Albertina is making a royal mess of things.
She’s weaving webs and making pies all in a single, swift motion.
No one’s really sure how she does it.
No one’s really sure she does it.
With the skill of a well-versed multi-tasker, she kneads dough and hums to herself as her spinnerets spool out yards of sticky, treacherous line.
Those who, enchanted by the sweet scent wafting towards them on the waves of her song, make the grave mistake of trusting her always wind up immobilized by the viscous strands.
She’s a one-woman death trap.
Smiling, she wipes her hands on her apron and takes pie to the survivors.
Cherry.
It’s her trademark.
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