Eamon was already shaking his head. “No, that’s not going to happen. If they were set on by beasts, I don’t want any of us out there alone trying to save them.”
“How about groups of two?” Buck said.
Eamon bent his head in thought.
“That might work,” he said. “I still don’t like it, though.”
“It’s probably our only option,” Shea said softly. “If we narrow the search any further, we risk eliminating a path they could have taken and missing them entirely.”
Eamon nodded in agreement, though his expression in the flickering light made it clear he didn’t like it. Shea sympathized and knew that he’d blame himself if anybody didn’t make it back to the rendezvous alive. That was the burden that came with being in charge, and it was one she didn’t envy him.
He unhooked one of the oblong canisters from his hip and handed it to Buck. “Alright, but if you find him or get into any trouble, shoot one of the firebugs into the sky for help. I’ll pair up with Shane, and we’ll take the three that are the furthest northeast. You two take the rest. When you’re done, meet at the fork in the river that we passed this morning.”
Back at the horses they mounted and together traveled through the shadowy valley, with the white cliffs nearly glowing in the moonlight.
Buck and Phillip angled away. Buck lifted one hand in farewell, his dark figure disappearing quickly into the gloom. Shea watched them go, praying that this theory of hers didn’t get them all killed. Her horse followed Eamon without any urging from her, and they rode in silence as they made their way to the closest route Shea had marked off as theirs.
Hours later Shea was kicking herself for opening her mouth. They were halfway through the second path and still no sign of their quarry.
Shea stopped her horse suddenly. Something was off.
“Eamon.”
No questions asked, he pulled his horse to a stop, looking around alert for possible danger.
Shea’s horse moved under her and tossed its head. Patting its neck in wordless comfort, she paid close attention to any details that might tell her why her senses were screaming danger.
This happened every so often when her subconscious recognized a threat. She’d learned the hard way to pay attention to these little warning signs and let her consciousness relax enough to find that detail that could explain why the skin on her neck was trying to crawl its way down her back.
Nothing on the ground seemed amiss. There were no sounds she would classify as overtly threatening either. No beast screams or growls or soft, nearly silent movements in the dark.
So what was it? Why did she feel like she was missing something?
A thin almost barely perceptible glint of moonlight caught her attention, and she looked up, noticing the fine, nearly invisible threads spanning from one canyon wall to the next. She looked down, suddenly able to see the anchors in the rocks and the bushes that seemed to be bound in a filmy white.
“Spinners,” she hissed.
Eamon curse was soft but heartfelt as he looked around seeing what she did now that he knew it was there.
Spinners were giant insects with broad flat heads that contained four eyes and fang filled mouths under short snouts. With four legs and a set of arms complete with hands, they spun webs that had a hallucinogenic coating to make their prey euphoric and lethargic. This kept their prey content and incapacitated enough to stay put in the web while the spinner stopped by now and then to have a nibble. When breeding, they laid eggs in their live food so the babies would have something to eat immediately upon hatching.
“We won’t be able to take the horses any further,” he said darkly.
Shea swung her leg over and dismounted before leading her and Eamon’s horses back the way they’d come. She tethered them close to the mouth of the canyon where there weren’t as many webs. Hopefully, they’d be safe here. At least until Eamon and Shea returned.
“Ready?” Eamon asked.
Shea blew out a breath. No, but that hadn’t stopped her before.
They moved quickly and quietly down the canyon, taking turns watching the cliffs for signs of spinners. Unlike the shadow beetle, spinners didn’t have the ability to completely blend in with their surroundings.
Would their quarry really have come this way? Especially in the day when the webs would be much easier to see?
Eamon held up a fist, his entire body going still as he scanned the night. Shea braced, planting her feet while her senses tuned to any sound or movement.
Eamon looked over his shoulder to make sure she was paying attention and pointed off to the right. Shea squinted but couldn’t see what had sent him into high alert.
The spinner webs were thicker here with entire sections of the canyon wall hidden by thick ropes of white.
Finally she heard what Eamon must have as a guttural groan reached her ears. She tapped him on the shoulder to indicate she heard, and together they crept across the ground strewn with huge boulders towering above their heads. Shea’s skin crawled just thinking of a spinner sitting unseen on top of one as they lay in wait for unsuspecting prey.
The fourth time she stole a glance at the shadowy heights, she stumbled nearly knocking Eamon down in the process. Hitting the ground with a loud thump, she cringed, silently mouthing several choice words. When nothing happened, she released a breath and heaved herself to her feet, brushing the dirt from her stinging hands. She must have scraped them when she fell.
Eamon waited, his silent presence still managing to radiate disbelief and humor despite being cast in shadow.
They made their way to where the webs were thickest, following the indistinct groaning.
So far no sign of spinners. Shea hoped it stayed that way.
The two split up to investigate the area. Eamon headed deeper into the canyon while Shea moved along the webs.
She stopped near where she thought the sounds originated and peered closer at the way the webs strands crisscrossed in an intricate pattern that might have been beautiful if it hadn’t been so damn scary.
Seeing the dim shadow of a figure, she stepped closer and was able to make out an arm that led to a slumped man, only the strands holding him upright. His head lolled making it impossible to see his face.
“Eamon.” Shea’s excited whisper sounded like a shout after the tension filled quiet. “I found something.”
He moved back to her as Shea tried to find a way to the man without disturbing any of the spinner strands. The slightest brush would alert their makers, much like a fly struggling in a spider’s web would the spider. That or she might become entangled and find it impossible to escape.
As she slipped closer, she made out the slouched figures of two others in addition to the man she’d found.
“Shane,” Eamon said in a low voice, tension threading into it. “I’m not sure you should get any closer.”
Shea dipped beneath another complicated set of threads and straightened in front of her man.
“Is that them?” Eamon asked.
“Not sure, but who else could it be?” Shea whispered back.
The man groaned again, and Shea took a chance that he was conscious enough to understand her.
“Try to stay still,” Shea warned. “The strands have a hallucinogenic that will get stronger the more you struggle.”
She needed him semi-conscious so he could run when they freed him.