The Departure
All size and all things are relative, the antling, Glorty, was told by his uncles as the boy gazed up at the huge blades of grass that stretched upwards towards the blue sky. The grass swept the sky back and forth, hypnotically moving with each breath of the wind.
To the antling, this only meant one thing: life wasn't fair. Why should he be forced to live in a world obscured by tasteless grass? He'd been to the top of the blades many times. He knew there was a bright, unrestricted world around their underground home. He couldn't help but want more, but he knew his limitations.
While his perception of the world was little more than viewing life through a pixelated phone screen set to the lowest resolution, which to him was no better than a rough grid of blurry dots, he was happy with it as he knew no different.
He was able to recognise nearby motion and shapes to allow him to find his way without bumping into much. However, distant details smeared into vague colours to defy his curiosity. He wished he could experience more of the world. He wanted to find a way so he could.
He announced his intentions to leave to his uncles who, to his surprise, cheered him on, and he left with their blessing. His foraging trips with others had allowed him to follow established landmarks that he would follow as far as he could.
He was conscious that he needed food for the journey, which he knew he'd find at the great fallen tree, a log that had long sustained his home with food.
Once through the log, he would head beyond the boundary to the forsaken lands where many ants had not returned from. He'd heard stories and legends of those who'd returned with sweet marvels, and foods shaped like stones, twigs and trees that tasted nothing alike.
The ant's six legs took deliberate steps across the vegetation underfoot, across the leaves and tickling moss, through hollowed out logs and even under the feet of a distracted beetle.
There was a cry for help, a shout in a rudimentary language that all grubs learn when they first emerge, but not in a voice or tonality they recognised. Glorty saw the reason for the beetle's distraction. The beetle's prey: a single silverfish, backed into a corner. The horned beetle advanced, its hooked legs took one menacing step after another, pincers clacking as they opened and shut.
The silverfish yelped once more as doom loomed, but the brave little ant went on the offensive. It sped forward, and clambered onto the beetle's back leg. It used the momentum of its approach to shift onto the back of the beetle, digging its feet in between the gaps in its carapace. It bit down on a soft part between with its mandibles. The pain caused the beetle to buck and rock up onto its hind legs, as to rid itself of the pesky ant.
The distraction gave the silverfish time to escape. It darted through into a small tunnel and out of sight, which left the ant to face the beetle alone.
It was clearly no match for the hulking brute and began to feel its leg joints weakening as it struggled to hold on.
Something large slammed into the ant a moment later. It was sent flying, in the confusion as it wondered if the beetle had taken to the air to crush it against the wall or ceiling. An impossible feat due to the low ceiling of the tunnel.
It was then that Glorty saw the beetle ahead twirling and grunting, with no idea that the ant had been knocked off its back.
Glorty, looking around, saw its saviour, with long antenna and powerful legs. The springtail looked down and offered an appendage. The ant hooked on and rolled off its back. There was an angry chittering sound that came from the beetle, which could only mean that it had caught sight of them and was preparing to attack.
With barely a thought, the springtail sprung, leaping up out of the hole in the log's roof. As frustrated chitters echoed from below, Glorty introduced himself in the old tongue to the springtail, who told him her name was Hasamila.
As they walked on, Glorty heard the familiar voice of the silverfish that had been in trouble earlier. It was grumbling and groaning about 'horrible beetles' and nearly being eaten. Glorty popped his head through a hole and shouted "Ahoy!" to the forlorn fellow.
The silverfish jumped with a start. It dove into a hole and stayed in the darkness. "No need for hiding, I'm just checking in. That was quite the scare you had, my friend," Glorty hollered.
The silverfish poked its head out nervously and stared. "A scare? I'll say... that vegetation-muncher eyed me as supper!" the silverfish said. "A touch of madness must have crossed its mind." Glorty agreed, as Hasamila spoke up, "There’s a lot of that going around. Probably the mushrooms. It’s always the mushrooms."
The silverfish noticed a vibration through the wood of the log that felt like legs skittering through in the darkness, which spooked it enough to make a dash through the hole that Glorty was peering down through.
The three bugs were now grouped together on top. "Let's get moving. There are nastier things than beetles about," Hasamila warned.
Glorty, sensing something, looked up. Following the fuzzy edges of the nearby grass upward, he then noticed a dark smudge fluttering above. He followed his instinct and warned the others, hoping they could calm his nerves by telling him what he'd seen, though he doubted the others could see much better than he could.
At the mention of danger, the silverfish zipped back into the hole, soon followed by Hasamila and Glorty. The trio found themselves back in the darkness. It sounded like the beetle was rustling through the loose bark behind them. Ahead there was scuttling, but the source was unknown.
They moved together, through the darkness away from the beetle, looking for a way out. Hoping to find an exit closer to the ground where they could use leaves for cover.
A skittering sound surrounded them. It was hard to tell where it was coming from, but they hoped that whatever it was had been put off by the number of creatures in their group.
There was a sudden echoing sound from outside, a deafeningly loud crunching sound combined with immense ground vibrations that made the whole log shudder. Whatever was outside was huge and getting closer. There were then two huge thundering crunches and all went silent.
This was followed by an almighty crunch and a series of creaks as the log's ceiling was suddenly put under a huge amount of pressure, but the fibres seemed knitted together well enough to prevent a collapse.
An acrid smell wafted through the log shortly after. The smell was a combination of dead leaf and tree that didn't remind Glorty of anything in this part of their woodland home.
The creatures that lived within the log were clearly flustered by the loud noise, the smell and the vibrations had unsettled them. A wave of the creatures scurried towards Glorty, Hasamila, and the silverfish. Something had spooked them. It was clear they were rushing to make their escape.
What had likely started as an uneasy gathering amongst neighbours had now turned into a chaotic dash down the tunnel as all different types of creatures were stampeding towards them.
The silverfish knew what to do. "Follow me!" he shouted to Glorty and Hasamila, who followed quickly.
The silverfish nervously revealed their name was Pythag, as he led them into a tight dark maze of tunnels. They appeared to know every turn and led them through the tunnels that avoided direct connection to the world outside that smelled weird.
It was clear he wasn't the only one who knew these tunnels. There was a scratching, scraping sound nearby that was accompanied by a scurrying of feet that had a different pace and weight to the beetle they encountered earlier.
Glorty advised they should scout ahead to make sure the area was safe. Hasamila, the springtail hopped upon a high ledge to view from above, while Glorty stepped forward, pushing slowly up to the corners. He used his antennae in combination with its limited vision to track any movements within.
There was something in the darkness he knew. He could tell by the sweet smelling scent that had managed to break through and overpower the musty aroma coming from the log, at least to his senses.
Hasamila watched the creature from above awaiting instruction as Glorty moved back to Pythag to tell them what they had detected.
Pythag shivered at the description of the scent Glorty described, "I think It's a pseudoscorpion!" he said. "A relentless terror in these parts. I've lost a brother, three aunts, twelve uncles, and my great grandpappy to pseudoscorpions... so my sister said. I highly recommend we sneak past it. I know these tunnels. Please, don't make a sound or move about too much or it'll find us. If you'll allow me, I'll have a look for a way out for us."
Pythag darted off silently into the darkness, scaling the walls and looking for a tunnel to escape into. When he'd found the one he returned to Glorty.
Hasamila hopped down to join them, "Whatever it is, it hasn't moved! It has pincers too! A nasty piece of work to be sure!" Hasamila said.
"Pythag says we're facing a pseudoscorpion," Glorty told Hasamila. "We're best off avoiding it entirely."
Pythag nodded. "I've found a tunnel. The pseudoscorpion's busy eating. If we stay quiet, we can slip past."
Suddenly, there was a loud creak and a groan from above. They looked up to see dirt pouring down from above, followed by twigs and part of the roof.
The pseudoscorpion hopped to one side to avoid the danger, which put it in direct eyesight of Pythag.
Pythag froze, as did the others behind him, but the creature didn't move or pounce. It just looked ahead, they knew it was waiting movement to react to.
The springtail quickly realised she was the only one capable of a quick escape. So with a swift movement she hopped up high. The pseudoscorpion sensed the movement and vibration through the ground and darted for the position where she took off from.
What followed was an intense game of statues where Hasamila, the springtail, would hop, causing the pseudoscorpion to chase her, while Glorty and Pythag took advantage of the distraction by moving forward.
Eventually they found themselves in the escape tunnel, joined shortly after by the springtail.
Hasamila had managed to give the pseudoscorpion the slip with a well-timed jump that had forced the charging pseudoscorpion into a rotting part of the wooden wall, where its pincer became stuck.
The Destroyer of Worlds
With daylight ahead, the strange smell of dead leaves and ash got stronger, as it wafted down towards the tunnel towards them.
Then, without warning, there was another huge movement outside as the pressure was released from the roof of the log. Pieces of the tunnel ceiling started to crumble and partially collapse around them in response.
What followed was nought but shadow, the light at the end of the tunnel had been blocked by something huge.
Against the blackness, the strange ashy smell intensified, more so after a flare of light dropped from above past the exit hole. Then when the flare hit the ground, sparks of light flew against the shadowed backdrop.
Moments later a bright light flickered, filling the tunnel mouth and brightness erupted. It was at this moment they knew they'd have to find a different way out. With no obvious route forward they had to turn back. Whereas the air blowing towards them had been cool and refreshing, now it was hot and stifling.
There was a popping, crackling sound as the old timber was caught alight by the fabled phenomenon known only to the ants as the destroyer of worlds.
Licking flames now sought to catch them, racing up the tunnel behind them, forcing them back the way they'd came.
Then, as the hollow log continued to crumble around them, dread filled them as they knew that pseudoscorpion was likely waiting for them in the chamber ahead. Without taking the time to think they just ran.
The Rescue
A series of angry grunts from the side of the room only made them move faster, but there was no approach and the sound of it bearing down never came. In reckless curiosity Glorty looked round. He gasped when he saw the pseudoscorpion was trapped beneath a fallen wood spike.
The pseudoscorpion's eyes did not flash with anger, but there was a distinct look of panic. Glorty looked closer, he realised this was probably the first time, it had ever been afraid.
Knowing the feeling of fear all too well, Glorty stopped dead, his antennae trembling, "Please wait, for pity's sake," Glorty called out to the others. "We can't just leave it there to die!"
“Please wait, for pity’s sake,” Glorty called, antennae trembling. “We can’t just leave it there to die!”
Pythag looked back at him, his head cocked in confusion with eyes darting nervously between Glorty, Hasamila and the trapped Pseudoscorpion, "It just chased Hasamila around this place with no second thought about eating us!" Pythag said.
"My uncles told me when I left home that everything and all things are relative." Glorty said. "The pseudoscorpion has likely lived here alone its whole life, feeding on everything that passes through. That's its reality. If we show it another, we can give it a choice in how it wants to live going forward. I’ve only just left home, and I won’t start my journey with blood on my hands. Will you help me?”
"You're very strange Glorty, I like you." Hasamila said, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can barely breathe and we're moments away from burning to a crisp... and yet, you're arguing for a killer, that would just as soon eat you as look at you. Well, with this fire we could die either way, so I'm in. I'd rather die trying to help someone if I can."
Pythag's jaw nearly hit the floor, as he watched Glorty head towards the pseudoscorpion. Hasamila followed behind. Glorty coordinated efforts to free it.
Reluctantly, Pythag assisted, looping in circles before its greedy eyes, hypnotising the pseudoscorpion to calm it. Hasamila identified weak spots from up high, and pointing them out to help the others.
Glorty's task was structural. He directed the pseudoscorpion with a calm clarity, to move its limbs precisely to free itself.
A calmness, assisted by Pythag's motions, befell the great pincered beast as it realised it was receiving help.
The clever instructions given by Glorty led the pseudoscorpion to move long heavy supports into position to support the fallen log and allowed for the spike to be loosened that enabled the scorpion to be freed.
Once it was free, the pseudoscorpion took a moment to bow in thanks to its rescuers, but with the flames approaching they all knew they had to move on quickly.
The next hole Pythag found was too small for the pseudoscorpion to follow. "Go ahead. I'll catch up!" it said, flicking its claw to usher them on.
Strangely, due to the mild manners of the vicious killing machine they'd just freed. They felt reluctant to do so, leaving the pseudoscorpion behind as a wall of smoke chased behind them, getting ever closer.
Twisting through the splintered tunnels that were quickly filling with smoke, they came face to face once again with the beetle. They could tell that because of its bulk it was unable to escape from this chamber, so it had turned its fear to anger. With its last moments it would go out like a warrior, not cowering or sulking in fear.
Its deep-recessed features, and sparkling coal eyes were enveloped in shadow. With jaws opened wide it unleashed a chittinous roar that sent spittle, half-digested bug parts and hot air from its belly across the chamber.
The trio, who faced it, had nowhere to run. They could only watch as the hooked legs of the beetle scratched the ground to find purchase. It grunted and huffed and began its charge straight for Glorty, who stood tall and proud.
Hasamila prepared a timed hop to knock it off course, while Pythag sprayed the floor with regurgitated slurry with the hope it would make the beetle slide and trip over.
The charge was cut short as a blast from behind the trio erupted. The pseudoscorpion in desperation had thrown itself through the rotten wall, sending soil, dust and wood splinters flying.
Leading with its left pincer, the pseudoscorpion dove for the beetle, grasping its face, pulling itself in close before doing a mid-air twist and latching on with the other pincer to the beetle's shell.
When the pseudoscorpion was in position it bit deep with venomous fangs deeply into its exposed soft parts beneath, pumping it full of potent poison.
The beetle jerked and tossed, swinging the pseudoscorpion from left to right. Though, in its efforts it managed to catch the pseudoscorpion's right pincer in its mandibles, which sliced through the joint, sending a spray of blood against the wall and detaching the pincer.
Its efforts were futile, while the pseudoscorpion's severed right pincer bounced across the floor, grey foam erupted from the beetle's mouth as the poison took hold.
The beetle coughed and spluttered, as its knees gave way. Then in a last defiant effort the beetle flipped itself over trying to expel the poison and unclog its airway from foam. However, all it could do in this final position was to kick its legs helplessly skyward and accept its fate.
With the beetle defeated and the flames growing ever closer behind, the trio sped on through the tunnels ahead. They were now joined by the limping one-pincered pseudoscorpion.
New Horizons
Pythag was aware that they now needed a bigger tunnel for their new companion, so he chose the widest one. All the while being harried by the smoke as it continued to hustle them forward.
The new path led through a partially collapsed chamber, where the tunnel wall had broken away to reveal the outside world. Even though the shapes beyond were only smudges to Glorty’s eyes, he could tell the grass was shorter, and there was more brown flat land, unlike his old home.
The four of them staggered out together, with laboured breaths due to the smoke, blinking as the strange tang in the air caught in the back of their airways.
The log was now behind them, fully alight and slowly collapsing into ash and embers. For a quiet moment, none of them spoke.
“Is… this where the forest ends?” Pythag asked, his voice small.
Hasamila twitched her antennae slowly. “No. Just our part's end. The world keeps going. Forest goes through its changes.” The springtail’s antennae pointed away towards the largest shapes, trying to detect any danger.
Behind them, the one-clawed pseudoscorpion shifted awkwardly, testing its weight on its remaining pincer. Its voice grates against the silence, “The log is gone,” he said quietly and deliberately in a hollow voice that rattled in short breaths. It clicked its remaining pincer, watching it open and close, as if it was the first time. It was clearly a little dazed from the ordeal as it spoke hesitantly as if it had lost something, which it had. It was a hunter who had just lost his hunting ground. “My tunnels. My hiding places. All of them, gone.”
A gust of wind rustled the leaves above as the blazing half-burnt log continued to burn behind them, and blew sparks harmlessly into the open air. Glorty turned, feeling the heat of the dying fire on his back and the cool air ahead on his antennae. “Then you come with us,” he said simply. “We’re leaving what we knew behind as well.”
As he spoke he noticed other survivors were emerging from their own hideaways: spiders creeping from curled leaves, worms threading up through damp soil, as well as mites and tiny beetles that were picking their way across the cooled ashen floor. The fire had not destroyed the world. It had changed it.
Pythag stiffened at the idea of travelling with the pseudoscorpion, as instinct kicked in. But it was tugged harder by the memory of hearing the trapped pseudoscorpion’s fearful cry, which was likely a moment of unfamiliar raw panic for it, “You saved us,” Pythag muttered, not quite looking up. “And we saved you. That counts for something.”
The pseudoscorpion dipped its head, stretching its one remaining pincer out wide. In the closest thing it had to a bow. “I am Falgresh,” it said. “If I go with you, I hunt for you. That is how I pay my debt.”
“Just try not to hunt us,” Hasamila said with a wry click, trying to defuse the tension, while earning a nervous snort from Pythag and a confused pause from Falgresh.
Hasamila continued, “We’re… not food anymore. We’re… what would you call it, Glorty?”
“Family,” Glorty replied, tasting the word. “Even if we don’t look much alike.”
“Look,” Hasamila said quietly, extending its leg away from the direction of the log towards the world beyond. “We should see what's out there.”
Glorty squinted. Although the horizon to his eyes was still long smears of colour and brightness. He knew that somewhere beyond the blur, lay more logs, more tunnels, more excitement and more friendships that he never would have known had he stayed underground.
“It’s still all fuzzy,” he admitted. “The shapes. The edges. I can’t see all of it. Not clearly.”
Pythag glanced back at the smoking ruin of his old home, then forward again. “Maybe we don’t need to see all of it?” Pythag said. “Just enough to reach the next fork.”
“I feel more than I see,” Falgresh said, flexing his remaining pincer. “Until now, it was enough... With one claw I am weak. I need others, for now. You help me; I help you.”
Hasamila gave a short, decisive nod. “Then its settled," Hasamila said with a decisive nod. "This world's too big for just two eyes. Lucky for us,” they added with a small, proud twitch of their antennae, “together we’ve got lots.”
Glorty froze when a shadow passed over the ground above them, something winged overhead. It was clear that the danger out here would be different.
Something tightened inside that made him feel like something deeper within understood his situation before his blurred eyes did, though strangely the blur felt more like an invitation.
“Where do we go?” Pythag asked.
Glorty took a step forward, his feet digging into the rough soil beneath his feet.
“Forward,” he answered. “We go to find a new home. And if the world tries to burn that one too…” He paused, listening to the crackle behind and the hush ahead. “Then we move again. Together this time.”
As the four of them set off across the ash-dusted ground, leaving their homes and the ruined log behind, Glorty found himself smiling.
As they moved they stayed vigilant, watching for shadows, the changing taste of wind, and the detritus of lives being lived to guide their feet. In the wilds they would need they stayed close to each other to survive. They moved between shadows to avoid detection by larger creatures, together they ventured from point to point.
Each saw the world differently. Glorty with his antennae raised high, searched for signs that their travel direction was good. He led when the ground was rough, sensing the hidden paths beneath fallen needles and damp soil.
Pythag, the silverfish darted ahead when light faded, gliding through narrow cracks and hollows that only it could sense.
Hasamila, the springtail stayed close to the shadows, leaping over puddles that seemed like lakes to the others, while Falgresh, the pseudoscorpion lingered last, feeling the tremble of their steps through the earth.
Between them they often mistook the same thing for something else, a leaf’s edge for a rockface, a water drop for falling stone, and even the passing shadow of a bird was once mistaken for the coming of night. They shared their experiences to help each other. Communication was key for navigating the paths ahead.
And though none could see the world as a whole, together they filled in the blanks and managed to move further than any of them could have alone. Their overlapping worlds, stitched side by side through sound, scent, and sight, became a kind of shared map, a world greater than each of their own small ones.
The unlikely company was bound by the journey. Glorty wondered if this was related to what his uncles had said, "All size and all things are relative". Their survival against both the fire and the beetle made them appreciate being alive. Glorty continued to watch the sky as his surroundings blurred and shifted, rewriting his perceived world and perspective.
All size and all things are relative, the antling, Glorty, was told by his uncles as the boy gazed up at the huge blades of grass that stretched upwards towards the blue sky. The grass swept the sky back and forth, hypnotically moving with each breath of the wind.
To the antling, this only meant one thing: life wasn't fair. Why should he be forced to live in a world obscured by tasteless grass? He'd been to the top of the blades many times. He knew there was a bright, unrestricted world around their underground home. He couldn't help but want more, but he knew his limitations.
While his perception of the world was little more than viewing life through a pixelated phone screen set to the lowest resolution, which to him was no better than a rough grid of blurry dots, he was happy with it as he knew no different.
He was able to recognise nearby motion and shapes to allow him to find his way without bumping into much. However, distant details smeared into vague colours to defy his curiosity. He wished he could experience more of the world. He wanted to find a way so he could.
He announced his intentions to leave to his uncles who, to his surprise, cheered him on, and he left with their blessing. His foraging trips with others had allowed him to follow established landmarks that he would follow as far as he could.
He was conscious that he needed food for the journey, which he knew he'd find at the great fallen tree, a log that had long sustained his home with food.
Once through the log, he would head beyond the boundary to the forsaken lands where many ants had not returned from. He'd heard stories and legends of those who'd returned with sweet marvels, and foods shaped like stones, twigs and trees that tasted nothing alike.
The ant's six legs took deliberate steps across the vegetation underfoot, across the leaves and tickling moss, through hollowed out logs and even under the feet of a distracted beetle.
There was a cry for help, a shout in a rudimentary language that all grubs learn when they first emerge, but not in a voice or tonality they recognised. Glorty saw the reason for the beetle's distraction. The beetle's prey: a single silverfish, backed into a corner. The horned beetle advanced, its hooked legs took one menacing step after another, pincers clacking as they opened and shut.
The silverfish yelped once more as doom loomed, but the brave little ant went on the offensive. It sped forward, and clambered onto the beetle's back leg. It used the momentum of its approach to shift onto the back of the beetle, digging its feet in between the gaps in its carapace. It bit down on a soft part between with its mandibles. The pain caused the beetle to buck and rock up onto its hind legs, as to rid itself of the pesky ant.
The distraction gave the silverfish time to escape. It darted through into a small tunnel and out of sight, which left the ant to face the beetle alone.
It was clearly no match for the hulking brute and began to feel its leg joints weakening as it struggled to hold on.
Something large slammed into the ant a moment later. It was sent flying, in the confusion as it wondered if the beetle had taken to the air to crush it against the wall or ceiling. An impossible feat due to the low ceiling of the tunnel.
It was then that Glorty saw the beetle ahead twirling and grunting, with no idea that the ant had been knocked off its back.
Glorty, looking around, saw its saviour, with long antenna and powerful legs. The springtail looked down and offered an appendage. The ant hooked on and rolled off its back. There was an angry chittering sound that came from the beetle, which could only mean that it had caught sight of them and was preparing to attack.
With barely a thought, the springtail sprung, leaping up out of the hole in the log's roof. As frustrated chitters echoed from below, Glorty introduced himself in the old tongue to the springtail, who told him her name was Hasamila.
As they walked on, Glorty heard the familiar voice of the silverfish that had been in trouble earlier. It was grumbling and groaning about 'horrible beetles' and nearly being eaten. Glorty popped his head through a hole and shouted "Ahoy!" to the forlorn fellow.
The silverfish jumped with a start. It dove into a hole and stayed in the darkness. "No need for hiding, I'm just checking in. That was quite the scare you had, my friend," Glorty hollered.
The silverfish poked its head out nervously and stared. "A scare? I'll say... that vegetation-muncher eyed me as supper!" the silverfish said. "A touch of madness must have crossed its mind." Glorty agreed, as Hasamila spoke up, "There’s a lot of that going around. Probably the mushrooms. It’s always the mushrooms."
The silverfish noticed a vibration through the wood of the log that felt like legs skittering through in the darkness, which spooked it enough to make a dash through the hole that Glorty was peering down through.
The three bugs were now grouped together on top. "Let's get moving. There are nastier things than beetles about," Hasamila warned.
Glorty, sensing something, looked up. Following the fuzzy edges of the nearby grass upward, he then noticed a dark smudge fluttering above. He followed his instinct and warned the others, hoping they could calm his nerves by telling him what he'd seen, though he doubted the others could see much better than he could.
At the mention of danger, the silverfish zipped back into the hole, soon followed by Hasamila and Glorty. The trio found themselves back in the darkness. It sounded like the beetle was rustling through the loose bark behind them. Ahead there was scuttling, but the source was unknown.
They moved together, through the darkness away from the beetle, looking for a way out. Hoping to find an exit closer to the ground where they could use leaves for cover.
A skittering sound surrounded them. It was hard to tell where it was coming from, but they hoped that whatever it was had been put off by the number of creatures in their group.
There was a sudden echoing sound from outside, a deafeningly loud crunching sound combined with immense ground vibrations that made the whole log shudder. Whatever was outside was huge and getting closer. There were then two huge thundering crunches and all went silent.
This was followed by an almighty crunch and a series of creaks as the log's ceiling was suddenly put under a huge amount of pressure, but the fibres seemed knitted together well enough to prevent a collapse.
An acrid smell wafted through the log shortly after. The smell was a combination of dead leaf and tree that didn't remind Glorty of anything in this part of their woodland home.
The creatures that lived within the log were clearly flustered by the loud noise, the smell and the vibrations had unsettled them. A wave of the creatures scurried towards Glorty, Hasamila, and the silverfish. Something had spooked them. It was clear they were rushing to make their escape.
What had likely started as an uneasy gathering amongst neighbours had now turned into a chaotic dash down the tunnel as all different types of creatures were stampeding towards them.
The silverfish knew what to do. "Follow me!" he shouted to Glorty and Hasamila, who followed quickly.
The silverfish nervously revealed their name was Pythag, as he led them into a tight dark maze of tunnels. They appeared to know every turn and led them through the tunnels that avoided direct connection to the world outside that smelled weird.
It was clear he wasn't the only one who knew these tunnels. There was a scratching, scraping sound nearby that was accompanied by a scurrying of feet that had a different pace and weight to the beetle they encountered earlier.
Glorty advised they should scout ahead to make sure the area was safe. Hasamila, the springtail hopped upon a high ledge to view from above, while Glorty stepped forward, pushing slowly up to the corners. He used his antennae in combination with its limited vision to track any movements within.
There was something in the darkness he knew. He could tell by the sweet smelling scent that had managed to break through and overpower the musty aroma coming from the log, at least to his senses.
Hasamila watched the creature from above awaiting instruction as Glorty moved back to Pythag to tell them what they had detected.
Pythag shivered at the description of the scent Glorty described, "I think It's a pseudoscorpion!" he said. "A relentless terror in these parts. I've lost a brother, three aunts, twelve uncles, and my great grandpappy to pseudoscorpions... so my sister said. I highly recommend we sneak past it. I know these tunnels. Please, don't make a sound or move about too much or it'll find us. If you'll allow me, I'll have a look for a way out for us."
Pythag darted off silently into the darkness, scaling the walls and looking for a tunnel to escape into. When he'd found the one he returned to Glorty.
Hasamila hopped down to join them, "Whatever it is, it hasn't moved! It has pincers too! A nasty piece of work to be sure!" Hasamila said.
"Pythag says we're facing a pseudoscorpion," Glorty told Hasamila. "We're best off avoiding it entirely."
Pythag nodded. "I've found a tunnel. The pseudoscorpion's busy eating. If we stay quiet, we can slip past."
Suddenly, there was a loud creak and a groan from above. They looked up to see dirt pouring down from above, followed by twigs and part of the roof.
The pseudoscorpion hopped to one side to avoid the danger, which put it in direct eyesight of Pythag.
Pythag froze, as did the others behind him, but the creature didn't move or pounce. It just looked ahead, they knew it was waiting movement to react to.
The springtail quickly realised she was the only one capable of a quick escape. So with a swift movement she hopped up high. The pseudoscorpion sensed the movement and vibration through the ground and darted for the position where she took off from.
What followed was an intense game of statues where Hasamila, the springtail, would hop, causing the pseudoscorpion to chase her, while Glorty and Pythag took advantage of the distraction by moving forward.
Eventually they found themselves in the escape tunnel, joined shortly after by the springtail.
Hasamila had managed to give the pseudoscorpion the slip with a well-timed jump that had forced the charging pseudoscorpion into a rotting part of the wooden wall, where its pincer became stuck.
The Destroyer of Worlds
With daylight ahead, the strange smell of dead leaves and ash got stronger, as it wafted down towards the tunnel towards them.
Then, without warning, there was another huge movement outside as the pressure was released from the roof of the log. Pieces of the tunnel ceiling started to crumble and partially collapse around them in response.
What followed was nought but shadow, the light at the end of the tunnel had been blocked by something huge.
Against the blackness, the strange ashy smell intensified, more so after a flare of light dropped from above past the exit hole. Then when the flare hit the ground, sparks of light flew against the shadowed backdrop.
Moments later a bright light flickered, filling the tunnel mouth and brightness erupted. It was at this moment they knew they'd have to find a different way out. With no obvious route forward they had to turn back. Whereas the air blowing towards them had been cool and refreshing, now it was hot and stifling.
There was a popping, crackling sound as the old timber was caught alight by the fabled phenomenon known only to the ants as the destroyer of worlds.
Licking flames now sought to catch them, racing up the tunnel behind them, forcing them back the way they'd came.
Then, as the hollow log continued to crumble around them, dread filled them as they knew that pseudoscorpion was likely waiting for them in the chamber ahead. Without taking the time to think they just ran.
The Rescue
A series of angry grunts from the side of the room only made them move faster, but there was no approach and the sound of it bearing down never came. In reckless curiosity Glorty looked round. He gasped when he saw the pseudoscorpion was trapped beneath a fallen wood spike.
The pseudoscorpion's eyes did not flash with anger, but there was a distinct look of panic. Glorty looked closer, he realised this was probably the first time, it had ever been afraid.
Knowing the feeling of fear all too well, Glorty stopped dead, his antennae trembling, "Please wait, for pity's sake," Glorty called out to the others. "We can't just leave it there to die!"
“Please wait, for pity’s sake,” Glorty called, antennae trembling. “We can’t just leave it there to die!”
Pythag looked back at him, his head cocked in confusion with eyes darting nervously between Glorty, Hasamila and the trapped Pseudoscorpion, "It just chased Hasamila around this place with no second thought about eating us!" Pythag said.
"My uncles told me when I left home that everything and all things are relative." Glorty said. "The pseudoscorpion has likely lived here alone its whole life, feeding on everything that passes through. That's its reality. If we show it another, we can give it a choice in how it wants to live going forward. I’ve only just left home, and I won’t start my journey with blood on my hands. Will you help me?”
"You're very strange Glorty, I like you." Hasamila said, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can barely breathe and we're moments away from burning to a crisp... and yet, you're arguing for a killer, that would just as soon eat you as look at you. Well, with this fire we could die either way, so I'm in. I'd rather die trying to help someone if I can."
Pythag's jaw nearly hit the floor, as he watched Glorty head towards the pseudoscorpion. Hasamila followed behind. Glorty coordinated efforts to free it.
Reluctantly, Pythag assisted, looping in circles before its greedy eyes, hypnotising the pseudoscorpion to calm it. Hasamila identified weak spots from up high, and pointing them out to help the others.
Glorty's task was structural. He directed the pseudoscorpion with a calm clarity, to move its limbs precisely to free itself.
A calmness, assisted by Pythag's motions, befell the great pincered beast as it realised it was receiving help.
The clever instructions given by Glorty led the pseudoscorpion to move long heavy supports into position to support the fallen log and allowed for the spike to be loosened that enabled the scorpion to be freed.
Once it was free, the pseudoscorpion took a moment to bow in thanks to its rescuers, but with the flames approaching they all knew they had to move on quickly.
The next hole Pythag found was too small for the pseudoscorpion to follow. "Go ahead. I'll catch up!" it said, flicking its claw to usher them on.
Strangely, due to the mild manners of the vicious killing machine they'd just freed. They felt reluctant to do so, leaving the pseudoscorpion behind as a wall of smoke chased behind them, getting ever closer.
Twisting through the splintered tunnels that were quickly filling with smoke, they came face to face once again with the beetle. They could tell that because of its bulk it was unable to escape from this chamber, so it had turned its fear to anger. With its last moments it would go out like a warrior, not cowering or sulking in fear.
Its deep-recessed features, and sparkling coal eyes were enveloped in shadow. With jaws opened wide it unleashed a chittinous roar that sent spittle, half-digested bug parts and hot air from its belly across the chamber.
The trio, who faced it, had nowhere to run. They could only watch as the hooked legs of the beetle scratched the ground to find purchase. It grunted and huffed and began its charge straight for Glorty, who stood tall and proud.
Hasamila prepared a timed hop to knock it off course, while Pythag sprayed the floor with regurgitated slurry with the hope it would make the beetle slide and trip over.
The charge was cut short as a blast from behind the trio erupted. The pseudoscorpion in desperation had thrown itself through the rotten wall, sending soil, dust and wood splinters flying.
Leading with its left pincer, the pseudoscorpion dove for the beetle, grasping its face, pulling itself in close before doing a mid-air twist and latching on with the other pincer to the beetle's shell.
When the pseudoscorpion was in position it bit deep with venomous fangs deeply into its exposed soft parts beneath, pumping it full of potent poison.
The beetle jerked and tossed, swinging the pseudoscorpion from left to right. Though, in its efforts it managed to catch the pseudoscorpion's right pincer in its mandibles, which sliced through the joint, sending a spray of blood against the wall and detaching the pincer.
Its efforts were futile, while the pseudoscorpion's severed right pincer bounced across the floor, grey foam erupted from the beetle's mouth as the poison took hold.
The beetle coughed and spluttered, as its knees gave way. Then in a last defiant effort the beetle flipped itself over trying to expel the poison and unclog its airway from foam. However, all it could do in this final position was to kick its legs helplessly skyward and accept its fate.
With the beetle defeated and the flames growing ever closer behind, the trio sped on through the tunnels ahead. They were now joined by the limping one-pincered pseudoscorpion.
New Horizons
Pythag was aware that they now needed a bigger tunnel for their new companion, so he chose the widest one. All the while being harried by the smoke as it continued to hustle them forward.
The new path led through a partially collapsed chamber, where the tunnel wall had broken away to reveal the outside world. Even though the shapes beyond were only smudges to Glorty’s eyes, he could tell the grass was shorter, and there was more brown flat land, unlike his old home.
The four of them staggered out together, with laboured breaths due to the smoke, blinking as the strange tang in the air caught in the back of their airways.
The log was now behind them, fully alight and slowly collapsing into ash and embers. For a quiet moment, none of them spoke.
“Is… this where the forest ends?” Pythag asked, his voice small.
Hasamila twitched her antennae slowly. “No. Just our part's end. The world keeps going. Forest goes through its changes.” The springtail’s antennae pointed away towards the largest shapes, trying to detect any danger.
Behind them, the one-clawed pseudoscorpion shifted awkwardly, testing its weight on its remaining pincer. Its voice grates against the silence, “The log is gone,” he said quietly and deliberately in a hollow voice that rattled in short breaths. It clicked its remaining pincer, watching it open and close, as if it was the first time. It was clearly a little dazed from the ordeal as it spoke hesitantly as if it had lost something, which it had. It was a hunter who had just lost his hunting ground. “My tunnels. My hiding places. All of them, gone.”
A gust of wind rustled the leaves above as the blazing half-burnt log continued to burn behind them, and blew sparks harmlessly into the open air. Glorty turned, feeling the heat of the dying fire on his back and the cool air ahead on his antennae. “Then you come with us,” he said simply. “We’re leaving what we knew behind as well.”
As he spoke he noticed other survivors were emerging from their own hideaways: spiders creeping from curled leaves, worms threading up through damp soil, as well as mites and tiny beetles that were picking their way across the cooled ashen floor. The fire had not destroyed the world. It had changed it.
Pythag stiffened at the idea of travelling with the pseudoscorpion, as instinct kicked in. But it was tugged harder by the memory of hearing the trapped pseudoscorpion’s fearful cry, which was likely a moment of unfamiliar raw panic for it, “You saved us,” Pythag muttered, not quite looking up. “And we saved you. That counts for something.”
The pseudoscorpion dipped its head, stretching its one remaining pincer out wide. In the closest thing it had to a bow. “I am Falgresh,” it said. “If I go with you, I hunt for you. That is how I pay my debt.”
“Just try not to hunt us,” Hasamila said with a wry click, trying to defuse the tension, while earning a nervous snort from Pythag and a confused pause from Falgresh.
Hasamila continued, “We’re… not food anymore. We’re… what would you call it, Glorty?”
“Family,” Glorty replied, tasting the word. “Even if we don’t look much alike.”
“Look,” Hasamila said quietly, extending its leg away from the direction of the log towards the world beyond. “We should see what's out there.”
Glorty squinted. Although the horizon to his eyes was still long smears of colour and brightness. He knew that somewhere beyond the blur, lay more logs, more tunnels, more excitement and more friendships that he never would have known had he stayed underground.
“It’s still all fuzzy,” he admitted. “The shapes. The edges. I can’t see all of it. Not clearly.”
Pythag glanced back at the smoking ruin of his old home, then forward again. “Maybe we don’t need to see all of it?” Pythag said. “Just enough to reach the next fork.”
“I feel more than I see,” Falgresh said, flexing his remaining pincer. “Until now, it was enough... With one claw I am weak. I need others, for now. You help me; I help you.”
Hasamila gave a short, decisive nod. “Then its settled," Hasamila said with a decisive nod. "This world's too big for just two eyes. Lucky for us,” they added with a small, proud twitch of their antennae, “together we’ve got lots.”
Glorty froze when a shadow passed over the ground above them, something winged overhead. It was clear that the danger out here would be different.
Something tightened inside that made him feel like something deeper within understood his situation before his blurred eyes did, though strangely the blur felt more like an invitation.
“Where do we go?” Pythag asked.
Glorty took a step forward, his feet digging into the rough soil beneath his feet.
“Forward,” he answered. “We go to find a new home. And if the world tries to burn that one too…” He paused, listening to the crackle behind and the hush ahead. “Then we move again. Together this time.”
As the four of them set off across the ash-dusted ground, leaving their homes and the ruined log behind, Glorty found himself smiling.
As they moved they stayed vigilant, watching for shadows, the changing taste of wind, and the detritus of lives being lived to guide their feet. In the wilds they would need they stayed close to each other to survive. They moved between shadows to avoid detection by larger creatures, together they ventured from point to point.
Each saw the world differently. Glorty with his antennae raised high, searched for signs that their travel direction was good. He led when the ground was rough, sensing the hidden paths beneath fallen needles and damp soil.
Pythag, the silverfish darted ahead when light faded, gliding through narrow cracks and hollows that only it could sense.
Hasamila, the springtail stayed close to the shadows, leaping over puddles that seemed like lakes to the others, while Falgresh, the pseudoscorpion lingered last, feeling the tremble of their steps through the earth.
Between them they often mistook the same thing for something else, a leaf’s edge for a rockface, a water drop for falling stone, and even the passing shadow of a bird was once mistaken for the coming of night. They shared their experiences to help each other. Communication was key for navigating the paths ahead.
And though none could see the world as a whole, together they filled in the blanks and managed to move further than any of them could have alone. Their overlapping worlds, stitched side by side through sound, scent, and sight, became a kind of shared map, a world greater than each of their own small ones.
The unlikely company was bound by the journey. Glorty wondered if this was related to what his uncles had said, "All size and all things are relative". Their survival against both the fire and the beetle made them appreciate being alive. Glorty continued to watch the sky as his surroundings blurred and shifted, rewriting his perceived world and perspective.
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