Sigrid went to the water's edge and watched the light dancing, chaining, breaking in its ripples. She caught it quickly in her hands and ran back to the spider. But when she opened her hands, there was only one drop of water left.

"No," said the spider. "Water is the whorl. The sun’s eye on a blade of grass, together they spin the thread that I weave."

"But what shall be my spindle and what shall turn it?" said Sigrid.

"The wind," said the spider. "You must find fibre as the light of the air, that is not of the sea and not of the land, and yet of both."