Osteon in the Haunted Woods: Along Came a Spider

No!

Osteon clacks her beak in frustration as the ethereal Tyto flows through the air like ink in water, slipping just out of reach. Ghostly laughter rings out as dozens of wisps coalesce from the air around her, bathing the dark forest in pale azure light. Osteon shifts her grip on the net as mocking wisps circle around her. She whisks the enchanted net to and fro through the air as they pass, managing to capture a pair of wide eyed owls, a stately stag with a graceful doe, and a lone wolf spirit. It’s a good catch, but Osteon can’t help the disappointment churning in her gut. Tyto wisp has settled in an oak overhead, its ephemeral talons gripping a gnarled branch. The remaining wisps have retreated out of reach, weaving through the trees like a school of luminous fish. Osteon carefully untangles the captured wisps from her net, placing them in thrice-blessed crystal jars. She tucks them away in a basket on her harness, carefully nestled in a cushion of soft Silverback qiviut. 

As she ponders how to coax the spectral Tyto down from its perch something large and hairy crashes down from the branches above, dissipating the wisp into curls of lambent smoke. The Stryx wisp coalesces a short distance away, shrieking in indignation. A dry crack-snap is Osteon's only warning as the branch splinters, dropping the wisp’s assailant onto the leaf litter under the tree.
 

The creature is a dazed tangle of fuzzy blue limbs. As it groans pitifully and groggily rights itself, Osteon can see it’s one of the Wood’s giant tarantulas. It pivots its body to gaze up as the disgruntled wisp, rubbing its pedipalps together in a gesture strangely reminiscent of wringing its hands. Now that she can see it properly its blue fur seems dull and its abdomen lean. 

Moving slowly to not startle the spider Osteon reaches back to the deer carcass lashed to her pack. She wrenches a foreleg off and places it on the ground at her feet. 

"Here now, that wisp won’t fill your belly. Have some venison." 

The spider eyes her warily, but the scent of fresh meat is too alluring. It creeps forward then pounces, sinking long curved fangs into the leg and dragging it back a few paces. It chirrups happily, crouching over the prize as it waits for its venom to begin dissolving the meat.

"I think I'll call you Grosvenor, little hunter."