Animals and insects dying because of unfortunate circumstances (mothers and guardians leaving too soon, or peeling off from nests to hunt at the inopportune moment that a predator finds a clutch of eggs) is common and a natural part of life, so the idea that it might happen in the Nexus strikes Mordred as entirely unremarkable. Such things are the way of life and Gods tied to the cycles of nature. The much rarer occasion is when a mother leaves, hands her child over to a foster-mother to fend for themselves, and that child becomes a druid and warlord against all odds.

"Then you may have the good fortune of returning to the Gods or world beyond soon, to rejoice at the sides of the powers that shape this place." --is what he starts to say, when something odd in the air catches at the edges of Mordred's consciousness like so many little hooks. A strange magic, and a presence tied up within it that feels intimately familiar (cold, grasping, hungry, death? Death.) It seems there's something even more to all of these little creatures than he initially understood. Completely distracted, Mordred reaches out a hand to a nearby spider, palm upturned.

"Will one of you crawl upon my hand?" He's prepared to be told no and assumes he can get a read on the magics colliding with his own by touching one of the webs, but this way is simpler.