A Rustle in the Grass

by Robin Hawdon

  Eventually, however, he was forced to seek refuge and take his bearings. Sheer exhaustion was making his running clumsy and incautious and when he blundered headlong into a rushing torrent of water that almost swept him bodily away down a precipitous bank, he realized – after having dragged himself back to firm land again – that no use was being served by crashing blindly on any further. He veered off to where the grey mass of a stone reared its glistening head above the ground, ran round to its lee side and squeezed himself into a narrow crevice beneath it.

  His heart thumping and his breath coming in great gasps, he listened for signs of pursuit. But the noise of the elements effectively drowned out all but the closest of individual sounds, and it seemed that there was little chance of anything being able to keep track of a quarry in that bedlam. He peered about him, seeking for clues as to his whereabouts. The only indication he had in the brief lightning flashes was a vague emptiness beyond the trees to one side, which indicated that he was still close to the forest edge. This gave him encouragement for it meant that he had been running more or less parallel to this boundary and was at least headed back towards the only forest trail he knew: that by which they had come.

  Dreamer swallowed a little of the food in his crop, retained from their last meal in captivity, and contemplated his situation. Only now was he able to observe the full majesty of the storm about him. Never before had he been out in the open during such a display by the elements; he had always taken refuge in the home-mound at such times, along with all the others of the colony. Now he was witnessing it at close quarters – indeed was almost a part of it – and he began to realize for the first time how truly gigantic the forces of Nature could be and why all creatures held the unseen Lord of the Stars in such awe. He felt utterly, appallingly alone. He remembered, however, the teachings of his earliest days, which were that he who truly dared, he who held his own life as little, had nothing to fear, and he knew that, as soon as he had gained his strength again, he would have to venture out once more into that dreadful tumult.

  And so he did. He rested a few moments, chose a line of direction which would take him away at an angle from the forest's edge, picked out a landmark in the next lightning flash – a briar clump some twenty ant-lengths away – and then waited for the next lull in the storm. When it came – when the wind fell a little and the rain was not driving quite so hard – he left the shelter of his crevice and sprinted for the briars. Slithering and stumbling, buffeted and soaked, he reached his objective, crouched beneath a leaf and peered out for his next patch of shelter.

  And so it went on. Stage by stage, blindly trusting to his instincts and his natural sense of direction, he made his exhausting way through the forest. The downward slope of the ground helped him; and the thickening of the vegetation, although it did not aid his progress, told him that at least he was travelling further from the red ants' base. He lost all track of time and had no idea how far he had come. His enforced vegetarian diet during the days in captivity had left him in no condition for strenuous exercise such as this, and tiredness and hunger began to take their effect so that he was stumbling instinctively along in a half conscious state.

  Then at last he had a stroke of luck which gave him encouragement and renewed energy. In the middle of one of his wild dashes from one spot of shelter to another he suddenly realized that he was running on firm, even ground for a few steps. He stopped, peering into the darkness for a clue. His antennae told him that, even amongst the general rainsodden smell of the earth around him, there lingered faint traces of old insect scent. Then a flash of lightning – this time from further off – showed him that his suspicions were correct: he had stumbled across a trail. Whether it was the one by which they had come he could not tell, as all individual traces of their own scent would have been washed away, but it seemed to be leading in the right direction and it offered much easier going. Thankfully he decided to follow it. It did not offer so much cover of course, but the storm seemed at last to be abating a little and he chose to brave the hazard of the falling rain in return for the smoother ground. Several times he was struck by hurtling raindrops but he was so soaked already that, apart from the momentary shock and discomfort, it made little difference. He hurried on with new hope.

  Then came an even greater boost to his morale. He had been on the path for some time, making good progress, aided by a steady decrease in the storm's ferocity, when he suddenly heard a hoarse shout behind him which brought him to an abrupt halt.

  'Hey, slow down, can't you? Give me a chance to catch up!'

  With a warmth flooding his heart such as he had rarely felt before, Dreamer waited for a bedraggled and panting Joker to come stumbling up to him. The two ants joyfully embraced antennae in the middle of the track.

  'You were going at such a pace! I thought I'd never catch you!' gasped Joker.

  'I didn't hear your steps with all this rain,' said Dreamer, the pleasure choking his throat. 'How long have you been behind me?'

  'Quite a way. I picked up your scent some time ago. You've made better time than me. I'm lucky to be here at all.'

  'Why?'

  'I took the wrong line to begin with. I almost blundered out of the forest again back near their mound. And then I had to lie low for a bit. There were several parties of red ants about. They've discovered our escape. They were out looking for us.'

  Dreamer's heart sank again. 'That means they must be behind us! They could be following our trail right now!'

  'More than likely. But I think we got a start on them. They were dashing backwards and forwards along the forest's edge, trying to pick up our trail. They didn't realize we had entered the forest so far along. But it can only be a matter of time before they're after us; they know where we'll be headed.'

  'I wonder if it was Fleet who raised the alarm,' Dreamer conjectured.

  'Not necessarily,' said Joker. 'It wouldn't have taken them long to find the guards anyway. Come on, we must move fast. Those red beasts are far too speedy for my liking.'

  He set off again down the trail with Dreamer panting behind him, the latter's antennae now much more alert for signs of pursuit behind.

  As they went the storm continued to abate until the thunder had dwindled to a mild grumble in the distance and the rain had eased to a gentle drizzle. There was even a faint glow through the clouds from time to time, as the moon struggled to reassert her presence in the heavens. Despite the ominous fear of pursuit behind them, Dreamer felt a sense of security and renewed calm as he loped along behind Joker's comforting bulk. The experience of being so totally alone in those strange parts with the terrifying ferocity of the storm about him was one which he would never forget, and now that he once more had companionship in the midst of danger he realized what a precious thing it was to him, and in the secret core of his soul was deeply grateful.

  They had been travelling for some time, stopping only for the briefest of rests, when Joker called over his shoulder, 'I think this is our old trail. I keep thinking I recognize parts of it.'

  Dreamer had been suspecting the same thing. It was an instinctive feeling rather than any precise recognition, brought about by subtle indications: a fleeting combination of herbal scents, the shape of a tree-trunk, a particular curve in the path. He began to think hungrily of their hidden store of spider meat and to wonder whether Snake's Tongue had made it there before them. If imagination wasn't playing tricks on them and they were indeed on the right path, then the place couldn't be far off. He only hoped that the red ants hadn't anticipated their first destination and sent a party by another route to cut them off there.

  They almost passed the spot. If Snake's Tongue had not been alert, listening to their approaching footfalls, they might well have run right past it. His hiss came as they were passing a patch of rye-grass at the side of the trail and brought them up sharp. They peered towards the dark outline of the grass clump from which the sound had seemed to come, and only then did Dreamer recognize it as the one in which t
hey had hidden from the party of red ants on their approach journey and the place where the spider had attacked them. With an exclamation of delight he plunged towards it, Joker following close behind, and they were reunited with their leader as he stepped forward out of the shelter of the grasses. For once Snake's Tongue allowed his own emotion to show and it was evident that he was as pleased to see them as they were to see him.

  'Well done, well done!' he kept repeating as they touched feelers in joyful greeting. 'We made it! How are you both?'

  'Exhausted,' gasped Dreamer.

  'And famished,' added Joker. 'Is the spider's body still there?'

  'No,' replied Snake's Tongue. 'But there's something better. The grubs have got to it and they've laid their eggs there. There's quite a feast. Come.'

  He led the way to where they had hidden the spider's corpse and revealed where he had scraped away the protective covering of leaves and humus. The empty husk of the spider's carapace lay there, stripped almost clean of flesh, and within the hollow shell lay a pale, succulent mass of eggs with here and there the wandering figures of hatched maggots in attendance. The two hungry ants wasted no time. Ignoring the small, shambling forms of the grubs themselves, they pounced on the delicious orbs and ate ravenously. It was the first animal protein they had eaten in a long time and their bodies absorbed the energy-giving food gratefully. In between mouthfuls they briefly told Snake's Tongue of their escape, and of Joker's discovery of the red ant search parties.

  Snake's Tongue's face was grave in the pale light of the approaching dawn. 'That's bad,' he said. 'I had hoped they wouldn't discover our disappearance for some time. But I suppose that was too much to expect. Perhaps Fleet did raise the alarm after all.' He glanced back towards the trail. 'I'll go and listen on the trail. Fill your crops and then join me.' And he was gone with that astonishingly rapid, darting motion of his.

  'Not much wrong with him,' observed Joker, his mouth full.

  'I'm glad,' said Dreamer. 'I was frightened that he might not be here.'

  'Take a lot to stop that one,' said Joker. He brushed some of the sticky egg substance from his mandibles with a foreleg, and sighed happily. 'That's more like it! I'd forgotten what a proper feed tasted like.' He drank from a raindrop on a nearby stem.

  Dreamer too was feeling much better for the nourishment and his spirits had risen accordingly. Now, however, he also became more attuned mentally and his thoughts turned to the danger of pursuit. 'We'd better get back to him,' he muttered, cramming a last few of the tiny eggs down into his crop.

  Joker did likewise and the two hurried to where Snake's Tongue stood motionless on the track, his one good feeler to the ground, listening.

  'What can you hear, Dreamer?' he asked, his voice grave.

  Dreamer laid his long, slender antennae on the ground and listened intently. The sounds of the forest were all around: the rustle of foliage as the wind stirred the vegetation; the patter of water-drops falling from the still-sodden trees; the distant, heavy impact of a deer's hooves far off. Then he became aware of another signal, a faint but steady vibration, filtering through the other sounds from far back along the trail. He listened carefully for a few moments, then lifted his head and looked at Snake's Tongue.

  'It's them,' he said simply. 'There's a party following down the track.'

  Snake's Tongue nodded. 'I thought so,' he said. 'How many, do you think?'

  'I'm not sure,' said Dreamer. 'They're too far back. But they're coming fast.'

  'Right,' replied Snake's Tongue. He looked at them each in turn. 'We've a long way to go. Are you ready to run?'

  Dreamer and Joker nodded. Without another word Snake's Tongue turned on the narrow trail and, with the refuge of the darkness vanishing moment by moment around them, set off at a heart-pounding pace towards home.

  18

  Fleet's reaction, when he had caught sight of the three fugitives amongst the work party leaving the mound, had surprised himself as much as it had them. He could never afterwards quite explain how a highly trained and committed soldier such as himself could have permitted them to continue unchallenged in the way he had. It was a purely instinctive, spur of the moment response which, as soon as it had happened, he could not retract. There was something about the three smaller ants, with their strange lifestyle, which had touched a chord deep within his conditioned, uncompromising being. Their conversations together while they had been in his custody had aroused unsuspected emotions within him, had touched on aspects of life which he had hitherto never allowed himself to consider, and in that split second when he held their fate so completely within his grasp he could not bring himself to be the instrument of their destruction.

  Immediately after the incident, however, he realized that he had placed himself in a very awkward position by not effecting their recapture. He was responsible for their safe-keeping and to have to admit to The Spider that he had failed in that duty would be to incur his leader's awesome wrath. However, he had no choice but to do so, and he knew that his best chance was to make an immediate clean breast of his failure, though not of course of his subsequent spontaneous compounding of that failure.

  Upon entering the mound he sent the two soldiers with him off on some mission and headed for the chamber where his captives had been held. He arrived to find that the attack on the guards had only just been discovered. Several soldiers were milling disconcertedly around the two inert bodies. Such an action on the part of captive ants was virtually unknown within the colony and the soldiers looked uncertainly to Fleet for guidance. He ordered them to collect search parties and to wait for instructions while he went to face his leader.

  His immediate and contrite admission was probably what saved him from the full repercussions of The Spider's ire. Also the sheer improbability of the captives' bold escape. On hearing the news the gigantic insect stared for a long moment at his subordinate in sheer disbelief that three such paltry creatures could have effected a coup of that nature against his own magnificent forces. Then he roared his condemnation at the unfortunate Fleet, who bowed his head in suitably humble contrition.

  When he had worked the fury out of his system The Spider thought for a moment. Then he turned his grim eye once more upon his officer. 'Well, we shall have to take a look at this intriguing colony, which breeds such impudent ants,' he said. 'As soon as I can muster sufficient forces I shall turn my attentions in that direction. Meanwhile, you had better go in pursuit of those three presumptuous escapers, and if you don't wish to pay the penalty for your negligence you had better see that you catch them. Go.'

  Fleet went. He knew that now was not the time for further aberrations of his duty and that, if he was to reinstate himself in his leader's – and indeed his own – estimation, then he must do everything in his power to rectify the situation. He immediately sent out various advance search parties to try to pick up the trail of the fugitive ants in the midst of the gathering storm, while he himself assembled a small party of chosen soldiers and prepared for a long chase.

  Having fed and filled their crops with reserve nourishment the contingent, half a dozen strong, set off into the night through the fury of the thunderstorm. The advance parties had not been able to find the escapers' scents in that fierce weather, but Fleet knew the way they had come and guessed that they must eventually seek out that same trail if they were to find their way home again. The party battled their way through the driving rain and crashing thunder, finding it no less daunting than did their quarry some way ahead of them.

  By the time the storm had abated and a faint greyness silhouetting the huge shapes of the trees around them indicated that the dawn was not far off, he knew that his intuition had been right. One by one they had picked up the scents of the fleeing ants, until now they knew that all three had joined the trail separately and were somewhere ahead of them. Fleet, with that easy gait of his, set a pace that stretched his soldiers' endurance to the limit, and it was a weary force who, having travelled through the night without
a rest, reached the spot where the spider's corpse had been hidden. Here, in the brightening light and the clean air of the storm-washed morning, Fleet called a brief halt while he scouted around the area with his feelers. The plundered maggots' nest and the jumbled trails told their own story. He knew now that the three smaller ants had come together at that place, had fed and had resumed their journey. Moreover, from the freshness of their scents, they could not now be so very far ahead.

  He allowed his soldiers to consume what was left of the unfortunate maggots' nest, and then once more they took to the trail, decreasing with each long, powerful stride the distance between themselves and their quarry.

  Some way ahead Snake's Tongue's little band were running in silence, Dreamer and Joker concentrating on keeping up with the fierce pace of their leader. The going was a little easier now as the rain began to dry off the sodden track, but this brought into sharper focus the steady vibration of the pursuing footfalls behind them. Dreamer, running last of the three, was desperately trying to remember how far they had to go to reach the little riverside mound, which might provide their first chance of sanctuary, and possibly – if any scouting parties were around – of help; and he was also trying to estimate how far behind them the following footsteps were and how fast they were catching up. His calculations did not increase his confidence. He wondered too whether there were any red ant parties ahead of them, but so far at least they had come across no signs.