[centre][h1][color=bc8dbf]The Spider[/color][/h1][/centre]
Though she’d resolved to remain firmly within the safety of her chosen hiding place – at least until after the current crisis resolved itself – the moment the creature crashed into the barrier above and her legs began to sting with a foul, acrid odour despite the layers of cloth she’d buried herself within, a morbid curiosity began to well up within the spider. Even as her rational mind dictated that there was almost certainly nothing she would be able to do to improve the current situation and that should simply try to wait out the attack, the rising panic inside her urged her towards action, a mixture of terror and curiosity pushing her to find out what was happening.

After what felt like an age to the spider but which in actuality was not even a minute from when the monster had crashed into the shaman’s barrier, the spider gave in to her need to know what was going on, and ever so slowly extricated herself from the depths of her cover, carefully creeping out until her eyes were just barely exposed enough to peer at the sky above her. 

She was a wolf spider, and while it might be argued that this gave her excellent visual acuity for a spider, such an assessment only really applied when comparing her to other types of spider; compared to a human it could be said that her vision was actually quite poor. Even so, great visual acuity wasn’t something she of all creatures needed to identify a bird when saw one, doubly so when the bird in question was so monstrously large and so terrifyingly close.

As the spider observed the attacking creature, she took note that the bird monster’s focus, while predictably seeming to be aimed towards the amnesiacs and survivors sheltering beneath the wind barrier, was not evenly distributed amongst said individuals, but rather seemed to be concentrated upon a select few areas – or more likely, a select few individuals. 

That one such area the bird’s long neck craned to observe was seemingly in the vicinity of the spider’s chosen hiding place was certainly a terrifying realisation – and she couldn’t help but once again wonder if she’d made a truly awful mistake in choosing to hide there – but the thing that really caught her attention was that her simulacrum was also clearly a target of the monster’s attention… She had no clue why this might be the case, but could she somehow use the fact to her advantage?

The idea occurred to her that she might use her creation to try and distract the bird somehow – maybe luring it away, or at the very least occupying its attention for long enough for someone more capable to do something useful – and her ideals went to war with her own self-interests as the terrified arachnid mulled the idea over in her mind.

On the one hand, she really didn’t want to expose herself to any avoidable questions or undue risks if she didn’t strictly have to and the idea that she might somehow end up embarrassing or alienating herself filled her with dread, but at the same time, even if it would take her a while to recoup the energy she’d spent to create it, wasn’t her illusory construct ultimately expendable? Not to mention that for all the monstrous bird was probably magical it was still rather unlikely it would be able to damage the intangible simulacrum in the first place… 

When she thought about it in those terms, the spider felt somewhat guilty for hesitating at all.

With just a few seconds of further procrastination, the spider steeled her resolve and settled upon a plan. She promptly had the simulacrum turn to face the rest of the group, waving its arms above its head a couple of times to – hopefully – gain the attention of both the bird and with any luck, someone actually capable of hurting the creature, before raising its voice to convey her plan. At least she’d intended for the simulacrum to raise its voice at the end; perhaps her spell was a little too good at interpreting the spider's intentions and feelings because instead the construct’s voice more or less immediately trailed off as it stuttered out something barely comprehensible about creating a distraction.

The spider didn’t bother to have her simulacrum make a second attempt at communicating, instead channelling her terror and shame both into having the construct spin back around and sprint away, its clothes whipping wildly around it in the wind as the illusion passed unhindered through the barrier’s boundary.

As the simulacrum’s movement sped up, and the spider’s awareness of its immediate surroundings became increasingly shoddy, a particularly perceptive observer might have started to notice the interactions between the illusion and its environment starting to fray at the edges; dust particles and tiny fragments of debris kicked up by the wind refusing to cling to the illusory woman in favour of passing straight thorough, and though it occasionally stumbled upon hazards unseen to its creator, it never did so for more than a fraction of a second before its directives superseded physics and its body instead passed through the immovable obstacles unabated.

Lacking a good view of her spell and wanting to leave some leeway as to her simulacrum’s range, the spider directed the construct to start sprinting back and forth just a few meters beyond the reach of the shaman’s winds, trying her hardest to have it draw in the bird’s attention while readying herself to have the illusion bolt should the bird actually make a dive for it.