The campfire sparked to life, illuminating the plants around the cramped clearing. The space was big enough for the foliage to not catch fire, but dense enough to hide from outside view.

He hoped the rainforest wouldn’t live up to its name. The clouds they’d seen earlier didn’t look promising, but the wind may have blown them the other way. The earthy smell that preceded rain permeated the forest regardless of the weather, warded now by the smoke of the fire.

Once the fire burned strong Duval and Debora sat their shared body on a log. Duval watched the dancing flames, but he felt Debora’s side of their vision wander over the jungle.

“I’ll be glad to get out of this forest,” Debora said. “It feels cursed.”

Duval felt their mouth move as Debora spoke. She held their jaw firm; he sensed no fear from her statement. More than anything he sensed irritation from the clenched teeth, although such was common for her. The surprising aspect was the interest—he felt a distance from her words, a feigned aspect to her irritation. He supposed, given her interest in researching religions, the relation of monsters to cursed or sacred lands would interest her. Still, he felt from her more a readiness to reach a safe location than interest in research.

“Even monsters must live somewhere,” said Duval. “Though perhaps they would prefer a cursed land.”

“They can have it,” Debora said. Duval stoked the fire so it burned brighter.

“At least most dangerous animals will shrink from the fire.”

“Hopefully the dangerous monsters will, too,” Debora said. “A bear would be fine. I know how to handle a bear. A giant predatory spider is a little harder to manage.”

“Now, we don’t know that she was predatory,” Duval said.

“Duval, I love you, but sometimes you’re as naive as a dodo,” said Debora. “Spiders are predators. I don’t think she got that big eating flies.”

“Still, she didn’t seem unfriendly,” Duval said. He chuckled, but Debora clenched their mouth shut. “Sorry, but she reminded me of mama, almost. In a way, sweet and caring.”

He felt Debora scoff as her side of the body tensed.

“She did remind me of mother. She wanted to control us, like a puppet on her web.” Duval felt Debora’s side of the body tighten, history playing in her thoughts. He shouldn’t have brought her up—any memory of their parents, good or bad, was painful now. “Mother cared, I can’t say she didn’t, but she believed in her way best and hated pushback.” She sighed. “She cared for you. I don’t know that she cared for me.”

“I’m sorry,” Duval said. “I know it was rough. She clearly didn’t want us both . . . to be.”

“She would have preferred to just have you,” Debora said.

“I would never have chosen her over you, though,” Duval said.

“Oh, please,” said Debora. “You wanted to split from me as much as I wanted to from you.”

A pause. Duval wanted to say splitting had only been to remove the blemish they’d placed on their family in the community, but deep down he knew Debora was right. Yet that past had passed. He felt little reason to bring up what hurt.

“But, thank you,” Debora said. “Our feelings now are what matters. I now don’t believe she hated me, but our presence marked them in the community. We must have been a lot to handle. Even if she had hated me, I never would have wanted to . . .”

Duval could still see the last image of their house clear as the fire before them. He was sure Debora could, too, and they snapped their gaze away when he started to see their house burning in the fire. Duval was sure Debora would never have wanted to burned their house down, but he knew they both saw clear as day who started the fire as the townsfolk chased them out of town. That twisted shadow of themselves they’d somehow brought into being when they tried to separate into two bodies.

“Anyway,” Duval said. “I think that spider monster would have rather mothered us than eaten us.”

“Some of her language fit that,” Debora said, “but I just thought she wanted to lower our guards.”

“It sounded genuine,” said Duval. “But between her webs and fangs, I’m sure it was best not to stay and find out.”

“Well, a roof over our heads for the night would have been nice,” Debora said, “but not with a spider monster in a filthy mansion.” Duval gave a small chuckle.

“Now that’s a bit unfair though, it didn’t look filthy,” he said. “Covered in spider webs, yes, but it looked clean.”

Duval blinked and jumped when Debora laughed.

“Maybe she is a mother, then, if she cleans her place.”

“Consider it a quest,” said Maestra. “To prove your ability, with the use of my venom as the reward.”

Mira looked at the arrow dipped in venom. She glanced at Ainsley, who swished her eyestalks towards Maestra. She took it as an encouraging gesture.

“You want me to shoot something with this arrow?” Mira asked.

“Handing out my venom like candy isn’t such a big issue,” said Maestra. She tapped her fingers on her leg. “But your proposed use of it is—well, you wish to shoot someone with an arrow. How do you do this without injuring them?”

“I’m skilled, is how,” Mira said, twirling the arrow in her fingers. “I could hit the tail of a fish jumping out the water and leave the rest of its flesh unharmed. I will nick someone’s skin to administer the venom without further harm to them.”

“Perfect,” said Maestra, clasping two hands against her cheek, “then you can bring me the poor dears who rushed away without thought to their safety.” She crossed her other arms. “You’ll do so without harming them, and that will prove you can use the arrow safely.”

Mira smiled. All the pieces fell together.

“A hunt. You need me to hunt someone and bring them to you.” Her smile deepened, and her muscles tightened and tail fluttered. She felt the excitement of a hunt. “This I can do.”

One of the pieces bumped off another, and Mira frowned.

“Wait. You said ‘dears’. There are more than one? You gave me one arrow.”

“There are two of them,” Maestra said. “But only one body to catch.”

“They share a body?” Mira asked.

“That seems to be the case,” said Maestra. “They seemed to be of two minds, but sadly neither mind would let a poor, sweet, lonely, old mother take care of them when they clearly needed some loving. I even sang my old lullaby to calm them down. It always worked when I was raising my children.” She rocked her arms as if holding a bundle, although the bundle she appeared to imagine could have been an adult human.

“Hush little dear now, don’t stray away,
“Mama’s brought prey in for you to play,
“And when that prey’s blood has all spilled,
“Mama will be back with a fresh new kill,
“And once you’ve drank and once you’ve fed,
“Mama’s gonna wrap you in a silk bed,
“And once you’re strong enough to break free,
“You’ll fight your siblings for territory,
“But until that day comes much too soon,
“I’ll keep you safe and sing this tune.”

Mira looked from Maestra to the others. Given Ainsley’s and Enna’s ghastly stares, she assumed this was not what a normal lullaby sounded like. She wondered what Maestra would really do with the prey she’d catch for her, but it was neither her place nor desire to judge.

“But no,” Maestra huffed. “They didn’t want to stay. They were so brash as to even brandish a weapon against me when I only wanted to give them a cozy place to rest their weary head for a while.” She sighed. “Well, I believe their apparent two minds may make them hard to catch using only your serpentine eyes, so use the arrow to, let’s say, get a bite in them first.”

Mira shook her head, brushing the lullaby aside.

“All right, which way did they go?”

“I’ll show you.”

Maestra led Mira outside the mansion, followed by Enna and Ainsley. Along the way she detailed the target’s appearance—fair skin, far fairer than humans commonly seen in that jungle, and with two styles of hair, the short side dirty blonde and the other long, curly, and auburn. They wore a dirty, torn tunic showing well-toned muscles and tools strapped to their back including rope, a shovel, and a sword.

Their muddy pants and muddier boots suggested they’d walked a long way, and their solid face had looked determined to walk a long way more—something Maestra felt simply wouldn’t do. They needed a long rest. They needed a place to hang their feet up, and Maestra was more than happy to hang them from her web.

Outside, Maestra showed Mira where the webbed, lifeless foliage was broken from the human’s escape.

Mira examined the broken branches and stark bushes. It had definitely been a sturdy human. She found a few hairs caught by the webbed branches and sniffed out the scent. She sensed mixed signals, like hair from two different people, a clue too muddled to use. Heavy footprints had been stamped in the soil, chaotic as if caught by surprise, but a clear set led away from the mansion. She tasted the soil—hints of leather, not from any human village she knew of, but fresh.

“They were here just today?” Mira asked.

“They were.” Maestra smiled. “Quite observant. They appeared this morning.”

“I should be able to bring them here tomorrow,” Mira said, “so have some venom ready.”

“Confident, very good.” Maestra reached out to clasp Mira’s face. Mira weaved to avoid it, but Maestra caught her with her other pair of hands. “Now, sweetie, I would normally offer you some tea, but I suppose you do have to catch that poor human before they wander too far and into danger.” She smiled. “Still, I hope you’ll stay for a visit after you return.”

“No promises.” Mira pulled out of her hands. “But—thank you, for the offer, and hospitality.” Such courtesy was unfamiliar to Mira, but she wanted to remain in Maestra’s good graces.

“Gie it laldy, Mira,” Ainsley said. She whipped her hand to shake Mira’s. “Pleasure t’have met ya, though I may be here yet when ye return. Not risking the night, staying here ‘til the morn’s morn.”

“It was interesting,” Mira said. “I’m glad to have accompanied you.” That wasn’t a lie—having the backing of someone familiar with Maestra helped, though she supposed Enna could have sufficed had she known Enna could have been of any help. She flicked her hand. “See you around, Enna.”

“You’ll see me right here!” Enna grinned. “I wanna see how this plays out, so I’m sticking around, too.”

“All right,” Mira said with a flourish of her hand, “then I’ll see you all tomorrow with the spoils of the hunt.” She turned to leave, but Maestra placed her hands on Mira’s shoulders, no grip this time but still firm.

“Remember: bring them unharmed. If I see more than a harmless nick on their skin you’ll have no venom from me.”

“Don’t worry,” Mira said, “I’ll hardly touch them.”

That was, technically, a significant lie, but only because she would heavily touch their body all over with her coils.

At the same time, the spirit was truer than she let on. Mira imagined Maestra never became familiar with the power of lamias’ hypnotic eyes, of which Mira’s was without peer (well, ugh, almost). She didn’t need the venom, she only wanted it for an extra edge, and she could catch the prey Maestra requested with her own abilities. She would keep the venom-dipped arrow in case Maestra reneged on the deal.

The trail grew cold a few times—clearly they’d expected to be followed, as the footprints were sometimes concealed or wiped away—but Maestra had the scent and the taste. An experienced hunter like her could follow a trail to the stars.

When the trail ended she followed clues to a renewed one. Even as the sun set and night fell over the jungle she held the trail, her keen senses spying even the sparsest clue in the dark, even when the footprints had been trampled by a much bigger animal.

Soon the trail only grew stronger. Eventually she sniffed a trail that, in the wild jungle, almost always led to a human—smoke from a fire. She followed a twinkle through the foliage until she found a campsite crowded by plants, a lone figure sitting by the fire. The hair long on only one side, light skin, and dirty clothes matched Maestra’s description. The sword, shovel, and rope sat next to them.

As she watched among the jungle plants they glanced directly at her. When they failed to react Mira grinned. She hid herself too well to ever be spotted, quiet as a limp vine. She needed only to position herself to grab their gaze the moment she made her presence known, and they would be unable to stare anywhere else.

Duval and Debora yawned. The two had rested their weary feet as the day dropped into night, stretching their sore legs after a long day hurrying through the forest. They didn’t say much—after their earlier candid chat they had little to add. Duval felt Debora grow calm, but they remained alert. That calm drifted into tired as the night stretched on, the squawking and screeching of distant jungle animals settling into the endless chirping of insects.

As Duval breathed the warm night air he scanned the surrounding area. He thought he saw someone in the distance, but when he focused he realized it was only an illusion from the foliage. He’d learned to scope out illusions from art studies.

“Get some sleep, Debora,” Duval said. “We’d better rest up, we’ve got a long way to go tomorrow. I’ll take first watch.”

“You take first watch?” Debora said. Duval felt the beginning of a scoff that Debora was gracious enough to not follow through with. “I might as well stay up for that.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Duval said with a huff. “I won’t take kindly to anyone approaching.”

“Yeah, but you get rather contemplative when you’re on your own.” Debora sighed and stretched her arm. “I’m sure you’ll do fine, just don’t wake me unless there’s an emergency, okay?” Duval chuckled.

“All right, I promise,” he said. “I’ll look after the both of us.” Debora shut her eye.

“Not like it takes much to wake me when we’re only half-asleep,” she muttered. “I’m eager to sleep where we can at the same time. This half sleep can’t be good for us.”

Duval clenched his right hand as he felt the left side of his body—their body—Debora’s side—grow slack. He grew more tired, but he kept his arm moving to stay awake as he scanned the jungle for changes. An occasional bird or rodent passed by, but nothing a threat to or even interested in them.

A louder shuffle drew Duval’s attention above him. He stared at the fascinating glow of a twinkling nebula. A dark blue and deeper green, followed by a red as fiery as the sun.

His first instinct was to stare at such a beautiful and fascinating light show. Each color that pulsed through his vision drew him deeper into that desire, pulling his attention tighter. He could just stare all night into those lights.

Just stare.

Just stare and forget all about the dangerous jungle.