Multiple layers of them. Wik touched my arm. Whispered, “Stay very quiet.” Then he walked slowly towards the center of the Gyre, across the nets. An acrid smell grew stronger as I followed his path. The nets rose and fell with our motion, but also with an odd pressure from below our feet. I wobbl...
I pushed my hands into the grips and tried to extend my arms, fast. But where the wingset should have unfurled, silk and battens held my arms to my sides. I fought back panic and tried again. A look over my shoulder with the wind whistling through my ears told me why: spiderwebs snarled the wings...