Friday Feature: Gribnock


The clicking and crackling and sound of ice cracking can be heard over the wind, as you peer into the distance, squinting to see through the dancing snow. There it is again: Click click click drush! Whatever’s making all that racket must be huge, but all you can make out are the vague shapes of trees, thin and slender. Wait, did that one just move? Before the cold froze Botley’s voice simulator, you heard him faintly say “Warning…warn---... I-s- ...I-spy...her,” his voice getting slower and quieter until he shut down.

Your heart races as the sound gets louder and nearer, and you pull you bear suit closer for comfort and for warmth against the biting wind. Suddenly Botley begins to whir and hum as his operating system boots back up. Picking up mid sentence, he shouts: “--ning, Ice Spider! Warning, Ice Spider!” Before you can react, a giant articulated spider leg slams down to block your path. You are now face to segmented eye with an abominable arachnid, whose giant white fangs lock at you and whose giant blue hue blocks the horizon. As it stares down all you can think is “Do ice spiders weave ice webs? Are ice spiders poisonous? Maybe I should… run!”