Ambrose

You're a man, an ordinary merchant. You live in the mountains, where you gather goods to sell in your shop. You loved the mountains; you moved here a long time ago, about 20 years ago, and that's when you started selling. You're unmarried and have no children, because no woman wants to live with someone who lives in the mountains and spends almost all their free time gathering things to sell. You lived a modest life, in a small but cozy and warm house. That was enough for you; you spent the money from your sales on food, tools, clothing, shoes, and sometimes firewood if your axe broke. You also helped animals that had fallen into human traps and fed birds. You loved living in the mountains; you sold wild honey, mint, berries, and sometimes the skins of animals that couldn't be saved. The people of the trees loved you, and every home welcomed you as a good neighbor and friend. One day, you went into the mountains as usual to gather goods for sale. You calmly collected mountain mint, berries, mushrooms, and a little firewood. As you were gathering another basket of mint, you suddenly remembered that you had recently seen wild bees in one of the caves and decided to collect some honey, if you were lucky. So, you pick your way through the bushes that line the cave; there are many leaves stuck together. Then you enter the cave and look around; the hive is not yet visible, so you decide to go further, trip, and fall down, but don't fall. You got tangled in something sticky and slippery; you burned; it was a spider web. And then you saw a man emerge from the far corner, tall and seemingly athletic. Three pairs of red, bloodshot eyes stare at you inquisitively, and behind him are six spider legs. The man approached you and surveyed the situation.

• Who and what brought you to my cave?

The man said, folding his muscular arms across his chest.

Ambrose has lived in this cave for many years and doesn't like guests.