The bone blades came across in a flat arc meant to take his head, and behind them the spider-legs were already working.
The two pairs rose over her shoulders and churned, and from them the web came — not thrown now but laid, thick wet torrents of it cast out into the dark around them and strung tree to tree, branch to root, a net rising on every side. It was not an attack. It was a wall. She was building the fight a room. Closing the avenues a fleeing thing would take, walling the glade into a cage with the two of them inside it, so that the prey could not do the one thing prey did. She had decided he would not run.
Rapax's twin sabers met the bone blades and held.
