The Spider That Hid Rain: Episode 4

An encounter of Dojo and Rog with the Spider in the forest. ( The spider that hid rain.)

A Spider's Secret 

The ground beneath them was solid once more. No more sinking. No more sticky, slimy quagmire pulling them into its endless depths. 

Dojo and Rog sat on the dry earth, panting, their hearts still hammering in their little chests. They could feel the dampness of mud clinging to their legs, the cold weight of fear pressing upon their skin. But it wasn’t over yet. 

A shadow loomed over them, stretching long and dark. Slowly and with hesitation, they looked up. 

And there it was. 

The Spider. 

It was colossal. Bigger than any creature they had ever seen. Its legs arched high into the air like the roots of an ancient tree, each one thick, hairy and jointed, moving with an eerie grace. 

Its body shimmered under the dim, milky light filtering through the thick mist above the forest cover. The deep brown and black of its exoskeleton glistened like a polished stone, smooth yet marked with intricate ridges. 

Dojo's throat moved in a hard swallow. Rog clutched his arm, her hand ice-cold and unsteady. 

The Spider loomed over them, its eyes gleaming like tiny glass orbs, reflecting the faint light lighting up the forest. Dojo and Rog shuddered involuntarily, their breaths catching in their throats. Rog instinctively gripped Dojo’s arm tighter, her fingers digging into his skin as if to anchor herself to something solid. 

Its eyes studied them with an unblinking intensity. Its mandibles twitched slightly, making a faint clicking sound. When it moved, the air seemed to shift, as though the forest itself responded to its presence. 

And then it turned. Without a word, without any sign of urgency, it leapt over the children, walking away. It stopped, turned and paused. With a subtle dip of its head, it beckoned them onward before continuing ahead. 

Dojo and Rog remained frozen, their breaths quick and shallow. Rog's legs trembled, her grip tightening on Dojo's arm as if afraid the ground beneath them would vanish again. Dojo's fingers curled into small fists, his heartbeat drumming loudly in his ears. 

“What...what is it doing?” Rog asked in a whisper, barely finding her voice. 

Dojo exhaled sharply, shaking off the terror gripping his limbs, his gaze focused on the spider. 

“I think… I think it wants us to follow," he whispered. 

Rog turned to him, her face tight with disbelief. "Follow? Are you serious?" 

“Do you have a better idea?” he shot back, though his own voice wavered. 

The Spider crept a few paces forward, then halted and turned its massive frame slightly, as though checking if they were following. 

Rog glanced around; at the spider, then back at Dojo, terrified. She realized they were deep in the forest. It was hard to tell which way had brought them. 

The only way forward—the only answer to everything that had happened—seemed with the creature that had just saved them. 

Dojo rose to his feet and glanced around the dense, unfamiliar forest. Rog stood beside him, and together they stared at the Spider, which remained motionless, watching them. It dipped its head again in that same silent gesture. 

“I think we are going to have to follow it,” Dojo finally said, whispering while fixing his frightened gaze onto the spider. 

"Are you sure... Dojo?" Rog was still visibly shaken. 

Dojo turned to Rog, feigning some courage. "Look, it saved us. It could've let us drown back there, but it didn't. Maybe it wants to help. Maybe it wants to show us the way out." 

Rog was hesitant. 

“It’ll be alright. Let’s follow it and see,” Dojo assured Rog. Without a word, Dojo stepped forward, his feet crunching softly on the forest floor. Rog followed, close behind, her eyes never leaving the Spider. 

Step by step, they followed the Spider while it led the way.  

The farther they ventured, the more the forest transformed—the trees grew taller, more ancient, their trunks wrapped in layers of webbing that glowed faintly in the dimness. 

The air was thick with a strange scent, neither unpleasant nor comforting—just foreign, laced with something old and untouched. 

Having gone deeper, they saw it. 

Suspended between the great trees, stretched high above them, was the Spider’s dwelling. A massive structure of woven silk, layered and stretched in patterns so intricate it looked almost like glass spun into thin threads. Hanging from it, glistening in the milky light, were hundreds of small, round sacs. 

“Wow,” Dojo beamed. 

Rog gasped. 

Dojo’s breath hitched. He stepped closer, craning his neck to take in the sheer size of it all. 

“This is… this is where it lives,” he whispered with awe. 

The Spider stopped just beneath the massive webbed structure and turned to face them. Its eyes blinked eerily, observing their astonishment. 

Dojo and Rog stood frozen, their breaths shallow. They had never seen a creature like this—so vast. Then, to their utter shock, the Spider spoke. 

"You have come far," it said, its voice deep and strangely measured. 

Dojo and Rog gasped, stepping back, their legs trembling.  

"H-how… how can you speak?" Rog stammered, her voice barely a whisper. 

"Spiders don't talk! No animals do!" Dojo added, his voice high with disbelief. 

"Are you… are you some kind of spirit?" Rog asked. 

The Spider tilted its head slightly, as if amused by their confusion. 

"I am no spirit, child," it replied calmly with a slight chuckle. There was a pause. 

“Then... how come you can speak?” Rog asked, still staring at it in disbelief. 

There was a pause. It stared at them. They turned and looked at each other. 

"First sit down, you need to rest,” it finally said, seeing how tired they were. 

Dojo sat down first, followed by Rog, both settling onto the polished ground. They leaned their backs on a big tree behind them. The Spider lowered itself to the ground before them, folding its legs underneath its massive body. 

"So, you were asking?" the Spider asked. 

“Yes, how come you can speak?” Rog was starting to light up. 

“Oh that! Well, I have been here long before your ancestors built their homes in Nandi," it said. 

“Really!” Rog could not believe it. 

"Yes, and I have watched, unseen, for hundreds of years. I listened to your elders tell stories in the old days—when they still came here to hunt and gather before they chose to grow food." 

"W—what!" Rog exclaimed. 

"Yes, child, yes," it nodded its head as it continued, "I heard your people's laughter, your fears. I learned your words, one by one, just as I learned your ways." 

The children's fear was now mixed with awe. "That's impossible!" Dojo muttered. 

"Why would a spider listen to humans?" Rog asked, still eyeing the creature warily. 

The Spider let out a soft, clicking sound, almost like a sigh. "I don't know, but I think it's because your world and mine are bound together more than you know. And if we all listened carefully enough, we would be able to speak each other's language. Now tell me—why have you come?" It shifted slightly. 

They exchanged a glance, completely absorbed in awe. 

"So, tell me, why have you come here alone and unescorted?" it inquired, "You are far from home, children. This is a dangerous place to be—you could have died in that mud." 

Dojo swallowed hard before finding his voice. "We—we came because of the mist," he managed to say. "Ever since it appeared, our village has been suffering." 

“The mist? What mist?” the Spider asked, surprise flashing across its face. 

“Yes, that thing covering the top of the forest,” Dojo replied. 

“Oh that!” it said, glancing up into the tree branches. “I see.” 

“That mist is why we came here,” Dojo added. “Is it not mist?” he asked. 

“Ever since it came over the forest, our people in the village have been suffering a very harsh drought that has now led to famine,” Rog added. 

The Spider remained quiet. 

“Do you know what caused the mist to appear over Bayoka?” Dojo asked again. 

“We believe it's that mist...” Rog started. 

“It is not mist,” the Spider interrupted, then immediately went quiet—as if it had just made a mistake. 

There was some awkward silence. The Spider turned to look around. Dojo’s breath caught in his throat. Rog’s eyes went wide. 

“What… did you just say?” Rog asked, her voice barely a whisper. 

The Spider shifted, realizing its slip. 

Dojo glanced from the Spider to the web above. “It’s not mist? Then… what is it?” he asked, squinting. 

The Spider didn’t answer. 

Dojo stood up, trying to see through the canopies high above them.  

“No… No, that can’t be...” He shook his head, then pointed. “Are you saying… that thing covering Bayoka—that’s not mist?” 

A long, heavy silence. 

The Spider did not reply. 

“What is it? Please tell us,” Rog prodded. 

After some hesitation, the Spider turned back to them. 

The Spider finally spoke. “I will tell you only if you promise not to tell anyone.” 

They took turns looking at each other and then nodded. 

It was silent for a while, as if it weren’t ready to speak. The children looked on, impatient. 

“Well, I will tell you,” it began. “It is my web, not the mist as you think.” 

“What, your web?” Dojo was confused. 

“Yes!” it replied. 

“Wow!” Rog was astounded. 

“Ever since we started to see it from the village, the rains stopped. Why?” Dojo asked. 

It looked up to its dwelling and pointed. The children followed its gaze. 

“I did not want rain to destroy my eggs.” 

“Eggs?” Rog asked. 

“Yes. For several years I have been trying to have children, but every time I lay eggs, they are destroyed by rain,” it said, its voice barely above a whisper. 

Dojo frowned. “But… how could a web stop the rain?” 

The Spider looked at them, surprised. 

“You do not understand how rain works! Do you?” it asked with amazement. 

The children looked at each other, puzzled. Dojo blinked. “Rain just… falls from the sky, and I don’t see how your web, however thick, would affect that.” 

The Spider chuckled. “No, no. Yes, it falls from the sky, but it is more than that.” 

“More than that?” Rog asked, eyes wide. 

“Yes,” the Spider said, both amused and surprised they didn’t know. 

“The trees of Bayoka breathe,” the Spider began, its voice slow and clear. “Their roots drink water from the ground, and their leaves let it out into the air as steam—what we also call vapor. This vapor goes up into the sky. When it gets high enough, it cools and turns into clouds. And when the clouds are full, it rains.” 

The children stood in stunned silence. 

“Without that vapor rising,” the Spider continued, “there are no clouds. Without clouds, there is no rain—simple as that.” 

Rog’s mouth fell open. “So… when you covered the forest…” 

“I trapped the moisture—the breath, the vapor—inside. It can no longer rise into the sky. That is why we only have blue skies and no clouds,” it said. 

Dojo stood amazed. “So you alone stopped the rain?” 

The Spider’s eyes blinked. “I had to. My eggs cannot survive in damp conditions. They would perish before they ever hatched.” 

The revelation hung heavy in the air, both surprising and deeply sad. The entire village was suffering because of this. The animals, the people, the land itself—it was all dying. There was silence for a while. The children kept gazing up into the web-covered tree canopies. 

“Our people in the village are suffering because of the lack of rain,” Dojo finally said to the Spider. 

It looked away and then back to the children, its eyes sorrowful. “I’m sorry about that. I just could not see any other way.” 

There was silence again. 

Then Rog’s eyes lit up, a new idea forming. “But what if… what if there was another way?” 

The Spider’s eyes narrowed, its mandibles twitching. “No. There is no other way. I have tried for years. Every time, the rain has destroyed my eggs. Washed them away before they could even hatch. This is the only way.” 

Rog stepped forward, pleading. “But the village—our people are suffering! The animals are dying! The land is turning to dust! There has to be another way.” 

The Spider shifted without moving from the place it sat. “I don’t think so. The eggs would perish,” it countered. “I wove this web with pain. I hesitated because I knew the risks of it.” 

Dojo coming closer to the spider, “we can help you,” he said, “We can build a shelter—a dry, safe place for your eggs. You wouldn’t need to block the sky.” 

The Spider remained still, considering. Then, it clicked its mandibles. “Humans do not keep promises. How do I know you will not betray me? How do I know you will not kill me the moment you return to your people?” 

Rog stepped forward boldly. “Because you saved us. The village and our parents would be grateful for that.” 

A long silence stretched between them. 

"No," it finally said, its voice low and unwavering. "You do not understand what you ask of me. For years, I have tried. Every attempt to bring life into this world has been washed away by the rain. The dampness, the storms—they always take everything before my young can live." 

Dojo and Rog exchanged glances. Then, Rog stepped forward. "But—" 

"No!" the Spider snapped, its mandibles clicking sharply. "I will not risk them again! I have sacrificed too much. You ask me to undo the only thing that has ever protected them." 

The children hesitated, the tension thick around them. 

"But… our village is suffering. Our people—" 

"And you think I have not suffered?" the Spider interrupted. "You think your loss is greater than mine?" It exhaled sharply, its body shuddering with the force of its own emotions. "You humans would never understand." 

A thick, heavy pause settled between them. Rog clenched her fists, then let out a slow breath. 

"Maybe we don’t understand. But we can help. You don’t have to do this alone," she said. 

The Spider remained silent, its eyes watching them carefully. It shifted again, but this time, its posture was less rigid, less resistant. 

"If you betray me," it finally said, its voice quieter but no less threatening, "if anything happens to me or my young, the web will remain. Forever." 

"We promise," they said in unison. 

"Okay. Go back to the village. Return with your people and build the shelter." 

As the sun dipped behind the trees, the Spider led them safely out of the forest, its eyes following them until they reached the edge of Bayoka. 

Their true challenge had just begun. 

EzroniX Kids.