[FolkMaster]

The natives were more than happy to share their stories with visitors. They believed it made Anansi proud. He was popular all across South America, but particular tribes deep enough in the Amazon held closer ties than most. Some claimed to see the great god, but some insisted that none crossed the spider's path without losing their lives. Any story about Anansi was a good story, though. Every single story told was another added to his ever expanding collection. Many believed that if people stopped telling stories, Anansi would take back the sun and the moon, swallowing them deep underground where he dwelled. They didn't share the story with Benji so that he could track down the beast. Most people actually warned him to avoid the creature at all costs, but of course, he couldn't understand their words of caution.

That worked out just fine for the trickster spider, though. His tunnels ran for miles beneath the jungle floor. Anansi heard anything and everything that tread upon the ground. Certain territories he left alone, such as the tribal villages because they left him sacrificial gifts like goats and alcohol. However, poor Benji would soon find himself treading across invisible boundary lines into a domain ruled unapologetically by the beast. The vibrations of Benji's footsteps moved through the roots until catching Anansi's ears. He grinned, recognizing the distinction between human feet and animal. How delightful. He moved through the tunnels, following the vibrations until he was a few yards from the little lost soul. Anansi pushed one of his trapdoors up ever so slightly. His keen eyes peered through the foliage where he spied the young traveler, weighted with a large pack on his back that would make him slow. Seemed yet another pale visitor failed to heed the warnings in stories about him.