Blackfeather Woods We have waited long for the [M]aster's song and it's time to join in the chorus...

acknowledge or ignore

Nemesis would not have given Potema permission to breed, had she been the Dark Master at the time. The timing of their birth could not be more inconvenient; the winter was harsh and their numbers did not support the many mouths that needed to be fed. The more that died at birth would give life to the ones that pulled through, or else the woman had every inclination to end them herself. The sight of the four put a bitter taste in her mouth, but one that she suppressed for never could she ever act upon the ideas that circled within her head; unless tyranny was apart of her plan at the moment. Her presence outside the den put a damper on the mood, a silent shadow seething at the unfortunate predicament of birth. Gazing into the depths of a den she could no longer call her down, the Dark Master felt no love for the new Spiderlings. They would never surpass her children; Atshen, Keelut, and Abraxas would be the heirs to the dark forest with Astrid as its queen. It was their purpose, one that would not be stolen by a litter of bastard children with nothing but their less than achieving mother to their name. The four threatened everything from birth, and they did not even know it. Silently, dark woman lay outside, guarding, but uncaring.