The worms turned to me in unison.
Scary. That’s scary. I wanna leave now. Why am I even here? What did I ever do to you, Spider Boss?!
While I busied myself panicking, Spider Boss picked up one of the worms and carried it over, dropping it at my feet. It was over a meter long and made me want to run a kilometer in the opposite direction.
Come on, me. Spider Boss wouldn’t have led me here if it wasn’t safe, right? There’s no way these worms are dangerous... Right?
“Argh!” I flung my arms over my head as something came shooting toward me from the worm.
It’s attacking! Crap!
I waited for something—for my barrier to react or for pain—but a few seconds passed without either occurring, so I hesitantly lowered my arms, only to find that they were covered in countless strands of white—
“Thread?!”
Curtains of silky string hung from each of my arms.
I see, I see. Thread, huh? I did say I wanted thread. I just didn’t think it would come in the form of an attack...
To tell the truth, I’d been hoping for something like a cotton plant rather than a thread-spinning insect, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
It’d probably be a lot harder to make cotton into usable thread too... Yep, just gotta convince myself that’s true.
I looked down to find that Spider Boss was gathering up the thread with fidgety, vaguely anxious movements.
I wonder what’s wrong with it?
I decided to take a couple of the worms back to the cave for efficiency’s sake, saddling Chai and Kurou (who’d also come along) with one insect each. While the worms were actually riding on top of the wolves, I still shuddered at the sight of them clinging to their fur like some horror movie parasites. With a start, I realized that Spider Boss seemed to be giving instructions to the worms—and that the worms seemed to obey, sitting obediently on top of the vaguely displeased wolves. It was an odd sight.
As soon as we got back to the cave, I made the worms a room on the second floor, dumping a large pile of leaves we’d gathered from around their nest in one corner for food. Next, I planned out the things I’d need to turn the strands they produced into usable thread. The first thing I needed was a pole to reel the thread around, which was simple enough. The second thing was some more clay dolls. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to touch the worms—or their thread—any more than absolutely necessary. I made two more of the clay dolls this time, setting them to work with the image of spinning thread.
Welcome aboard, friends!
The clay dolls immediately started sorting through the previously made thread.
When the dolls approached the worms for the first time, I was amused to see that the worms looked a little scared.
But they’re so cute! How can you be scared of them?
I’d given the insect-duty dolls three eyes instead of one—two in the usual places, and one in the center of their foreheads, just like the oni from Japanese folktales. I’d been obsessed with legends and folktales when I was younger; apparently, that obsession was making a comeback. I watched for a while as the clay dolls began to reel the thread around the poles. Round and round and round and round the poles...
I’m dizzy. But it worked! I have thread! Smooth, silky, beautiful thread.
However, I still needed to figure out how to turn it from thread into clothes. I could probably ask the dolls to do it for me, but that meant coming up with a mental image of weaving or knitting first, and I didn’t have the first clue how either worked. The only mental image I could come up with was a twisted bundle of knots.
This is harder than the bed... I’ll figure it out later.
Wha—? You’re done?!
Apparently, I’d struggled more building a bed in my mind than the one-eyed dolls had building one in reality.
Go Team One Eye!
It was just my type of bed: sturdy frame, low profile, and great ventilation thanks to the slatted base. They’d even made beds for each of the wolves too.
Um, hang on... I don’t have a mattress. Isn’t it gonna hurt more to sleep on a bunch of slats than it did to sleep on the floor?!
I hurriedly asked the dolls to start filling in the gaps between the slats with more planks.
I screwed up with the mental image a little. Sorry, guys! My bad.
The clay dolls got to work—apart from one, who came over to where I sat on the floor and patted me on the back encouragingly.
Um... What?