I’ve never taken enough notice of my bees to see any of them dance. But now that I’ve seen them dance, I have to say I’d watch it on tv. Not because they’re good dancers or anything. Simply because seeing a bee dance is such a novel sight, especially when said bee is around the same size as you.

Their insect appearance is not as terrifying as I would’ve initially thought. With the energy they put into their acrobatics, it’s difficult to see them as anything but a cute bee. Well, as cute as bees can get. Their furry bodies definitely help them become more aesthetic to my human mindset.

Soon, the dance comes to an end. The figure eights end suddenly and the lone worker looks at me with exasperation as if saying

Hurry up back to the hive, you useless drone!

Hurtful words, but I can’t help but be relieved that despite the changes I’ve gone through at least one thing remains the same. I’m useless.

In fact, I used to really dislike drones. They’re a waste of space and resources, not only do they contribute nothing to the hive but they also elicit worker bees to feed them early on. They can’t even put in the effort to feed themselves. Plus with no stinger, if the hive is attacked there’s not much they can do besides buzz around an intruder and distract them.

The distaste I had for drones went so far, at one point I’d purposefully remove drone broods from my hive if I saw them. Later on I stopped caring since regardless, my little ladies would produce a metric ton of honey every year.

Wait, did I actually understand what she was trying to convey?

My perpetual silence is met with a huff of displeasure and she flies off with little fanfare this time.

Please don’t go! I promise I won’t be a burden. Actually I take that back, please feed me!

My mental shouts and heavy breathing bring me no response from the worker. Damn, now I need to add communication to the list.

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Within seconds, she’s out of sight and all I can do is wish she was still here dancing.

Hmmm let’s go over my options. I currently can’t fly, I can’t talk, but I can crawl. Crawling wouldn’t be my preferred option, not like I have a choice though. The longer I’m outside the hive, the less safe I become. The last thing I need is some bird or insect deciding I’m its next meal.

The problem is distance. I can’t really tell how far away anything is. Normally, I would use my height as a measurement. But with me being a miniscule fraction of my original almost six feet, I haven’t the slightest idea.

The grass alone is taller than my house in comparison to my current height, let alone the half dead tree the hive is located in. What I should’ve been able to cross in two steps now looks like a mile long walk.

All I can do is start trucking I guess, hopefully bees can’t get leg cramps.

Thank goodness the grass is fairly sparse so I can just weave in between the stalks while staying on the moist dirt. If the grass was more densely populated then I’d probably have to jump from blade to blade. While it would help my coordination in the long run, I’m already nearing my mental limits and some parkour won’t help with that.

Besides mental fatigue, it seems my new body doesn’t mind walking nonstop so much. This almost relaxing walk with huge blades of grass around me isn’t so bad. I wouldn’t mind more giant greenery in my daily life. Not a fan of giant insects though.

I’m especially not a fan when I come across a dense line of ants. Each one of these ants are almost similar in length to me. I’ve seen what a group of ants could do to crabs, I’d hate to have to experience firsthand their hospitality and hunger.

Adding a detour to my journey isn’t that big of a deal because with how close I am to the hive’s tree, it’s not like I can get lost. Eventually all journeys come to an end, and I reach the tree trunk.

I don’t have the slightest clue what type of tree it is. I was never that interested in being able to identify trees by its bark. Not that it matters what type of tree it is I suppose, but it would’ve been nice to at least be able to make a guess about how tall it might be based on its species.

Now for the hardest part, the vertical climb. Even with three pairs of limbs and claws on them, I still don’t like my chances. Anyway, enough procrastination, let’s just get this started. Place one leg in front of the other, grab on with my claws, and pull myself further up. Rinse, wash, and repeat until exhaustion.

What would’ve been a minute worth of flying, now feels like hours worth of climbing. Luckily, the bark doesn’t change in quality too much and it stays easy to latch onto.

And so I keep climbing, and climbing, and climbing. Until exhaustion has me thinking my legs will fall off. My hunger pangs ever increasing in intensity. One leg in front of the other. Over and over again.

Finally, after what could only be hours as the sun is starting to set. Turning the once sunny forest into an increasingly dark and menacing woods. Suddenly the light hum of bees’ wings flapping soon becomes the only thing I can hear as it intensifies in volume when I draw nearer. I can’t wait to find one of the nursery worker bees and get her to feed me.

Food and shelter here I come! The pampered lifestyle of a drone is going to be the best… even if it only lasts a few months. Might as well make the most of my short lifespan. On the bright side, I may be able to steal some royal jelly, I’ve always wondered what that would taste like.