jarring impact, Chatterbeak’s body lurched to a halt in mid-air, catapulting Whisker forward. He had barely left the parrot’s back when he felt himself colliding with something sticky and springy. It flexed under the impact and then bounced back, taking Whisker’s body with it.
Thin, silky strands gripped his arms and legs like glue as he vibrated back and forth. Limbs splayed wide and with his face pressed flat against the web of silk, he was powerless to escape.
A Sticky Situation
Looking around the quivering web, Whisker saw that his companions had all suffered the same fate. Anna’s small body hung beside his, her eyes wide with shock. The folds of her baggy cloak, flattened against the web, gave her the appearance of a giant squashed cockroach. Further to Whisker’s right, Ruby was suspended sideways with her arms angled awkwardly like the hands of a clock. She was trying in vain to reach for her scissor swords, but her arms stuck fast.
Below Ruby, Chatterbeak was stretched across the entire diameter of the web, his feathers caught in countless silky strands. His beak was wide open and overflowing with sticky, broken threads. One of his claws was wrapped around Horace, who dangled upside down with his head hanging low to the ground.
‘Rotten pies to spider’s webs,’ Horace murmured in a daze. ‘And putrid pastries to crash landings …’
Whisker remained silent. His mind was working overtime, assessing their predicament. He didn’t need to be an arachnophobe to know that being stuck in a spider’s web was a bad thing – a very bad thing. Common sense told him that where there were large webs, there were sure to be unpleasantly large spiders.
His eyes darted from left to right, scanning the edges of the web for any signs of eight-legged activity. The web was enormous and he feared that whatever species of spider had woven it would be of giant proportions.
Seeing nothing in his peripheral vision, Whisker shifted his attention to the web’s construction, hoping the combined weight of its captives would send it crashing down. From what he could see, the web was suspended between two pine trees by a sturdy bridging thread and anchored to the ground to form a triangular-shaped frame. Radial threads ran from the edges of the frame to the centre of the web, where a sticky spiral of capture thread rotated outwards. The pristine condition of the web told Whisker that it had been built recently and that it had been built strong.
‘I thought spider’s webs were supposed to be silver,’ Horace said, raising his head to study the structure. ‘From down here, this one looks gold.’
Whisker glanced across at a sunlit strand of silk. It shimmered gold in the morning light.
‘You’re right, Horace,’ he whispered, recalling a spider his mother had once told him about. ‘I think this web was built by a golden orb-weaver.’
‘And what does this golden orb thingy eat?’ Horace asked warily.
‘Whatever is stuck in its web,’ Ruby hissed, struggling in vain to wrench her arms free. ‘Rat, bird, you name it.’
Horace gulped and looked uneasily into the trees. ‘So where is it now?’
‘Don’t know. Don’t want to know,’ Ruby said, continuing her struggle.
‘Perhaps it’s building another web in a far corner of the forest?’ Whisker offered.
‘Or maybe it’s watching us right now through its eight spidery eyes, deciding who to eat first,’ Horace shuddered.
Anna let out a squeal and shut her eyes.
Ruby stopped squirming and glared at Horace. ‘I thought I told you not to spook the poor girl? Now quit making up horror stories and do something useful to get us out of this mess!’
‘Like what?’ Horace asked.
Ruby bobbed her head towards the forest floor. ‘You’re close to the ground. Surely you can unbutton your trousers and wiggle free.’
‘Unbutton my trousers!’ Horace exclaimed, feigning shock. ‘I can’t believe you just said that.’
Ruby rolled her eye. ‘As much as we would all rather be spared the sight of your bare behind, Horace, it just might save us all from certain death by a giant spider. Now get wiggling!’
‘Alright, alright,’ Horace muttered. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
He squirmed around for some time, puffing and panting like he had ants in his pants. Failing to free himself from the sticky thread, he slumped his head down and let out a defeated sigh. ‘It’s hopeless. My pants are too tight, I can’t undo my belt and Chatterbeak’s oversized claw is pinning me to the web.’
‘Cwaw, cwaw,’ Chatterbeak spluttered, his tongue tangled in golden silk. ‘Leab me ouw o’ dis.’
‘No one’s blaming you, Chatterbeak,’ Whisker said, attempting to keep the peace. ‘Now, can anyone twist their –’ He cut himself short as a soft padding sound registered in his ears. He looked around, trying to locate the source of the sound, but all he could hear was the wind whistling faintly through the needles of the trees.
‘What is it?’ Ruby whispered.
‘I-I thought I heard something,’ Whisker said, ‘but –’
Pad, pad, pad. There it was again. The sound of feet creeping over pine needles.
‘Something’s coming,’ Whisker hissed. ‘Don’t move a muscle. Any vibrations in the web will give us away.’
In statue-like silence, the companions stared out from the web, all eyes watching the ground in front of them. There was no sign of movement.
Where is it? Whisker thought, beginning to panic.
The sound grew clearer and Whisker suddenly realised why he couldn’t see anything. The creature wasn’t approaching from the front of the web. It was approaching from behind. In desperation, Whisker tried swivelling his head to see what was behind him, but the sticky threads tightened around his neck and chin, restricting his movement. From his captive position, all he managed to glimpse was a dark shadow out of the corner of his eye.
‘Here it comes,’ he whispered.
Horace gulped loudly. The shadow crept closer, disappearing from Whisker’s field of vision as it reached the base of the web.
There was a pause as a cloud passed over the sun, plunging the forest floor into inky blackness. And then the web began to vibrate.
It’s climbing, Whisker thought in horror.
He heard a soft click and then a high-pitched scream.
‘Eeek! Eeek! It’s on my back! It’s taken my hook! Get it off me! Get it off m –’ Horace’s cries were abruptly cut short.
Whisker felt his heart skip a beat.
There was a moment of terrifying silence,
