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The day my life changed forever, I had just received the worst possible news any Arache could have ever gotten.

“I’m so sorry miss Spinna, the damage is too severe. You will never have children.” The words cut deep, far more painful than the claws of the Wrathbeast had been. A mutilated lower left arm, amputated at the middle joint. A crippled front left leg. Clawed up lower abdomen, source of the current bad news. Severe scarring on the left side of my face. Three of my four left eyes were blinded permanently. All in all, not a complete loss, I could still hunt. I could still Weave. But even if I could attract a male, I couldn’t reproduce. At least my sister still lived. Our genetic memory would live on, even if my contribution to it would not.

The shamans herbs had failed her. As I stared out the entrance of my home at the infinite stars, I took solace in the fact that at least I still lived. It had taken too long, but my venom had finally felled the huge mammalian predator that had intruded on my home. I looked up at the stars. Our stories tell us that the Great Weaver, mother of all, spun the world from her silk, and hung it from her web. Each star is an anchor point for a silkline, invisible and unbreakable.

As I got ready for dawn, and sleep, I prayed one last time. “Great Weaver, please, I beg you one small request. Let me have a child. Grant me my own special one. A child to bring joy to my life. Please.”

As if in answer, a star winked into existence. A pulsating, blinding white, it grew quickly as it streaked across the sky. Fearfully, I noticed it was coming closer.

With a titanic roar and great fire, the star crashed half a mile from the entrance of my home.

For a few seconds, I debated wether or not to investigate it. Dawn was coming, and with it the blinding light of day and the inquisitive Lago. Finally, I began moving, after all, a gift from the goddess is not to be snubbed. Besides, if I didn’t, a twitch nosed Lago would.

The star was round, like an egg, but made of some shiny, hard material. It wasn’t stone, or at least no stone I’d ever seen. It almost looked like the shaped trinkets of the Lago, metal they called it. As I approached the star egg, it opened along a seam, letting some strange vapor escape.

I looked inside, and nearly molted in shock. It was an infant! A tiny little life, to call my own. It was clearly not Arache, nor was it a Lago. The ears were too small for a Lago, and too few limbs for an Arache. It was small, pink, with a tuft of black fur on its head. Two eyes, a bright shade of green that drew me like pools of emerald. Two tiny, chubby fists, two tiny, chubby legs. Ten pink digits. It was so ugly! But it was also the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

I leaned over it, my upper hands tucked under my chin, fingers chittering in curiosity. It looked at me, smiled a toothless grin, cooed at me, then giggled as it reached for me with its chubby little arms. My heart melted. Gently, I worked my hands under it, being mindful of the sharp talons, before I transferred it to my lower arms.

It was floppy, weak, fragile. Precious. Of great value. And a quick check determined it was male. My son. My goddess given Starchild. I wove him into a cocooning blanket roll, cradled him to my chest, then brought him home, chittering contentedly as he cooed at me. I wove us a bower to sleep in and cuddled him close, a smile on my face as we fell asleep.