Last Night didn't seek out parents-to-be in order to bless them. Sometimes she came upon them; sometimes they came upon her, but the instinct to know where these expectant kin were not her own impulses. They did not demand to be followed, not in the same way at least. It was just something to know, interesting, but it did not need to be explored every time. Certainly there was a story with every impulse, but it she were bound to each of these, she would only ever have the time to hear their stories and there were more to see. And then there was time spent looking inward, seeing what she had missed every time before that, learning more from looking back.There was little she wanted for; the gifts that kin brought her inevitably left with care on a large rock or in a tree, left behind so they could find lives beyond hers. Hers was a simple one and her nature was not to imbue those trinkets with meaning and significance, all that was heavy and meaningful was held within her and in those she met.
The only things of value to her were points of view, something different, something new she had never seen before, never felt anything for before.
Yet, there were still times when she was the silent watcher, unwilling to take stories not freely and knowingly given. She cared too little of the self to be selfish.
Today was one of those days, alternating in silent scuttling, her spider form leading her with a spider's predatory, watchful instinct, and a quiet, careful stride, her terrible gaze taking everything in with a tender care. It was with her six eyes, glowing bright, that she saw the sleeping doe. The other doe, blue with markings red, slept and did not wake at Last Night's quiet approach, but her brow was furrowed--worrying in her dreaming.
Last Night did not wake her, only gazed down at her, contemplating her form for a long time. When she did turn to go, she left her blessing, "May your children wake when they should wake and dream when their souls demand."