by Zubin Mathai
Before them stood a field of dried grass, with stiff amber immune to the breeze and outdoing the sun’s brilliant yellow. While the others conferred, with the soldier offering suggestions as to how to proceed, the worker turned and looked back to the tree. She had hoped to feel its presence, even from this distance, but instead only felt the day’s heat on her back and the vibrations of the unfamiliar all around.
“As a future queen, and the only one qualified to lead,” said the princess with a giggle, “I am going to decide that we-” and she paused to glance at the soldier, trying to guess what her plan might be, “- that we go around the grass and then continue east.”
The soldier and beetle looked at each other, and the beetle fluffed out his wings, bringing them back in a flurry of amusement. “I am fascinated by insects who have leaders like queens. I will let you two figure it out.”
Looking to the princess, as she continued her little happy hops, the soldier cleared her throat and angled her head down. “I’m sorry my princess, while that is a great suggestion, my advice is-”
“But aren’t I the leader?” asked the princess, now a little less happy, a bit sulky, as she stopped her hops and tried kicking a grass stalk behind her.
“- yes,” said the soldier, “but, a queen takes advice from advisors. So, respectfully, I would say that going through the grass is fine. It offers cover, and is the straightest path east.”
“Fine,” said the princess, wiping her head dramatically with a leg. “I was going to say that next anyways.” She flapped her wings furiously, barely getting an inch off the ground, and then added, “when I can fly, you all will miss my company.”
The worker looked to the forest of grass, where nothing could be seen but a few inches ahead, and heard it rustling a warning, and she gathered her courage to speak a lack thereof. “Perhaps going around is a good idea,” she said, but no one heard her.
The group entered the forest of dried stalks, with the soldier bravely taking the lead, and then the princess and beetle following. The worker could hesitate no longer — otherwise she’d be left behind. She entered the grass, and the sun and its light disappeared, replaced with a glow above and shade surrounding. When she entered, so focused on keeping sight of the beetle ahead, she did not notice that the breeze had deposited a pink petal on the ground where she had been standing, a dried and crumpled pink petal, drained of color and life.
Sounds found them from all around. They heard animals far away moving through the grass, pushing it aside like it was nothing. Breezes would come, not to check on their progress, but to tussle the grass into pushing them left and right and disorient them. The princess was oblivious, happily chattering, but the worker was worried, reminding herself under her breath, over and over again, that there was nothing for her behind.
The beetle was wise and sensitive and could feel the ant’s worry, so he spoke up to fill the too-empty silence. “I am an old fellow,” said the beetle, “my life has been full of adventures. Can I tell you of some of them, my little friend?”
“Please do,” said the worker faintly, as her antenna spun, trying to make sense of the vibrations and sounds swarming in.
“Well, there was that one time I climbed a stone that every beetle said was impossible. I did not even use my wings.”
The beetle looked ahead and behind, trying to make out through the tangle if the ants were impressed.
“Also, there was a time when dirt had fallen on some youngsters, and I was the only one big enough to go in and burrow them out. I had to go down at least two, maybe three, lengths of my body to find them. My friends still talk about that one at night, as we sit around gazing up to the stars.”
“Yes,” continued the beetle wistfully, “I have lived a long and full life.”
The princess giggled, as the less-than-impressive stories continued to tumble out, and the soldier stopped and turned to the beetle. “Exactly how old are you, our new friend?” she asked.
“Oh, I am the oldest of all the beetles I know. And if I’m lucky,” said the beetle, knocking a leg against her body with a clang, “I’ll reach maybe seven months.”
The three ants all laughed, and the princess tried to do a happy hop, flapping her wings to lift her up, but the soldier held her down with a respectful leg.
When they restarted their march, the beetle turned and looked at the little worker behind him, and smiled. “I know you ants are older, youngsters at a year and old women at two, but we are all different.”
The beetle’s leg touched a tiny pebble amidst the grass, and he tapped it again for emphasis. “This fellow is laughing, for it heard our words, and it says that until you live to a billion, you know nothing.”
The worker looked to the beetle curiously, unsure if he was joking or not.
“If you get still inside, still enough that your heartbeat becomes the world, then nature sometimes whispers to you,” said the beetle as he turned and continued walking.
The worker felt the stillness mentioned, in the beetle’s words themselves, and knew he was not joking, and so she stopped to inspect the pebble. She looked up to ask the beetle a question, but he was already gone, replaced so quickly by the prisoned tangle of amber stalks.
Running with all her might, the worker weaved in and out between the grasses, climbing over dirt mounds and across little ditches, but still she could not find her friends. She called out, and all that came back was a rustling of something big in the grass nearby. She ran in the opposite direction, at one point even climbing a stalk to see, but the breeze at top was too much, and she only needed to cling for life for a few seconds before dropping back to the ground.
She ran and ran, as the grass taunted her with rustles and waves, with its shadows hiding dangers and thickness hiding progress. Suddenly she tripped over a tiny pebble, and it looked so familiar. She reached up to her lone antenna and fell to the ground, dejected, knowing she had been going only in circles.
A vibration came from up ahead, and she saw a blur of movement through the tangle. She called out tentatively. “Beetle? Is that you?”
The movement came again, and she could see some grass shift. She ran forward, fully expecting to see her friends soon step out, for they must have turned around to come looking for her. An especially thick stalk of grass blocked the way, and the ant ran around it, then another and another, following vibrations coming up through her body from the ground, until she finally stepped into a clearing.
A flurry of dust was kicked up, blinding her for a moment, and in a snippet of a daydream, she saw her friends run forward to hug her. But when the dust cleared, there was an immense shape ahead, eclipsing the sun like a mountain, and staring right at her with an eye the size of her body. A robin, with sharp talons and a giant beak, was looming over her, with a worm half in its mouth and half in the ground.
The bird had been tugging at the worm, flapping wings to gain leverage, but all that seemed uninteresting as soon at the ant stepped into the clearing. The robin let go of the worm, which immediately slunk back underground, like a spring let go, and the bird angled her head to get a better look at this tasty intruder.
It brought its giant head close, and opened its beak, and the little worker could see into a darkened throat, smelling death from beyond, where so many bugs like her had come and gone. The bird pecked at the ground right at the ant’s feet, once then twice, sending little swirls of dust up into the air, before it shoved the ant with its beak, sending her flailing onto her back.
Panic flowed in, as the ant tried to right herself, and she wondered if it would be quick and painless. A random thought came through, and she also wondered if maybe this was for the best. She felt at home nowhere anymore, for this world was too scary, and perhaps it would be best if she were no more.
But, then another thought came in, a remembering of the beetle’s words about stillness. Just remembering them, without any effort, made the ant quiet and calm, and she turned over and stood up. The giant bird suddenly closed its beak and
angled its head, bringing it closer as its big eye moved next to the ant’s.
There was a stare down, and the worker had no idea what was going through the bird’s mind, but if it was like her in this moment, perhaps it was nothing at all but calmness.
Suddenly, a buzzing built-up overhead, an angry droning cutting through the air like the sharpest of thorns. A yellow and black, streamlined insect zoomed by, barely above the robin’s head, and it startled the bird enough that it took to wing with a tornado of dust. When the air cleared and the worker was alone, with the bird and zipping bug gone, she could faintly hear her friends up ahead calling out for her.
She stepped out from the last of stalks of grass to meet her friends, and they asked if she was okay. The soldier chuckled when the worker said she had gotten lost, turned around in a few circles, though she did not mention the strange encounter with the bird or buzzing shape.
“This clearing, with no cover nor protection, and in the scorching heat of such a day, is not good for insects like us,” said the soldier as she scanned the expanse before them. A parched yellow dirt stretched out to the east, with no features to break up its monotone.
“There,” said the soldier, angling her head so her one good eye could see, “I think I can make out in those grey blobs over there a patch of stones. If those are indeed stones, we can make it there for a spot to rest and catch shade, and then see if anything is beyond.”
“I can see them easily. They are indeed stones, two small leaning up against a large one,” said the worker.
The beetle looked at the little worker, with her two good eyes, and then looked at the larger soldier, with her little concave depression where second eye had been.
“It is no mystery why one of you two can see a little better,” said the beetle in jest.
The soldier was not amused, and immediately reached up to her missing eye, a reaction she had when her injury was mentioned. She suddenly started feeling a pain in her abdomen, and felt like it spread to behind her eyes, and was reminded that remnants of the poison was still in her system.
The beetle apologized, “I am sorry, my new ant-friend, but I have quite the dry sense of humor, a perfect match for these arid lands.” But he also did not know when to stop. “How did you lose that eye?”
The soldier was not offended by the question, for she knew beetles did not have the same rules of life as ants. She was not even bothered by her friend, the worker, being there, for that one knew of her past. She was only embarrassed that this question was brought up before the princess, someone whom she hoped would learn to admire her strength and valor.
“There was a battle long ago,” said the soldier. “A battle where I lost my honor. I lost my honor because I lost my eye instead of my life. We will leave it at that.”
They began their march across the dry and barren expanse, and all along the way the princess kept excitedly talking and doing test hops with her flapping wings. Even though the soldier told her to conserve her energy, for the heat would soon get to her, she ignore the adult. She chatted about how fun this adventure has been so far, and even grabbed the worker at one point, egging her on to dance with her, and how there must no doubt be something wonderful in the east waiting for them all.
It happened quickly and surprisingly, and even the soldier, whose duty was to keep these charges safe, had no warning at all. It came as a blur of black and yellow, and a horrid buzzing, a deep, taunting droning setting the air above them on fire. And then with a thwack — a thud rippling out deafening vibrations — it landed before them in a wave of excited air.
A wasp stood proudly before them, its slender torso ringed with yellow and its wings easily twice the size of even the large beetle. It reared up on its hind legs, showing them its full height, and then went back quietly to prone to polish the dust from its sharp, soon-gleaming stinger.
“Well, hello, strangers,” said the wasp with a hissing, as if its voice buzzed even when its wings were still. “You seem distant from your homes, visitors to this land. I am surprised you are so far into this barrenness. Just a warning, it is quite dry up ahead, you know.”
And then silence. The wasp said nothing. All it did was continue to rub its stinger, slowly.
“Okay,” said the soldier hesitatingly, as she moved the princess and worker behind her. The beetle moved up to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the soldier. “Thank you for the warning,” the soldier added.
When the wasp offered nothing in return but silence, the soldier moved the two smaller ants to her right, in between her and the beetle. The whole group slowly started walking, giving the wasp as wide a berth as they could. Just as they were passing the wasp, however, it flew up with a flurry of dust and landed again with a thud right in front of them.
“I hate ants,” said the wasp menacingly, with its antennae forming a frown and its black-lined jaws opening up to full-width. “I despise them with every last leg on this body.”
“But you,” said the wasp, as it curled its abdomen under. It pointed its stinger towards the beetle, who tensed up and took a step back, before the wasp finished, “you I have no problem with.”
“I’ve lost count of all the ants I’ve killed,” said the wasp, this time taking a step forward to tower over the soldier and stare down into her eye. “Do you know why I hate ants?”
The soldier did not answer right away. She was sizing up this wasp, preparing for battle, planning and strategizing. She knew she might not survive against such a large foe, but if she were lucky, pincering off a leg, or even that lethal stinger, she might have a chance. If only she had her full contingent of sisters behind her, she thought, before reluctantly answering the wasp, “No, I do not know.”
“I was but a youngster when they attacked,” said the wasp. It brought its stinger to the eye-level of the soldier, but positioned it in front of her missing eye, and not the good one. “A giant, disgusting, swarming army of ants. They came to raid for food, entering our nest as if it were not our home. So many of my kin died that day. But, thankfully, more of them did too. We chased them out. We rebuilt. I became a soldier. A ruthless one. I spend my days killing ants like you.”
The wasp moved its stinger even closer, brushing against the empty socket of the soldier, curious why it was not even budging. An unlucky fly chose that moment to lazily buzz through, and with the speed of lightening, the wasp spun and impaled it on its stinger. The wasp then kicked it off, dropping it in its final, writhing death throes at the feet of the ants and beetle.
At the distraction, the solder grabbed the moment. “Run!” she yelled, “run for the rocks!” And then she charged forward, bounced off the fly to land on the wasp’s back and begin biting its eyes from behind. The wasp yelled and bucked, but the soldier held on bravely.
The beetle shoved the princess and worker, snapping them out of their shocked stare, and the three began running for the rocks with all their might. They had only taken half a minute’s worth of steps before they saw the soldier fly above them, tumble mercilessly through the air, and then land in a crumpled and pained heap before them.
The soldier groaned and unfurled, trying to lift herself up to stand. A blur of yellow and black, a wave of wind, and suddenly the princess disappeared from the midst of the group. The next time the soldier looked up, the wasp had the princess a few inches away, on her back, with a giant stinger pointed right at her abdomen.
“No!” yelled the soldier, slowly bringing herself up to stand. “Please do not harm her!”
The soldier took a step forward, as the wasp lowered its stinger, resting it directly against the soft and pale abdomen of the princess. This time, the princess did not giggle, or try any happy flaps of her tiny wings. She just lay there frozen, with eyes wide and imploring, trying to move her head to find the comforting sight of her kin and friends.
A wind far up above blew through, and on its back was a fresh pink petal. The worker saw it out of the corner of her eyes, but she had to ignore it. She ignored the
dance, and especially the delicate whispers which tried to come, and thankfully, they were polite enough to not try again.
“She is all I live for,” cried out the soldier, falling to her knees. “She is my charge, the last hope for my honor. She is innocent, young. Please do not harm her.”
The wasp looked up and nodded slowly. What a foolish soldier, it thought, giving away its weakness so easily.
“One thing I hate more than ants,” said the wasp with its hissing, “is ants who are soldiers. If killing this tiny one will bring you torment, then doing so will make my day.”
The wasp primed its stinger by raising it up a quarter of an inch, tensing its muscles along its spine and abdomen, readying for the killing thrust.
“This cannot be allowed to happen!” yelled out the beetle, and he ran forward with legs churned to desperation, ran forward like a fully armored tank, and smashed into the side of the wasp. The wasp flew off a whole foot before crashing into the ground. The beetle did not pause its charge, running forward, lowering its head, and bashing the wasp again with full fury and momentum.
“Run for the rocks you fools! Run!” yelled the beetle as it readied for another charge.
The soldier did not hesitate. She ran forward and grabbed the princess and threw her onto her back. She spun and raced for the small pile of stones, yelling at the worker to keep up. The trio dove into the tiny space between the two smaller rocks, and then inched their backs up against the larger one. There was a tiny space, just large enough for them and their panic, and they could see out the crack they just dove through.
The light of day entered through the tiny crack, scorching heat did too, and then, furious sounds. There was smashing and buzzing, scrapes of a stinger against a hard shell, yells of torment and cries of rage. The ground shook, vibrations came to keep the ants blindly informed, and then, suddenly, the noises stopped. Now only dry dust came in through the crack, for one second, two, and then five.
“It is safe,” came the baritone deepness of the beetle’s voice, and it echoed into the space the ants hid in, wiping clean their cowering. The soldier went out first, slowly and carefully, and then motioned for the other two to follow.
The beetle was covered in scrapes, and one of its legs was bent at an impossible angle. It limped for a few steps and then stopped to rest. The ants dashed over to their new friend, running their antennae over its skin in thanks and appreciation, and the worker was sad she had but one to use. They saw the disturbed dirt where the battle had taken place, and saw the pinpricks in the ground where the stinger had thrust and missed its mark.
“That foul beast is gone,” said the beetle, as it winced in pain. “I banged her up pretty good.”
The beetle tried taking a few steps, but the pain was too much, and it fell over onto its side. The worker went to the beetle and used all her strength to delicately roll it back, keeping tender eye contact the whole time, and then lifted as much weight as she could from the broken leg. Together like that, beetle and loving ant-crutch, and with the soldier and princess following, the group made it back to the stones to rest and recuperate.
“I banged her up pretty good,” said the beetle again, once they were all safe inside the rocks. “But she will return. And we will have to be ready when she does.”
eight
Wonder