I am a
striped tiger. Can't you see that?"
"I can admit that you do not look like what I had in mind," replied the
spider. "However, you are feline in nature. That is all I care about
just now."
"But it wasn't me who beheaded you. I am innocent!"
"Perhaps," the spider seemed unconcerned. "Perhaps what you say is true,
and then again, perhaps you're Lion to me. In any event, you are at the
very least a distant cousin to that animal that lopped my head off. When
he hears that you are in my clutches, he'll be here."
"But this is a small, rarely traversed forest," said the tiger. "It
isn't often that news from the Lunechien Forest gets out to the rest of
the country."
"Then you shall stay here as my guest," grinned the spider. "After all,
the little insect has been satisfying me less lately. I had been using
her sweet charity to keep myself giant-sized." He stalked over to a wall
on the far side of the cave. Indicating two yellowing papers with
crudely drawn human faces on them, he turned back toward his bound
prisoner. "These are pictures I drew of the Great Masters. They created
me, and gave me the powers I possess. When they asked me to devour their
bald-headed little enemy, I was only too happy to comply.
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