The Beast

 

The primordial order

 over the world 

and the laws governing all.

Many moons ago the weavers were told in explicit terms that if they did not remove themselves from a said space she would remove them in time and eradicate their offspring. 

Sweeping corners with her stout broom she whistled while she worked, webs woven were no match for her tool of sticks bundled in mass. The trap of the web didn’t hang on for long as she moved into hard to reach places. 

She didn’t fret the offsprings demise. They were allowed to exist as a whole but not in her space. The eggs laid, smashed and removed, then a dust of toxin made for the weavers was spread to solidify the situation. 

It was a process, it was a nice place, safe except all but one predator and she was a beast. 

Moons passed as would take her stout broom, removing the uninvited and problem makers.

One month a feisty weaver, a warrior be it got their fangs into the beast that killed their offspring. A bite with poison through the extra layer over the beasts skin. 

From then on the beast took out the weaver unabashedly.