Webber knew how to survive. Of course, he’d been here for little over a month - but he is still a child. Bags are under his eyes from the lack of sleep, his eyes darting to find the source of the lurking noises that hid in the dark surrounding his tiny camp. However, the lack of sleep was not the problem for today; it was the gushing hole at his side.
He had not been expecting hounds today.
Hot blood dribbles to the floor behind him, and hands try desperately to cover the bite marks that send antagonising pain down his spine. Tears bead up at the corners of all eight eyes and his vision is beginning to blur. He had tried to patch himself up, but one can only do so much with a few webs, grass and a spider gland.
There’s a base up ahead. It looks almost exactly like his, but bigger. And better. Webber had come across the terrifying skeletons of other survivors, he assumed, but he had yet to encounter any live ones. Perhaps this base had been long abandoned, or could there be something residing in it?
There’s no time to consider options, as the spider is running out of any at all. “H-Hello?” he tries to shout, but his vocal chords are aching from his screams of pain. “P-Please, help us, w-we need help, we’re hurting!” his tears stream from his eyes, and his legs finally give way, causing the poor child to collapse with loud sobs.