Interesting? 

Harper ties the buttonless shirt - handkerchief-style. 

Is that understatement or wry observation? 

She brushes off tears  

with backs of pawed hands         a rather feline 

gesture. Flushed cheeks heighten 

defiantly glinted eyes. 

Well? I assumed YOU  

were female, 

why presume I am MALE? 

Are superior beings prone to idiotic sexism much like  

inferior entities?

        You are right to chastise me 

        although it is not my tendency 

        to believe that Power resides 

        with the male of the species, 

        no. It is simply that you are so  

        very tiny and that in MY species 

        denotes masculinity.

Oh. Well, apology accepted, then.

        None given.

Harper eyes the Arachnid with distaste  

but decides to let it  

slide. 

You are female then?

        I am.

Where is your mate, the male of your species?

        Long gone.

Oh? Where?

Chillingly swift, the Arachnid rears, a Wolf spider poised 

to strike.  

Harper cowers  

although disgusted by her instinctive reflex. 

Her right arm hooks in front of her face - 

lame attempt to fend off the monster. 

She looks like nothing more terrifying 

than a fledgling raising a featherless wing - 

utterly pointless 

utterly vulnerable. 

It is then that an uncanny sound  

rumbles throughout the surrounding hillsides. 

Harper risks a shifty peak. Straightens in a rush of rage, scandalised  

by the effrontery. 

You're         laughing? 

        Oh,  

growls the intensely tickled spider,

        how can I not? 

and continues the quaking, rich, thunder-rolling sound. 

Harper is like to splinter teeth,  

so fiercely does she feel the insult. Why? Why did you  

rear up on me?  

What  

did you mean by it?

        Oh, oh. Oh, dear me, ah. 

        Hum. All right. Calm. Yes. 

        I have not laughed like  

        that in many millennia. 

        I simply wished to validate 

        the answer to your inquiry. 

The Arachnid fondly strokes her distended abdomen. 

Smug is the word that comes readily to mind. 

Harper 

Naturally enough is horrified! 

You ATE him?  

You claimed earlier you ate Time.

        And so I do but the female of my  

        species also consumes her mate. 

That is unspeakably savage, obscene, uncivilised, barbaric.....

        No, 

The Great Spider corrects,

        that is a time-honoured practice. 

        Nobly accepted by the male as

        both appropriate and obligatory.

Gorging on the father of your children

how can that be viewed as appropriate?

        Indeed it is very practical. He had  

        given of himself already and thus   

        rendered himself unnecessary.

What a foul practice, Harper observes bitterly.

        Not at all, it is a spiderish one. 

And that is one of many differences between arachnids and humans.

        Oh, indeed, you presume to judge? 

        You, member of a species that has 

        devoured or destroyed countless 

        others, I think your kind refer to it  

        as extinction. A tidy little term that 

        - negates all responsibility.  

Harper growls low-throated, bares teeth but chooses 

to submerge her temper. 

She wisely decides to change tack. 

You called me Harper several times, where then

is my harp?