The spider scuttled around its vast web, clicking irritably at the stick. The floor boards squealed under Otho’s feet as he shifted his weight, putting together what he thought about this answer. “I don’t think the spider will like being in a box.”
This, finally, got Violet to stop her harassment campaign. Her mouth was sloped to one side in bemusement when she looked back over her shoulder at him. “Ain’t going to hurt it, now am I? Just want to look.”
“Would you like it if a giant spider picked you up and put you in a box?”
He didn’t consider it for very long before trotting across the lane, dodging wagons and entirely too-large foot traffic, until he had made it to the alley. A kobold’s sense of hearing wasn’t particularly impressive, but Piksel was sharp enough to hear the quiet crying from the girl.
“You,” he said briskly, pulling up short beside her. By his estimation, had she been standing she would have had perhaps six inches on him, but currently he could actually look down at her. It was nice not to strain his neck. By his estimation the child was perhaps ten or eleven, but you never really could tell with mammals. “Come on now, don’t cry. You’ll get a headache and then you’ll be of no use to anyone. What’s the matter?”