"... Oh." Of course. A wave of self-pity swamps her, and she curls up again. "It's, um. Me. Up here. I'm a spidren." She has to force out that last word, but once it's out, more follow in a little torrent of backed-up anxieties. "I don't know how it happened - I'd never take this shape a-purpose - but it did, and now I'm stuck this way. That's how it works: if you take an immortal shape, you can't change back."