, endless expanse of sand, its heat bouncing off the shimmering horizon. Caleb shifted his grip on the spear, his palms slick with sweat. The weapon felt heavier than it should have, but he refused to ease his pace or let his exhaustion show. The caravan trundled forward, a mix of creaking wooden wheels and quiet murmurs from the traders.
He kept his eyes on the ground ahead, scanning for any signs of disturbance, though part of him doubted he'd recognize danger until it was too late. A faint breeze carried the stench of dust and animal sweat, mingled with the muffled chatter of the caravan's guards. Caleb wasn't part of those conversations. Not yet.
It wasn't that they treated him poorly; they'd fed him, taught him to wield a spear, and even let him earn his keep. But every glance he caught from them was laced with a subtle wariness, a quiet question that lingered in the air: Why was he here? He couldn't answer them, not without alienating himself further.
Back home, back on Earth, he'd been a nobody. His days were a droning loop of monotony: day-in-day-out at a nothing job, in a too large city with too few friends, and no future. Here, amidst the dust and danger, Caleb had found something he hadn't even known he was searching for--purpose. He could be more than the bored warehouse worker he used to be. But purpose wasn't enough. He wanted respect, acceptance.
Ironically, he found himself stuck moving heavy shipping containers in this new world almost as often as before. His fingers tightened on the spear. If only something would happen. He hated the thought, but it clung to him like the heat of the desert. He wanted an attack, a moment of chaos and danger. If the caravan was ambushed--if he could fight, defend these people--then maybe they'd finally see him as one of them. Maybe he'd see himself that way, too.
For now, all he could do was keep walking, his shadow stretching long and thin across the sand. Above, the sun sank toward the horizon, and the desert grew a little quieter.
As night began to fall, the caravan started to make camp. Caleb joined the guards, helping to set up a perimeter and keep watch. The guards were more relaxed now, their vigilance not as high now that they were a full day's travel closer to home, but Caleb remained tense. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, that they were being watched. It was the same feeling he had on those first few nights, before he was discovered by the caravaneers, stalked by the chimeric denizens of this world. Demons.
Caleb separated himself from the other guards, feeling himself unable to share their mirth. The night's in the world always seemed to stretch on, long and cold, a stark contrast to the oppressive heat of the day. Caleb walked at the very edge of the campfire's glow, the shaft of his spear resting on his shoulder. His eyes darted between the caravan wagons and the desert's endless darkness, the shifting dunes lit faintly by foreign constellations and the vast moon too large to be Earth's. The other guards whispered to each other behind him, their voices low and indifferent, but Caleb's unease was growing.
That feeling was growing. Something was wrong, and it made a spot on the back of his hand tingle.
He wasn't sure if it was just the faint skittering sounds the desert seemed to produce, now barely audible over the crackling fire, or the way the shadows seemed to move just beyond the edges of his vision, his eyes conjuring shapes as he looked into the void.
"Is this the road this caravan normally takes?" He muttered, loud enough for the others to hear but quiet enough to avoid drawing attention to his nerves.
The guards nodded, uninterested, and Caleb moved down the column of wagons, his boots crunching softly against the sand.
As he approached the last wagon, he saw it--a faint shimmer in the moonlight. A wagon wheel had sunk slightly into the sand in a way that seemed off, the ground bending to its weight. He crouched, holding his breath, and saw the glint of silken threads stretched taut across the sand, nearly invisible.
A trap of some kind?
Before he could call out a warning, a sharp, vibrating twang echoed through the night. The wagon jolted, its wheel suddenly yanked down into a hollow beneath the sand. Caleb sprang back as sticky, silken threads snapped upward, attaching to the wagon's underside, tossing crates to the ground as it teeters unevenly.
He turned to shout for help, but the words froze in his throat. A figure emerged from the darkness, moving with a languid grace that was unnerving against the stillness of the desert.
She was beautiful in a way that made Caleb's stomach churn--her pale skin glistened faintly in the moonlight, her flowing silver hair framing a sly, sharp smile. But as she moved closer, he saw the truth: her lower half was monstrous, a black, spindly mass of spider legs emerging from her truly monstrously large torso.
"Well, well," the woman said, her voice a melodic purr that sent shivers down Caleb's spine. "I was wondering if anyone would notice my little gift. You've got sharp eyes, human."
"Who--what are you?" Caleb stammered, raising his spear.
She tilted her head, her smile widening. "I'm Ginko, little one. And tonight, I'm here to see if you and your friends are worth my time. Go ahead, scream for them. I do hope they put up a fight."
The silk strands shimmered again, and Caleb realized too late that they were not just attached to the wagon. They spread outward in a wide web, nearly invisible, creeping toward the guards' camp, causing destruction he couldn't see without taking his eyes off her. As he took a defensive step back, Ginko's laughter filled the air--a low, taunting sound that promised no mercy.
His fellow guards clambered without further warning before, each in various states of preparedness, pointing their spears up as they formed a deadly circle. She smiled wryly, keenly aware of how none of the men dared approach her closer than twice the length of their reaching weapons. Caleb could see fear, tiredness and confusion in their ranks, even bewilderment; as though the existence of such an intimidatingly large creature was unimaginable, even to the natives of this place. Caleb spit, a nervous grin spreading involuntarily on his face as he edged forward. This was the exact thing he'd wished for. He couldn't back down now, not without feeling somehow responsible for conjuring this creature into existence.
Caleb gathered his courage, meeting Ginko's piercing black eyes, eight in total, with a defiant stare of his own. He nodded curtly at the guards surrounding him, "What are we waiting for, an invitation?"
Ginko's smile widened, revealing a row of sharp fangs. "Go ahead," she purred.
With a sudden burst of speed, she darted forward, weaving between the guards' spears with ease. She blew past Caleb, who raised the haft of his weapon ineffectually against an unseen force that knocked him to the ground. He quickly leapt to his feet, but Ginko was nowhere to be seen. That was until he looked over to the next closest wagon, seeing her tall, eight legged silhouette poised high, backlit by a massive moon.
"If you're that fast, you could've stolen anything you wanted whether we were here or not." Caleb shouted out to her, feeling frustrated at having his moment stolen from him. "What the hell do you want?"
Ginko chuckled darkly, the sound echoing through the demoralized defenders.
"What do I want?" She repeated, her voice low and dangerous. "Why, I want you."
With that, she leapt from the wagon, landing gracefully in front of Caleb.
