Aliénor

You descend hastily, releasing webbing ever more frantically from your spinneret. Several of your kind follow closely behind and you sense the same feeling of urgency amongst your kindred, the same powerful lust. As you near the ground, your bulbous head rotates downward and through your many eyes you make out the stern figure of Aliénor pacing obliviously along the corridor below you. She holds her spear in a keen grip and glares ahead of her, methodically scanning the area in front of her on the lookout for hidden danger. Her head turns from side to side as she advances, but not once does she consider looking up.

Fifteen feet off the ground, you bring yourself to a sudden halt and call out to your companions to do likewise. A half-dozen of your brethren stop themselves with difficulty, dangling awkwardly in mid-air, their webs swaying madly at the sudden tension on the silken strands. The element of surprise is your greatest weapon. You will not waste it in a reckless frontal ****. You lower yourself down more slowly until you hang but ten feet from the floor, still disguised by the impenetrable darkness that shields the entire nest from human sight. You wait patiently as Aliénor treads towards your position. When she passes directly below you, you thrust your lower body forward with excited precision and expel a sticky net from the hole in your abdomen. It flies tantalisingly through the air towards your clueless target.