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The next day, Gorthorn watched the spider as he read some papers the king had given him. If he was thrown by Gorthorn's actions, he'd hidden it very well. Yet, he had met his eyes even less often than he already did, and even cringed away from him now and again. Though the king was sure that wasn't entirely due to their encounter- hanging around a dragonkin wasn't always easy for the small animal. He was just noticing it more now that he badly wanted the doctor to be at ease again and forget about the whole thing.

Though, a thought pulled at his mind again, of the doctor dancing around him. He figured that was harmless enough a daydream. He let himself get swept up, following the doctor's movements on his own feet in his mind's eye.

Suddenly Gorthorn leapt back from him in reality.

"What? What is it?"

The part-dragon knew he must look pained to the spider.

"This is a predator thing, isn't it?"

"It's just a stray thought, not going to bother with it."

"Why don't you want to tell me?"

Gorthorn looked down and his paws opened and closed, claws in and out, trying to decide if it was worth it.

"It's all right. Whatever it is." The spider said.

The part-feline closed his eyes.

Then looked at him.

His mental prance had turned into a pounce.

"I just wondered if my mouth would fit around your entire neck."

The spider was quite clearly schooling his reaction. Gorthorn recognized that unnatural stillness that almost all predators and a handful of other species learned as the other man processed. His face went intentionally blank. Concealment. Camouflage of the mind. Freeze. Being figuratively 'open,' like being literally out in an open field, whether alone or in ranks, was sometimes just as dangerous.

A rhyme his father sang to him came to mind.

If you stay open

And unfocused

Have you ever seen a snake crouch

And hypnotize a mouse?

Well, humans will sing you to sleep

Music calms a savage beast

They have beautiful voices, hon

But don't get caught in that web, run.

And, a rabbit's song,

The predators

can smell your fear dear.

I know it's hard to hear.

But it only serves to arouse their senses

If you can, calm it.

If not,

Freeze.

Breathe.

Slowly.

Let them sniff you out

Watch their eyes. Read them. Cock your ears

Bolting may be

What you have to do

But that is a risk, too.

For chasing for them is impulsive

Watch their body language

You are not in danger

If anger

Or ill intent

is not present.

For many the fear is akin to pleasant

Drinking in the scent

For others it makes them ashamed

So help them if you can.

They are merely drawn to

And they will not harm you

They will do everything in their power

Staring down death

Is our bravery

I only wish we

Could teach the humans

When their hearts start to pound

All that's needed is to ground

When their heart beats a warning

Like our Echoing Earth-stomping feet

But you are in control,

I'm here to teach.

Don't let the panic mount.

Be present

Be the observer.

A calm lion

Will adopt a baby calf

If ze sees fit

Even the non-sapients do it

Though they don't know how to care for them

Poor dears.

And have you ever seen

A lion stroll lazily

right by a zebra's herd

Swishing zeir tail

When ze has already been sated

The mute horse's cousins watch nearby

With nary a worry

"Well, there's only one way to find out, right?" the spider said.

Gorthorn's mind blanked. "WHAT?"

What the 'trus, he swore internally.

"That is to say . . . " the spider, if possible, began to look even more forcibly calm, though his voice was definitely doing something funny. "Was it just how you were feeling? Or are you also actually curious? Inquiring minds and all of that. It seems a harmless enough experiment," the scientist said simply. "You're not . . . mad at me . . . for turning you down . . . are you?"

"No. Not really."

"Then what's the danger?"

If Gorthorn were human, the already white monster would have turned white.

"Oh, oh, oh, Wing. If you- 'TRUS."

The air-empowered man literally jumped four feet at the unexpected monster dialect curse from the other gentleman. A tiny 'jumping spider,' had they been sapient, might have envied the scientist's defiance of physics without any effort whatsoever, though they could- proportionately- jump much higher.

Gorthorn's eyes roamed the room, as if looking for a way to explain without terrifying him more. He recalled hunts with his father, experimenting to see if he could walk on all fours. Every different chimera had an individualized process for learning locomotion. He remembered watching a non-sapient rabbit's ears flick towards him and away, trying to ferret him out. "Have you ever put a piece of chocolate in your mouth, and tried to let it melt, but you got impatient and bit into it anyway?"

" . . . y-yes." the shaken man replied.

"You-" his eyes teared up and his voice thickened like rich indulgent molasses, tawny and translucent to feeling, "You are so much more important than a piece of chocolate." He tried to stifle the embarrassment of such a display. Just the thought of replacing the doctor with any rabbit he had bitten into- thrashing against his mouth- the taste of raw flesh belonging to the man standing next to him-

That was enough to make anyone break down, right? He couldn't help that. Horror seeped through his body, invading every corner of his skin.

The spider's shield was shaken now, so he could read that first his face glowed, then he looked blankly thoughtful, and at last, just a slight cringe of apprehension.

His words perfectly reflected each of the three. "T-thank you. That means a lot. It was weird picturing it, but I think I want to try."

"Why on earth?" The doctor clearly did not understand the situation, his rapidly firing brain told him. Not in the least. He tried to extract the thought, but it just kept running. Would he snap his neck quickly? Would he just hold him in his jaws, unwilling to let go? Would he let him go, but have the desire to take him up again?

Would there be blood?

Associations popped up of their own accord. Coherent thoughts broke into bits and scurrying snatches.

Blood.

Coppery. Delicious.

No.

Oh 'trus, he swore, 'trus, 'trus, 'trus-

-the throat of a deer beat wearily against his tongue-

-a gurgling cry escaped-

-automatic-

-go for the throat-

-"Do you know some animals have started farming like humans?" he asked his mother-

-"Ridiculous."-

-"Pleeease can I have a garden? Father says I can"-

-terror, the smell of terror-

-the young spider was a strange new thing, but he smelled like prey-

He was not going to be eating anything uncooked or undrained for a while, he was sure.

Not many remembered the days of hunting bare-paw.

The immortal was one of the few that still ate raw.

He hadn't chased anything down for ages.

The thought of having a live being between his teeth again-

Some combination of dratted thrill and more appropriate queasiness settled in after the initial surge of pure, unadulterated alarm.

The spider said sardonically, "Don't you mean 'why in your green garde-"

"I'm not playing around here, Wing," the part-feline barked, cutting off the phrase that people used to express 'what the-'

Now he just seemed confused by his anger. "Well, think of it this way. Have you ever dove off of a waterfall-"

Gorthorn let out a half-sob.

"What? What did I say? I'm sorry. I'll just drop it."

Gorthorn put his head in his paws as the sentence brought up a memory of his son. The cub shook his paws as he touched water gingerly, and then later pushed reeds back and forth with telementaling while soaked through. "Aspen's first dive off the waterfall was the most thrill he would ever have in this hole."

"Oh, oh, Sire. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"I know. It's just where my mind went."

He sniffed and silently cried for a moment, now heedless of covering anything up. The double punch of the two sorrows was too much.

"D-don't make me put y-you in danger, t-too." Gorthorn pleaded. "E-especially when I'm the threat."

"I see, I see." The spider soothed. "I guess I've seen you progress so much since I met you, I-" he shrugged, looked down at the floor, though his middle eye seemed to peek shyly up at him, "don't think of it being a problem as much anymore."

"I mean, if you wanted to put numbers to it," Gorthorn said shakily, "Since you're so fond of them, I'd guess there's about a 18% chance, but, that's way past breaking the scale of worth it."

"Absolutely. The weigh scale on that transaction to convert currency to metal would need me to tinker with it to fix it."

Gorthorn laughed as the spider strung out his metaphor and added in literal meaning, too.

"Not worth what I'd get out of it."

Again, Gorthorn blanked. But this time, his "What?" was more even.

"When you said that, I got this sensation, like . . . well, that's what I was using the waterfall comparison for. The falling sensation in the stomach. It's like diving off a waterfall, and trusting there aren't rocks at the bottom, because your friends are down there pointing out where the deep and safe part is."

"That . . . is pretty interesting." Gorthorn reflected.

"But still not worth it."

"No." Gorthorn said seriously. ""I'll tell you something. All these proceedings are kept away from prey ears, but flay that- I've told you plenty, before, and I'll continue to do so. You want to know something about the predator courts, little spider? Where an injury is just as important, in determining a case, as how bad it is. If it is a charge of normal battery, a flank is not so bad. But, a strike to the trunk of the body, or a throat is a lesser crime. It is indicative that instincts were involved. However, if the defendant is highly trained in martial arts, the trunk is a greater one, as it shows intention to harm. More nuance follows after that if the creature has claws or was using chi point strikes. You know what increases that 18% chance? If it is a charge of murder, sex is suspected to be involved, and the throat is crushed? There is virtually no way out of prison. Death penalty is almost certain, as well."

He rubbed the top of his nose. "The terrible part of it is, sometimes it's not even instinct. You've clenched your teeth while being intimate before, right?"

Wing was looking at the floor. "Yes."

"And everyone knows the throat is an erogenous zone. But- we always must be conscious, aware, focused, not worked up when we-"

He swallowed.

"I don't know if you've specifically thought about the fact that-" he hated bringing up his ill-fated advance, but- "When I- um- overstepped my bounds with you- I still never put my teeth on your neck. Just nosed against it." His lips smoked. "Some things are just not done. And if anyone breaks that taboo, they have more than just white courts' notes on their hands. Or, should I say, their teeth."

Anachronistic Arachnid Number 84 -Video Chat- Anachronistic Arachnid Number 20

Hmmm, Number 20, that's . . . actually odd to hear that he refused. I wouldn't have expected it. Why not? Well- let me tell you- first of all-

Humans- just- won't- sit- down at a peace summit with a f~~~ing dragon!

They don't believe he's sapient enough.

They think any minute he's going to reach out and eat one of them. As if!

He's a little grumpy sometimes but my- our?- grandfather used to tell me stories about dragons that would keep me up at night. It's like, what, do we need to summon one of THOSE and then have Gorthorn rescue you from them for you to get the picture? Ugh. I shouldn't tempt myself. That probably wouldn't be possible, you know, to reach that far in the past . . . heh . . .

And h~~~ if I am going to meet you walking natural disasters without him there. You could squash me like- well. A spider.

. . .

I've seen the timelines. When they mount a squad and capture me, they don't squash me, they do worse. Much worse.

And even if Gorthorn's men infiltrate and get me back, he's already gone on a rampage that-

And when I play ambassador over here they think he's intimidated me into it

Because yeah, I actually do flinch when a giant wing brushes past me

Don't you flinch just a little bit when your horse suddenly moves its large head

After all, it could crush your foot not even meaning to

Or your Great Dane beats against you in its earnestness to play

He outweighs you.

He could knock you into a table

and you could hit your head.

Trust me when I say

I am safer sitting in the jaws of that dragon than you will ever be with non-sapients.

Like a lion cub in its pointed mother's mouth.

I do it every time to prove it. But no.

All they see is a beast.

I'm trying to study the psychological effects of the souls on him, Number 20, but it's hard to get a bead on it. Sometimes, he seems to have this depth of wisdom that I never would have thought possible, since he was . . . already so amazing.

No, really, I mean it. I know that's hard to picture. Heh.

But. There's another side of the coin, too. He's . . . you know what, I don't want to burden you with all of this. You have enough to worry about, and I have other Doctors that can give me better advice and support about it. No offense, of course! You enjoy yourself over there. All right?

As for your experience today, In your case I think it's just . . . I don't know- immediacy- of it that makes it dangerous.

Food chemists have something they call "mouth feel." Yeah, I know, stupid name, right? But, it means, the texture of the food. That in itself is enticing. They find that if something tastes good, but it has a weird texture, you still won't like it. Whereas I think if it has a good mouth feel, that can outweigh a neutral or bad taste. They are constantly trying to find ways to hook and trick people into buying their products. I'm actually rather impressed with all the manipulative marketing strategies. Pretty much every industry has them. They have it finely honed, down to an art and science, and the public never seems to catch on that they're being played every single second of every single day. Heh. There's actually a massive amount of money involved. Why not just go eat a piece or fruit instead, silly humans, ha. You could even grow your own in your backyard, for Gor's sake. Ach, sorry, I shouldn't take Our Lord's Name in vain.

They toss perfectly good seeds in the trash after they eat. And then spend money for more fruit. Bizarre, huh?

Unfortunately we haven't had enough time to establish our own fruit groves yet, as fruit trees do take a long time to mature, but Gorthorn's huge garden out here is just breathtaking, Number 20. The pumpkins will be ready to harvest soon. Plotting out places for a huge dragon to walk through has been quite an interesting geometrical exercise, haha. Unfortunately he can't eat vegetables quite as much anymore, but he uses them as flavors anyway. Watching a white dragon roll in a field of wildflowers or wind himself up around a tree in a swirl isn't something I'd trade for the world. I'll send you some videos of it all. Know that once you get out of there, you'll have so much to look forward to.

Oh . . . that's right. You aren't immortal. I'd forgotten that wrinkle, old chum. Sorry! Didn't mean to make you sad. I'm just glad I didn't have to kill any humans to get it.

But, rest assured, your universe won't end up going to war, as we have, because- well- we already discussed that. I'll make sure of it. I've headed that off in most timelines.

Talk to you later.

*click*

The humans aren't getting any better about Gorthorn . . .

I really don't see a way out of this.

What if I'm the guy who enables

. . .

Genocide?

That's stupid, Issstedl, get a grip on yourself, man.

Gorthorn is in control

I mean, he didn't take my advice to hang back in that last maneuver but

But that was his decision

He's the King