Tarantulas escapes through the back door, transforming and scurrying off into the woods as fast as he can with Ryja's mask still clutched in one pedipalp. The loss of his house and shop would be a major blow, but he prefers it to hanging around to see what River's reaction will be. He'll hide in the cave, he thinks. Its disorienting effects will keep anyone else from following his trail -- but it's not to be.

Tucked up against his chitin by a length of wire, the bloodstone cracks in two, and Tarantulas's spark pulses in his chest.

He gasps in sudden agony, an involuntary transformation nearly sending him crashing face-first into a tree. He clutches at the trunk, shocked gasps of pain falling from his throat. It hurts, like nothing else has ever hurt before in all his long checkered life. His spark is being squeezed in a vice --

He falls to his knees as the pain suddenly peaks -- a warmth like blood flows down into his stomach -- there's a writhing, as if a court of worms have taken up residence in his flesh -- and then, his stomach begins to swell --

Oh. Oh Primus, it's really happening.

"Erik!" he shrieks at the top of his lungs, throwing dignity and indeed, his own personal safety to the winds. "Erik, please! I need your help!"