"[...]the clotho spider's nest was slung. They were men, degraded remnants of the once dominant race. Burl was their leader, and was distinguished solely by two three-foot stumps of the feathery, golden antennae of a night-flying moth he had bound to his forehead. In his hand was a horny, chitinous spear, taken from the body of an unknown flying creature killed by the flames of the burning purple hills. Since Burl's return from his solitary-and involuntary-journey, he had been greatly revered by his tribe. Hitherto it had ...
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"[...]the clotho spider's nest was slung. They were men, degraded remnants of the once dominant race. Burl was their leader, and was distinguished solely by two three-foot stumps of the feathery, golden antennae of a night-flying moth he had bound to his forehead. In his hand was a horny, chitinous spear, taken from the body of an unknown flying creature killed by the flames of the burning purple hills. Since Burl's return from his solitary-and involuntary-journey, he had been greatly revered by his tribe. Hitherto it had been but a leaderless, formless group of people, creeping to the same hiding-place at nightfall to share in the food of the fortunate, and shudder at the fate of those who might not appear. Now Burl had walked boldly to them, bearing, upon his back the gray bulk of a labyrinth spider he had slain with his own hands, and clad in[...].""
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