It was late afternoon and she finished her usual routine in the pig pen. It took longer than usual, because the animals were wary of her presence. She had to be extra careful not to scare them, so they wouldn't start squawking again. Normally, the girl would rest for a bit before being given a new task, but today she headed towards the house with a different plan in mind.
The old woman wasn't happy to see the hunchback girl who had actually lived for 20 years in her barn. Holding a magnifying glass in her left hand, she sorted through the buckwheat scattered on a piece of paper. A tiny pile of barely visible stones was moved aside. When the sorted grain pile became significant, the old woman folded the paper and poured it into the pot. Finally, she looked at the hunchbacked girl. Any question Bug might have asked would probably be met with irritation: "What?"
"It's Friday today. Can I go for a walk?"
Friday was a sole day of rest in Kushane, but the elderly couple often used their foreign origin as an excuse to give tasks even on that day. The old woman stared at Bug and began berating her for her laziness. She nagged so long and emotionally, that she started to pause between words to catch her breath. 'Honestly, she can nag anyone to death. At least someone who is not used to it.' Bug patiently waited until the woman ran out of breath and then repeated her question. Finally, stubbornness breached the wall, and the tired woman gave up.
"Fine, do what you want, but don't expect any dinner tonight."
The girl nodded, desperately trying to hide her grin behind her long brown hair. The possibility of meeting the swarm in the light of day seemed like a dream. Wolf ants were active mostly at night and slept during the day, so there would probably not be much work to do. However, the possibility of seeing the nest from a new side made her feel excited. And she achieved this possibility through her own persistence.
Before the old woman could change her mind, Bug quickly left. It was too early to head for the evergreen holly bushes, as someone might see her there. She wasn't sure if she could change during the day. Bug looked carefully around to make sure no one was following her. Fortunately, her bullies had been too busy recently because of school. The long vacation was the reason why Bug disliked summer. Children and teenagers had too much free time to entertain themselves. Autumn and spring were much better in that regard, and short winter days were spent mostly inside the barn by her. Despite the cold and monotonous tasks, she could at least avoid crowds.
Bug stepped into the forest. It was harder than she expected to find the right path in human form. The girl thought she remembered the route, but when she couldn't rely on her nose, it became clear how important the smell was for finding her way. Walking on two legs also slowed her down. 'I might not reach the nest by the end of the day after all.' It was a bit upsetting, but at least she would be there when everyone started waking up.
She constantly questioned the path she took, but when she reached the familiar creek, her nervousness faded away. The animals she was used to seeing at night were sleeping, and instead, brightly colored birds were flying from tree to tree. Their voices mixed together, creating an unfamiliar song. Bug was more used to northern birds than local southern ones. In addition, most of them avoid human settlements, so she only heard a few of these chirping voices before. Unlike their counterparts, known to humans, the colorful feathers of these birds were not just for beauty. They were a warning - "Do not eat me". In this regard, they were much like bright frogs or snakes. But their poisonous nature was not an ultimate salvation from human aggression. Boys in the village often practiced arrow-shooting and sometimes caught birds for fun. This is why some birds have learned to be wary of humans. Others choose to settle closer to houses because humans scare away their natural enemies - gekkotoads.
Bug passed by a few on her way to the nest. Usually, she wouldn't notice them. Gekkotoads were hiding perfectly, changing their usually grayish with green spots skin color to their surroundings. But now, after spending many nights as a wolf, she could spot them vaguely, feeling their smell similar to dry and dusty grass. A predator with a round body the size of a soccer ball would climb up the tree trunk and wait in ambush in the upper layers of the forest. When a bird flew into its range, the gekkotoad would use its tongue to catch it. Immune to a bird's poison, it was not favored by humans because of its habit of silently jumping out of nowhere to change hunting grounds. Bug was indifferent to it most of the time. The only time she was upset about the gekkotoad was when she saw it catch a honey squirrel instead of a bird. It was natural, but she still felt pity for the small furry animal that had fallen victim to its carelessness.
The girl took a break at the creek. The stream was clear and the long walk had made her thirsty. However tempting the water was, Bug didn't risk drinking it in her human form. The sky was starting to be dyed red. She wasn't sure if it would count, but it was worth a try. Bug took off her clothes and shoes and hid them between two large rocks. Despite being alone in the forest at sunset, she cautiously looked around. Taking off her underwear and being completely naked in the open was still embarrassing. Bug took a deep breath, then fully undressed. She sat down beside the creek, holding her knees with her arms. The girl wasn't fully sure how the turning worked, so she thought about the swarm for a while before looking in the stream.
Her reflection changed to that of a wolf ant. With a feeling of satisfaction, she continued her journey. Taking the same path every night, it didn't feel like a blissful walk anymore. It had become her enjoyable routine. She usually met workers on her way to her nest, carrying food or searching for resources. Greeting them and exchanging news were some of the things she looked forward to most. Such "small talks" were something villagers didn't share with her. They were a part of daily life and a privilege only for those who were considered part of society. Bug dreamt that someday he would be able to experience this interaction, and it came true, albeit in a rather unexpected way.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
She hadn't reached the nest yet when a brief, yet strong and out of place fragrance startled her. Bug stopped for a moment. With a raised paw, she sniffed, trying to identify the direction of the smell. Just like a village dog, she lowered her head, moving towards the confusing smell. It became stronger until she spotted a barely visible part of a footprint. pointed her nose at this footprint, almost touching the dry ground, and sniffed. It was a terrible mistake on her part. The strong and spicy smell hit her sensitive nose like an old woman's iron pan during her numerous arguments with her husband. Bug sneezed and coughed, shook her head andtried to rub her muzzle with her paws.
When she finally could breathe normally again, she sat down and stared at the footprint. She knew the smell all too well - pepper. But what was normal in the kitchen felt so outlandish in the middle of the forest. 'Why would anyone leave it here?' It was too strong to have been spilled by oversight. Someone had done it on purpose. Bug stood up. Slowly, at first, she picked up a trace and followed it. She didn't need to lower her head to the ground - the smell was strong, like the heavy and sweet perfume that people in Kushane loved. Whoever had spilled the pepper had used it to cover something important, like their own smell or the smell of their trophies.
Hasten the pace, Bug shortened the distance between herself and the "pepper man". As if he felt the chase, he started to confuse his tracks, yet his efforts ended in vain. Bug persisted in following the trace. She almost ran when she finally reached the small meadow. Caught up in the moment, she stepped onto the grass, leaving behind the cover of trees and bushes. There, on the other side of the field, a man was waiting for her.
He was rather short, with fair skin and a shaved head. His simple clothes, without any ornaments and dull colors, were covered in mud. A hunting knife and a small bag with pepper were hanging from his belt. The man held a short but thick spear with the sharp head pointing at him. He was not a local hunter. It was common for hunters to receive permission to work in several bordered territories in order to avoid being accused of trespassing or spying. But this land was too far from the West or South, and instead bordered the walls and the outer lands. It looked like Bug had run into a poacher.
The best way to deal with poachers is to avoid them, but she couldn't afford to do that. That was the second thing she noticed - in the left hand, the man was holding a wolf ant's cub. The cub was hanging helplessly, tied and muzzled. She had heard stories about how experienced hunters use tricks to catch wolf ants' younglings alive, while adults were killed in retaliation for killing livestock or people. Cubs were valuable only if they were alive. Bug never questioned why. It was something she just took for granted. Many desperate men risked their lives to catch one. Some failed and paid with their lives, some prevailed and were generously rewarded in the capital.
Yet this time, the hunter was holding a cub fromBug's nest. For whatever reason, the man took him, the whole swarm would be sad about its disappearance. Bug hissed slowly approaching the man. It would be for the best if she could just scare him away, pressing him to leave the pup behind. It seemed like her wish had come true - the man bent down and placed the unconscious cub on the grass. Bug hid her mandibles. Looking at the man's darned clothes, an old belt and worn shoes she felt remorse. The hunter took a step back. She walked toward the puppy, but hesitated, suddenly smelling a weird smell. Her wavering movements led to the hunter's bold and unexpected actions. The man raised his spear above the pup. Alarmed by the threat to the puppy's life, Bug jumped over the remaining distance in two jumps.
She had no plan and no intention of hurting the man. It would have been fine to push him away from the cub, but the last leap she took did not reach its target. The solid ground beneath her hind legs crumbled, and her claws went through the empty air. She was lucky enough to grab onto the cliff with her front legs. Dumbfounded, Bug frantically tried not to fall, clawing at the ground with her paws. Even without looking, she knew what lay beneath - the wolf pit.
A second blunder of the day, this time deadly. Her paws were sliding on the grass and loose soil at the edge of the pit. Bug tightened his wrists in an attempt to pull herself up. But the hunter was already above her. Unlike her, the man did not hesitate. With perfected movements, he raised his spear. She wanted to shout and plead with him to stop, but no words could be spoken in wolf form.
It should have been the end for her. But the spear never reached its target. A pair of robust mandibles clamped around the hunter's neck. The man didn't even have time to scream - the sharp blades inside the mandibles cleanly severed his head. It fell into the pit, hitting Bug on the way. The headless body swayed for a moment, then, like in slow motion, fell beside the edge of the pit. A wolf ant, large and with a black mane, appeared on the meadow in time to kill the hunter. The soldier checked the lifeless body, then turned to his kin in need. Everything happened in the blink of an eye. Astonished, Bug nearly forgot to hold on tightly. Her back legs were slipping and dragging her down.
The male soldier bent down and used the same pair of mandibles that had served as a deadly weapon a moment before to grab Bug by the scruff of her neck. He pulled her out of the pit and stepped back, giving her space and time to breathe. Bug lay down and lowered her head on her forelegs. She was trembling and couldn't sort out her feelings. She had miraculously escaped death, but she couldn't bring herself to look at the remains of the hunter. If he had been hunting alone, there was a high chance his body wouldn't be found or buried properly. While keeping her eyes on the wolf ant, Bug bit by bit started to calm down. started to calm down bit by bit. The soldier used his mandibles to untie the unconscious cub, but he was bewildered by a dog muzzle. 'The man must have used some kind of sedative on the youngling.' Now that her shivering had stopped, Bug approached the soldier and helped him cut the muzzle's leather straps. She immediately felt his gratitude, which made her feel shy and embarrassed. If anything, it was she who needed to thank him for saving her life. But was it right for her to do so if a man had been killed?
The wolf ant carefully took the still sleeping cub. It was time to return to the nest and pass on the news that the missing pup had been found unharmed. 'Then again, he saved two lives by taking one', even if Bug did not know what would happen to the pup, she knew that life outside the swarm could be unbearable for a youngling. So she thanked the soldier, lightly rubbing her shoulder against his black mane. The wolves hurried back to the nest. The hunter's body, as well as the moral dilemma Bug had thought about - all was left behind at the meadow.