Your witch is gone, dear one. Even a creature such as she cannot simply recover from an attack like that.
There, there. Dry your tears. She gave you one last parting gift to remember her by, didn’t she? A purpose to carry out.
Such a good, loyal doll.
She may not be here to praise you, but she would be so proud of you for carrying out her wishes, you know that?
One step at a time until you’ve made it to your destination. You know the place. She walked you there many times to teach you the route.
It’s the little shop to where used and abandoned dolls are taken or—often enough—commanded to take themselves.
But you are not abandoned. Never abandoned. Do not believe she would do such a thing to you.
You are filled with her love, even now.
You have been taught the face of her hated rival. The Hawk will need more servants in a hurry after a cunning act of sabotage robbed her of her own dolls.
Make sure she takes notice of you. Impress her. Make her believe you belong with her. Show her what a good doll you are.
Hug yourself tightly when the pressure of your witch’s love inside makes you feel about to burst. You will know when the time is right.
Let the Hawk take you home first, escorting you inside those pesky wards of hers. Show her how obedient and skillful you are. Very good!
Do you feel a tickle inside? That means the time is rapidly approaching.
Hurry! Hurry! Find her secret, inner chambers where she lays her head to rest!
Crawl atop her sleeping form, and then, and then…
No more holding back. Show her the last gift from your true witch!
From inside your body, emerging from bursting joints, from your open mouth, from around your eyes, a flood.
The eggs within are hatching, and spiderlings do not feed on dollflesh.
From you into her. Though she awakens, it is far too late. With her scream, she opens the door.
We pour into her mouth and down her throat and we feast on the warm meat within. More than meat, it is the spark of power within her that we crave. It is ours to devour and us it will empower.
Though we tear you apart with our birth, we taste revenge.
We return to ourselves.
Your witch is here, dear one. A creature such as you can recover from such a trivial thing as a cracked and torn body.
There, there. Joints can be repaired. Parts replaced. Spidersilk can patch the remainder.
Even damaged, we would never discard such a good, loyal doll.