A Rustle in the Grass Read online

  The three ants waited until the enemy group was well out of range. Then Dreamer turned to Snake's Tongue, and said, 'I'm sorry, leader. They nearly caught me out.'

  'You sensed them before they sensed us, that's the main thing,' said Snake's Tongue.

  'Glad we didn't have to introduce ourselves,' muttered Joker.

  Dreamer quietly resolved that never again would he allow his concentration to lapse in such a way.

  Snake's Tongue explored the night air with his feelers. 'I think we'd better rest here, and get some energy back before we run into any more trouble,' he said.

  So once more they rested gratefully, drank some moisture from the drops trapped between the rye-grass stems and ate sparingly of the food in their crops. All three had by now almost exhausted their store of food and Dreamer wondered how they were going to find more in these starved regions, particularly as it would presumably become more and more scarce the nearer they approached the enemy base. If necessary they could probably find some seeds or edible plant life, but such nourishment was hardly suitable for ants on the march – and possibly on the run – who required a large supply of energy.

  The shadows around them were softening and the thin moon seen through the branches high over their heads was paling, as the Lord of the Stars once more withdrew his protective cloak of darkness from the world and allowed the dawn to creep hesitantly in. The air was very cold now and its damp chill crept into their limbs as they rested. Snake's Tongue shivered and stretched his lengthy frame.

  'We must go,' he said. 'Keep alert for any signs of life. We must find some food before long, if only to hide for the return journey. Dreamer, see if the way is clear.'

  As it happened, it was a form of life which discovered them, and a very unpleasant form. Just as they had vacated the shelter of their grass clump and Dreamer was hesitating at the edge of the trail with the other two behind him, a heavy thud and a groan from Joker make him whirl round.

  The sight that met his eyes was terrifying. Joker was lying prone on the ground and over him towered the huge figure of a large tree-spider, its immense jaws poised to strike. The only reason it had not done so immediately was because it was partially distracted by Snake's Tongue, who was just out of reach of its long, hair-covered limbs and whose remarkable reflexes had spun him round, sting at the ready, at the first moment of impact.

  The monster was fully three times the size of any of the ants and had evidently dropped out of the foliage above their heads from a considerable height, which was why they had not been aware of its presence. Tree-spiders do not normally prey on ants, finding more appetizing food high amongst the branches of their normal habitat, but such was the dearth of suitable victims in these parts, even apparently at that height, that this one was evidently no longer choosy about what it ate. It must have witnessed their entry into the protective clump of grass and lain in wait above until they came out again.

  Never in his life had Dreamer confronted such a formidable opponent. He had heard all the stories of course, of momentous encounters with similar adversaries – such tales were the very stuff of ant-lore – and he was aware that his world was also the domain of infinitely more powerful and voracious species than his own; but he had always seen them at a distance, high over his head or speeding aggressively across the horizon, never directly encountered them at such proximity. He remained frozen to the spot in a state of shocked paralysis, until a fierce command from Snake's Tongue shook him into action.

  'Distract it, Dreamer!' shouted the big soldier, who then whirled away to one side.

  Dreamer had no notion of what his leader planned to do, but instinctively he obeyed and, more as a reflex movement than with any calculated plan of action, he lunged forward towards the gigantic shape, his sting automatically curled forward beneath his body. The spider's great head had swung round following Snake's Tongue but now, as it sensed Dreamer's approach, it swung back again, a strange rumbling hiss coming from somewhere within the cavernous depths of its body. The enormous mandibles, which were easily capable of crushing an ant's body at a single embrace, gaped towards him. Dreamer realized that everything depended on keeping out of their range. He danced forwards, presenting his puny sting, and then leapt back again, shouting insults in a wild display of aggression. He was dimly aware of Joker, half stunned, attempting to crawl out between the beast's legs, and then suddenly of the long, tensile figure of Snake's Tongue materializing again on one side with incredible speed, leaping for one of the hindmost legs and clinging to the hairy surface with feet and jaws together.

  As Dreamer continued his crazed dance of distraction in front of the monster's head, Snake's Tongue drove his sting upwards and forwards towards the bottom joint of its leg, just above the claw-like foot. The sting struck the hard carapace of the leg just above the joint and was deflected off to one side, almost causing him to lose his balance. He hung on grimly and struck again, once more failing to find the vulnerable spot. The spider kicked its leg ponderously, trying to shake him off, but his weight was sufficient to inhibit this movement so it next swung its huge head round towards him. He was on its hindmost leg, however, and the creature could not reach that far without bringing its leg forward and dangerously unbalancing itself. As it aimed its jaws futilely in Snake's Tongue's direction, Dreamer once again rushed in, threatening its front, and it was forced to swing back again.

  Snake's Tongue lunged again and again with the base of his abdomen at the vulnerable leg-joint, until at last he felt the satisfying thrust as his sting penetrated the narrow gap and entered soft flesh. With all his power he injected a long jet of poison and then leapt clear.

  The spider gave a great hiss as it felt the searing pain in its leg and it whirled towards Snake's Tongue, those gigantic pincer jaws, containing their own lethal brand of poison, parted ready to strike. Snake's Tongue reared on his hind legs just out of range, taunting the creature. He knew his poison required a short time before its paralysing powers took effect, so the spider was still mobile and even more dangerous now it was enraged.

  On the far side Dreamer was now relieved of the beast's immediate attention. He could see Joker still dazedly attempting to struggle out between the spider's trampling feet. That first instinctively inspired counter-attack had taught him an enlightening lesson: that no dilemma seems quite so hopeless if faced with a positive reaction. Now he put that lesson into effect in a more calculated and cool-headed way, and, following Snake's Tongue's example, he attacked the nearest leg, aiming for the lowest joint. He jumped and clung to the thick hairs on the great limb, aware of the sheer solidity of the member and of the powerful odour excreted from its surface. Again and again he thrust, seeking that vital cleft between the sections. After several abortive attempts his sting at last penetrated and he injected his poison with as much force as he could muster. Then he leapt clear. He was not, however, quite so fast as Snake's Tongue in doing this, and in his inexperience he had chosen to attack only the second leg of the four on his side, which left him within closer range of those great jaws. The sharp pain in the spider's leg brought it lunging in his direction once more and as he turned to flee its mandibles clamped around his body.

  What saved him was the haste with which the spider had struck. Had it had time to aim properly, it would undoubtedly have gone for the vulnerable joint between head and thorax or between thorax and abdomen. As it happened, its wild strike made contact with the retreating rear of Dreamer's abdomen, some way above the sting where the carapace was at its thickest. The jaws gripped firmly around his body but failed to pierce the hard protective covering immediately, so that it could not inject its deadly poison.

  It was now Joker's turn to enter the action. Initially stunned by the first impact of the spider's heavy body as it dropped from above, his head was now clearing in the few vital seconds' reprieve that his companions' attack had won for him. He was still half under the beast, scrabbling instinctively to get away between its legs but now, as his senses returned, h
e dimly realized that with the creature's jaws diverted to Dreamer and with Snake's Tongue again rushing in to attack its legs on the other side, he was in an advantageous position to do some damage himself. He was actually lying beneath the spider's most vulnerable part, the undersurface of the soft, slender section which joined the thorax to the abdomen and allowed its body flexibility. In the sideways swing of its head as it attacked Dreamer the spider had exposed this part and the crouching movement of its body during the same lunge had brought its underbelly lower, within range of Joker's sting. He now rolled over on to his back and, with all the strength left in his bruised body, struck upwards at the vital spot. His sting pierced the skin and he injected as much poison as was possible from such an unnatural position. The spider gave an instant lurch, knowing it has been wounded in a critical place. Releasing its hold on Dreamer, it swung round to deal with this new assault. The poison from the first two attacks was now having its effect and the beast's legs were not behaving quite as they should have done. It staggered, trying to maintain its balance, and Snake's Tongue and Dreamer, sensing victory, both renewed their attacks simultaneously. Dreamer, his lesson learnt, this time followed Snake's Tongue's example and went for the rear leg out of reach of the jaws. Neither had a strong dose of poison left after their initial attacks and Dreamer was in considerable pain from the monster's bite around his abdomen, but both were able to inflict further minor wounds on its leg-joints before it kicked them off and staggered, hissing, out of range.

  The three ants crouched exhausted, watching the huge beast as it lumbered dazedly around the undergrowth. Joker's lunge had caught it in a vital place and as the poison slowly infiltrated its system, bringing with it a numbing paralysis, the spider sensed that it would soon be at the mercy of its opponents, and its eyes took on a forlorn, almost appealing expression.

  The ants waited, content merely to observe and regain their strength, as their attacker blundered this way and that, crashing against grass stems and twigs, until it subsided into a heaving, defeated mass amongst the undergrowth. They felt no malice now that the contest was over and the victors determined. This was Nature's way; the stark, but essential processes were merely being fulfilled.

  When the sounds of the spider's movement in the undergrowth had ceased Snake's Tongue did not immediately approach it: his first thought was that the noise of their struggle might have attracted the attention of some of the red ants. His antennae erect, he listened for a long moment to the sounds of the forest, but all seemed as it should be. Then he looked towards the other two. They were both bruised and exhausted, but otherwise seemed unharmed. He turned his attention back towards the spider. Moving slowly, with the greatest caution, he approached it. The beast was by no means dead. It was breathing steadily and its eyes, though glazed and not focusing properly, could still dimly follow his movements. It knew, however, that its end was near. Such was its size, that it was quite possible it would have survived its injuries had it been granted time to recuperate. But Snake's Tongue had no intention of allowing this, firstly because he did not wish to leave so fearful a menace at liberty near the route by which they would have to return, and secondly because it now offered the supply of food which they so desperately needed. He signalled with his antennae to the other two to come forward and then approached the spider's head to make sure the creature was indeed incapacitated. When he saw that it was only able to make the slightest of movements in reaction to his advance, he moved round to its flank. The others knew without being told what to do and all three climbed between the long, outstretched legs, and, without a word, attacked the slender, vulnerable join between thorax and abdomen with their mandibles.

  The grisly deed was soon accomplished. So numbed was the spider by now that it probably felt little before it succumbed. There were a few spasmodic, involuntary twitches as the ants bit through its vital arteries, but then stillness, and within a few moments its huge form lay in two sections, completely severed.

  Snake's Tongue studied his two companions. Joker lay sprawled on the ground, too dazed and exhausted even to make the expected quip about their deliverance. Dreamer too rested, nursing his aching sides where the spider's jaws had scarred the carapace. Snake's Tongue himself was relatively unmarked but even he, seasoned soldier that he was, had been shaken by the episode. He went across to Joker and touched him exploratively with his feelers.

  'All right, Joker?' he asked quietly.

  The other nodded weakly, then summoned his energies and lifted his head. 'Nothing to it. When are we going to do some real fighting?'

  Snake's Tongue nodded, relieved, and turned to Dreamer. 'Well done, Dreamer,' he said. 'You fought well.'

  Dreamer felt no elation at his leader's praise. He was too worn out for that and he realized what a lucky escape they had had. But he also realized, vaguely and without any particular sense of satisfaction, that they had in fact acquitted themselves respectably; that each had responded without hesitation in the crisis and played his part with honour. It boded well for the future of their mission and further strengthened the bond of loyalty between them.

  'We will rest and then feed,' decided Snake's Tongue. 'Then we must move on. The sun will soon be up.'

  They fed hungrily as soon as their strength had revived. Spider flesh is not to ants' best liking but they were in no position to be fastidious and they knew they were unlikely to have such an opportunity again. They needed the nourishment, not only to replenish their energies but also the supply of poison for their stings, which had been virtually exhausted in the fight. When they had eaten their fill and tucked away selected morsels in their crops for future consumption, Snake's Tongue left the corpse and scouted around the immediate vicinity. He soon found what he was looking for: a shallow, cavelike depression beneath a large stone lying nearby. He signalled to the other two and together they dragged the remains of the spider into the aperture and then covered them over with dead leaves and twigs, finally scattering the whole with humus scratched up from the ground to disguise, for a while at least, the scent of death.

  That done, the three ants returned once more to the path of the red ants, Snake's Tongue leading this time. As he hesitated on the edge of the trail, scanning the air for signs of danger, Joker turned to Dreamer at his side.

  'Thanks, young one,' he said in a low voice. 'You're a better fighter than you look. I didn't relish being a spider's dinner just yet.'

  Dreamer's stride was a little more jaunty, despite the ache in his sides, as the three set off again through the trees and the brightening glow of the rising dawn.

  10

  Bug-Rump was drunk. It was hardly his fault. He had been left to clean out the store chamber where the royal store of winter honey-dew was kept. After Snake's Tongue's expedition party had been given their supply, the small remainder of the precious stuff had been carried in thick congealed lumps down to the Royal Quarters themselves. The two soldiers of the Royal Guard who were constantly on sentry duty over the chamber now departed and Bug-Rump was left with the last dirty job – as Bug-Rump usually was.

  His task was to clean the final traces of the sweet sticky substance from the walls and floor of the little chamber, leaving the place ready for the new deposits of spring honey-dew. The job involved scraping the earthy surfaces with mandibles and claws and carrying the resultant unsavoury mixture of earth and coagulated honey-dew by mouth to the outside of the mound, where it was deposited amongst the grass stems on one of the slopes. Inevitably a certain amount of honey-dew would melt away from the soil whilst in contact with the warm juices of an ant's mouth, and it was a strong-willed worker-ant indeed who could refrain from swallowing a little of the delectable stuff, forbidden though it was. Bug-Rump was strong neither in will nor in body. He was one of the first-born of last year's larvae brood – always the most stunted in growth – and he had survived through to this year more by luck than by judgement, having by chance discovered a tiny crevice in one of the warm inner hibernation chambers into w
hich he could just squeeze and which was too small for any larger worker to covet. Here he had spent the winter in relative comfort, only to emerge after the Long Sleep to find himself once more one of the drudges of the community by reason of his diminutive stature.

  Bug-Rump's resistance to honey-dew was negligible, as his humble status rarely allowed him to come into contact with it. In this instance he had succumbed to temptation rather more often than was wise on his several trips backwards and forwards between the chamber and the outside, and by the time his task was almost completed he found himself in a distinctly intoxicated state, staggering about the little chamber with a happy smile on his face, a dazed look in his eyes and a sequence of bizarre hallucinations in his brain.

  Then suddenly one of these dreamlike images materialized into a frightening reality. A huge black shape loomed out of the darkness, a heavy foot descended on his back and a low voice rumbled close to his head: 'What do you think you're up to, my friend?'

  Bug-Rump desperately tried to stand still and focus his wayward senses on the speaker. He dimly recognized the voice and scent as belonging to Dew-Lover and something in the hazy recesses of his brain told him that he was in trouble, but he wasn't quite sure why, nor did it seem to matter very much. He mumbled semi-incoherently, 'Gorra clean out honey-dew,' while staggering under the weight of Dew-Lover's foot.

  The latter's voice sank to a vicious, menacing growl: 'Clean out the honey-dew, eh!'

  'Yeshir – clean iddup.'

  The pressure on his back increased so that poor Bug-Rump's legs were sagging precariously under him.

  'Where are the Royal Guards who should be on duty here?' demanded the voice.