Arachnid Massacre

We stumbled out of the woods and into this scene of carnage.  
They’re plants, stems bent and broken by winter snows and countless frosts, leaves dried and crumpled like old rags.

But for us they were so much more.

Here lie the remains of the arachnid hoard, cut down on the battlefield and left to bleach in the winter sun; legs broken at angles, brown bodies cold in their slaughter.

They lie just outside a rather fine gothic pile – and we decided they must have attacked in the dead of night,...