Sawtooth Spire you can try but you can't hide from the big guns

The rotund little soot-ball from the burying ritual emerged from the undergrowth obviously excited and buzzing with electricity. The spider took a moment to observe the awkward little tufts of fur that jut out in weird angles from his nape and head. Sooner or later that puffy coat would drop into adult plumage and excess weight would be transferred to lean muscle. One hoped, anyway. Maybe the little butterball was doomed to his figure.

The question was met with a fiery stare, peering down upon the creature with consideration. This foreign word the spider actually knew as time had been spent with their beta learning the tongue of the Tartok. "Kayuktuk," he explained, using their word for the fox that seemed to run rampant in the thickly wooded vegetation of the Hollow. There was curiosity if the little wolf understood. "I found him nearer to the Spire than was comfortable. Want it?" he questioned with a little shake of the fluffy object as enticement.