The odd thing about this tree trunk was that there were windows throughout the large trunk's frame and a small red door facing the dirt road. A sign hung above the door, a piece of silk as colorful as the residents in this bright town. On it, in refined stitching, were the words "Arachne's Weaving" with flourishes in bright gold threading.
Inside this shop, was a small, curvy pae with wings like a bat that had been spun with spider's webbing. She was tending to one of the many rows of fabric and thread and yarn and whatnot that were settled around the front half of the trunk. Off to the side was a register, a small wooden box with a lock on it that went up the stairs just behind the bench upon which it sat. Up those stairs were Arachne's weaving rooms amd her personal quarters. As well as supply rooms.
However today wasn't a restock day. In fact it was a rather dull and boring Tuesday. Looking out the windows facing the road, she sighed and adjusted another pile of fabric on a different shelf.
If only she had a customer....
Teigra