Tangled web weaving

[thuringwethil]

::after much careful laying of clues, paths, and false paths, Thuringwethil returns to her lair. Opal has long ago fallen asleep, and now the baby is lain gently in a crib specially fashioned just for her. Thuringwethil straightens, absently scratching Fang the warg on the head as she turns, moving toward the coldest part of the lair. Here, there are containers of milk for the baby. Thuringwethil begins heating a bottle and smiles wickedly, speaking to the baby::

It would not do for you to die before your mother gets here. That would completely ruin everything.