Long ago and far away, there was a shepherd who lived in the mountains with his flock, his dog, his wife, and his three daughters. His name is not important. His dog's name is not important. His wife's name is not important either, but his daughters' names are. The oldest was Claudia, who was fair of face and had eyes more blue than the dreams of sapphires. The middle girl was Isolda, who was fair of face and had eyes more blue than a clear midsummer sky. And the last and least was Malina, who had a face you wouldn't look twice at and eyes like fog, and who had killed her mother.

The shepherd and the two elder daughters often reminded Malina of this, because they had watched Malina's mother die of childbed fever barely a week after Malina had been brought into this world.

She grew into a child of average build, weight, appetite, and sensibilities. She wore her sisters' hand-me-downs and played with the wooden toys that they outgrew. She learned to hold her tongue rather than talk out of turn, and to observe others carefully. She watched the patterns of birds in the air and sheep on the ground, and feared the howling of the winter wolves. She dreamed the dreams of children everywhere who feel that they are neither wholly understood nor wholly loved; dreams of being spirited away to someplace where her real father and sisters welcomed her, a place where her hand-me-down socks didn't have holes and her father called her by her name rather than girl or you. She was, in short, neither monstrous nor mad, and although underloved she was never outright rejected by her family as she changed from a child to a woman.

The local lord had three sons, all spirited young men who were fair of face and had eyes as blue as the faraway ocean. Sometimes they rode through the village on market days and gave flowers to the peasant girls in exchange for kisses.

The eldest of the three young men saw Claudia. He offered her a bundle of bright yellow jonquils, and Claudia kissed him. She twined the flowers into a crown to rest upon her golden hair, and told the boy that she would look much better with a crown of metal and a bridal veil. The eldest of the lord's sons was already captivated by Claudia's beauty, but knew well that peasant girls didn't marry into nobility. Nevertheless, he could not deny her.

Weave and sew your wedding dress, and come to me again, the eldest son said. If it is as beautiful as you are, I will marry you.

So Claudia returned to the shepherd's home, and carded and wove the bales of soft white lamb's wool into cloth, and then cut and sewed the cloth into a dress. But she had no pearls or jewels, and she knew that a peasant's woolen gown could never rival a satin gown made by a master tailor in one of the southern cities, so she called for Malina.

Girl, she said. Go into the mountains and fetch me a bolt of cloth woven from spider silk.

Sister, I can't, Malina protested. The drider will eat me from my toes to my head. It's too dangerous.

You killed our mother, Claudia reminded her. Fetch the silk so you can atone for her murder.

Malina hung her head in shame, then packed a basket with bread and cheese and salted mutton, pulled on her hat and shawl, and set out. She climbed the mountain trails, which grew narrower and steeper and stonier with every step she took, until she found a canyon crowded with massive spider webs. Antlers protruded from an equally massive storage cocoon beside the entrance.

Malina waited outside the canyon. Only the wind stirred the webbing, and dusk began to fall as the sun set behind the peaks. A chill descended over the mountains, and Malina pulled her shawl closer about her shoulders.

There was a chittering noise, followed by the sound of too many legs thudding against the ground. Are you lost, my dearest? asked the drider who loomed out of the deepening darkness. She had the torso of an elf and the lower half of a spider the size of a pony, with a multitude of glowing red eyes filling her gray face.

I'm not lost, good mistress, Malina said. I came here looking for you.

The drider paused, then asked: What is your name, my dearest?

Nobody had ever asked Malina her name before. She told the drider.

Dearest Malina, what do you seek? the drider asked next.

My sister needs a bolt of spider silk cloth for her wedding dress.

And what do you offer in exchange for a bolt of my cloth?

Malina offered her the basket.

Dearest Malina, I eat my meat raw and wriggling, and I take neither bread nor cheese, the drider said. Offer me something else.

Malina offered her the promise of a lamb from her father's flock.

Dearest Malina, a single spring lamb, no matter how tender, is not enough for a bolt of my cloth. Offer me something else.

I have nothing else, Malina admitted. Unless you desire my life.

I do not desire your life, the drider said. Will you give me a kiss for a bolt of silken cloth?

I will give anything to make my sister happy.

Be careful what you say, dearest Malina, the drider whispered, and approached on her many legs. Malina's own legs wanted to tremble, but she held her ground. The drider cupped Malina's face gently with her gray hands, and Malina's eyes fluttered closed. The human didn't know if her heart thundered in fear or anticipation, but she could have sworn that it stopped at the soft press of the drider's lips against her own a moment later. When Malina opened her eyes, the drider presented her with a bolt of silken cloth that shimmered under the moonlight.

Here is your cloth, the drider said.

Thank you, Malina said. Her lips tingled. What is your name?

My name is Arachne, the drider informed her, and sent Malina home down the mountain trails.

Malina arrived before dawn. Her father hadn't noticed her absence, but Claudia was happy to receive the silk. She cut and sewed it into a dress, and this she showed to the eldest of the lord's sons. Even with no pearls or jewels, the dress was so beautiful that the young man had no choice but to marry her. Claudia left the shepherd's home to live in the lord's castle.

Malina dreamed of Arachne's lips and hands upon her, and felt a pang of hitherto-unknown desire in the morning when she awoke alone in her bed.

Another market day, the second-eldest of the lord's sons saw Isolda in the village, and offered her a bundle of bright crimson roses in exchange for a kiss. Isolda accepted, and twined the roses into a crown to rest upon her coppery red hair. She told the lord's son how fine she would look with a crown of metal and a bridal veil, and this second son, thinking of his brother's fortune in finding a beautiful wife, posed the same challenge as his elder sibling had done.

Isolda returned home. She did not bother sewing a dress of lamb's wool, and instead summoned her sister.

Girl, she said. Go into the mountains and fetch me a bolt of cloth woven from spider silk.

Sister, I can't, Malina protested. The drider will not let me impose on her generosity a second time, and I fear… She didn't know what she truly feared, however, and could not continue.

You killed our mother, Isolda said, not noticing her younger sister's hesitance. Claudia may have forgiven you, but I haven't. Fetch me the silk so you can atone for her murder.

Malina lowered her eyes to the floor in what might have been shame—but her hands clenched into fists at her sides. The young woman packed her basket a second time, and donned her hat and shawl. This time, however, she took her mother's wedding band and slipped it into her pocket before heading out the door. Once again, Malina climbed the mountain trails that grew narrower and steeper and stonier with every step she took, until she found the canyon. She waited, and dusk cloaked the mountains in darkness. Arachne emerged from among the webs.

Dearest Malina, what brings you here? the drider asked.

My other sister needs a bolt of spider silk cloth for her wedding dress, Malina admitted, and I will do anything to make her happy.

Be careful of what you say, Arachne warned. What will you offer me in exchange for a bolt of my cloth?

Will you take my mother's ring? Malina asked, and fished the silver band out of her pocket. She held it out, and Arachne approached to inspect it. Malina's heart once again began to hammer in her chest as she looked at the drider's lips.

I place no value in metal, the drider said eventually. Offer me something else.

Will you take another kiss? Malina asked. And then she surprised herself with: I would be happy to give it to you.

After a moment, the drider smiled. I will take your kiss, but I will ask this of you as well: will you wear my favor, dearest Malina? Will you wear it always and visit me at least once a moon for a year? If this is acceptable, I will give you the cloth.

It is very acceptable, Malina said, and leaned into the drider's touch. Their lips met for a second time, and this time Malina knew that the thrill in her heart was something very different from fear. When they finally pulled apart, Arachne gave her the bolt of silk. The drider also gave her a shimmering length of ribbon, and tied it gently around her right wrist. Her hands were warm and soft as they brushed against Malina's.

Malina returned home with the bolt of cloth before dawn. Her father had not noticed her absence, but Isolda was happy to receive the silk. She cut and sewed it into a dress, and this she showed to the second of the lord's sons, and was married to him shortly thereafter. Isolda left the shepherd's home to live in the lord's castle, and Malina kept her promise to visit Arachne once a moon.

Finally, the youngest of the lord's sons came to Malina in the village on market day. He offered her a fistful of daisies plucked from the roadside in exchange for a kiss. Malina blushed and accepted, but the kiss felt awkward and forced. She pulled away first.

Do you want to marry me? the youngest son asked.

Malina hesitated, then shook her head.

The lord's son didn't seem to recognize this. He continued: Your sisters' wedding gowns were amazing dowries. They said that you gathered the silk from a man-eating drider in the mountains. Fetch me three bolts of this silk, and I won't ask you to make a dress out of it.

Sir, Malina protested. I cannot marry you.

Yes, the youngest son agreed, you aren't beautiful enough. However, you will fetch me the bolts of spider silk. I command this of you as the son of your lord.

But I can't, Malina protested. I can't impose on Arachne's generosity a third time, and ask for three bolts of cloth rather than one. It is too much.

Arachne? the lord's son asked. It has a name?

Malina froze into stillness.

The lord's son looked at the shimmering ribbon still tied around Malina's wrist. What's this? he asked, and reached out to examine her.

Malina pulled away again. It's nothing, sir. I made it from a scrap of leftover fabric from my sister's dress.

You're lying! the lord's son declared. His eyes narrowed. You're in league with the drider! Did you enchant your sisters' dresses so that my brothers would be made stupid with infatuation? They're married to worthless peasant girls now! I'm no fool, though; I can tell you're a witch. Guards! Guards!

Malina fled the village as fast as she could, her eyes burning with unshed tears. She knew her father would offer her no shelter from the lord's son, the village church no sanctuary, and so her feet took her along the mountain trails that grew narrower and steeper and stonier with her every leaping step. She did not wait at the canyon mouth as she heard the baying of the lord's hounds, but slipped into the maze of sticky webbing. She slowed as she navigated between them, and struggled not to fall into the silken traps.

Arachne descended along the canyon wall on a silken line from the spinnerette of her spider abdomen. She looked down at Malina with her many red eyes, and listened to Malina's panting breaths and the growing cacophony of the hounds and guards.

Dearest Malina, why do you weep? the drider asked in her soft voice.

Arachne, Arachne, the lord's youngest son called me a witch and said I used magic to enchant his brothers, Malina said. I think they want to kill me.

Dearest Malina, do you wish them to live? Arachne asked. Her many eyes glowed bright as bloodied garnets.

Yes, Malina said.

Dearest Malina, do you truly wish it so? Do you truly wish it after their cruelty to you?

Malina hesitated, and the baying of the hounds and the shouting of the guards drew nearer. They had almost reached the canyon.

I wish it so, Malina whispered.

Then so it shall be, the drider said, and spun more webs so that neither human nor hound could enter the canyon without Arachne's assistance. The guards' swords tangled and caught in the sticky webbing without cutting it, and the dogs refused to come near. After a time, the pursuers gave up and went away, their voices fading down the mountainside.

And now Malina was alone with Arachne. She could not return to her father's home, or to the village, and she could not call upon her sisters at the lord's castle. She was, for the first time, without a family, and her tears stung her eyes more fiercely than ever.

Dearest Malina, what brings you such sorrow? Arachne asked, and pulled Malina into her strong gray arms. Malina leaned against her.

I am lost, Malina said when she had mastered herself somewhat. I have nothing. I have nobody.

Dearest Malina, you have me, Arachne said. We can travel far from these mountains, and make a home where none can harm or hate us. We will be safe. We will be happy. I promise you this with the breath in my lungs and the beating of my heart.

Malina turned in the drider's arms to look into her face. Dearest Arachne, how can I thank you?

Will you wear my favor always? Arachne asked.

Yes, and I already do, Malina answered.

Will you kiss me?

Yes, and I already have.

Will you marry me, dearest Malina? Will you call me your wife and cherish me until the end of our days?

Yes, and I always will, Malina answered. She reached for the drider and kissed her a third time then, slowly and softly, feeling wholly loved and wholly understood.