The abrasiveness of that tongue was meant to induce a reaction. Valerna strived to awaken the man from his self-imposed lethargic state. Everything about Veron appeared distant and detached. She could empathize; she, too, had been broken in the past. His world may be dead, but hers was alive and thriving. The globe would continue to rotate on its axis whether she inhabited it. The wheels of time and fate wait for no one, least of all this voyager.

Veron remained in that dream-like state. The disconnect between their predicament and his consciousness was evident. How riveting. Out of all the souls, she could have been cast adrift with the macrocosm selected this damaged and errant spirit. The vermin wasn't a riddle; his presence was an effrontery to all Valerna stood for. She'd offer no kind words or generosity lest she do more damage with an open hand than a closed fist. What the boy required was a cold dose of reality. Something she'd happily provide should a moment present itself.

The spider never mulled over what the rat regarded her as. Their divide was grand; it exceeded the breadth of space that wedged itself between realities. She could minister until the heat death of all existences, and not a single word would be ruminated over. Veron had ears but was deaf, an eye but was blind, and skin but couldn't feel. She would have likened him to a corpse, but that would be an insult. The dead at least nourished the soil and the maggots; Veron couldn't even be bothered to do that much. 

The smirk he presented provoked no response from the web spinner. The giantess couldn't be bothered to care for one that didn't care for itself. She had better things to do than play captain save a sad boy. That opening statement did little to alleviate her harrowing criticisms. Once again, he had missed the point. It appeared the deformed bovinite had an aptitude for sidestepping the crux. That, or his skull was too thick to be penetrated. Whatever the case, she wouldn't fritter her energy.

Veron felt compelled to accentuate her arachnoid elements. The man's playful banter was met only with her resting bitch face. If only he were so worthy. As he stood now, there was nothing he could offer. But something told the giant that his prior self wasn't much better—a suspicion she couldn't shake and one that rationalized raising her guard. Her senses were whetted by experience, and she kept watch over her fellow wanderer and their surroundings. 

"Drink you? I'm sorry. I don't eat junk food or empty calories." She responded before waving that absurd notion off with her hand. Valerna's brown spheres darted to the foliage that rustled in the distance. 

Could it be his rancid stench attracted an opportunistic predator or carrion? Considering the game she had witnessed thus far, she doubted the beast could be that imposing. Nonetheless, Valerna wouldn't leave anything to chance. Complacency kills, and she had no intent on dying on this mudball with this imitation of a carcass to keep her company. 

Instinctively, those arachnid ligaments affixed to her back shifted about. Those spindly appendages opened back up as their tips aimed at the general direction of the source. The spider's posture was relaxed, her mind sharp as she controlled her breathing. Those pupils dilated as the thrill of the hunt coursed through her supple body. Valerna wasn't afraid nor threatened; she was excited. Finally, she'd have something valuable to measure her situation.

The wildlife of this world divulged much information. Life adapted to suit its environment. While the backdrop might be alien, certain principles remained invariant. Biology, despite its diversity, was relatively narrow in breadth. The universe's antagonism didn't support wimps. Dead-ends were destined for oblivion. There were merely a handful of ways to move across the terrain and finite senses by which one might interact with it or dissect data.

The deer she had consumed and other miniature mammalians supplied much-needed edification. They were all lilliputian in stature. And whatever feasted on them within this biodome couldn't be too large. They were also devoid of any magical traits. An observation that informed Valerna that the world wasn't as magically charged as her ancestral home. There, even the saurians had organs to exploit the magical forces. They'd gather light to their frills and expand them, sending a blinding flash to ward off threats.

Should the thing rushing their way defy all empirical evidence, she had a backup plan. The lake and her ability to bend water would allow a quick escape, and the silk she could produce might ensnare or slow down the predator. Once she was skating on the surface of that still lake, she might have been able to balloon her webs and fly far away. For this reason, she exhibited no fear and kept a neutral yet fluid stance. 

But would she save Veron if he somehow proved less adept? Likely, if for nothing else, then to assert her dominance over the highbrow "king." It wouldn't be the first time the less evolved gender required saving from their hubris. Sexual dimorphism favored the females of her species. Men were relegated to watching the children as their wives ran the world and broke the wilds. And while she had met many species, whether the inverse was true. Rarely had their men impressed her. 

Regardless, Valerna was ready to see if Veron would be the first or just another subsequent disappointment among an infinite line of failures. Either way, it would be entertaining.