A Rustle in the Grass by Robin Hawdon

Author:Robin Hawdon [Hawdon, Robin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thistle Publishing
Published: 2014-12-07T05:00:00+00:00

16

That first night out in the clearing had been a cold one. The worker-ants had huddled together in groups for warmth but they had had a long, uncomfortable time of it. The early hours of dawn had been the worst, before the temperature began to rise and when the brightening light left them feeling exposed and helpless to the eyes of passing predators.

Old Five Legs stretched his stiff painful joints in the reluctant knowledge that they could not survive many more such nights in the open. However, he reflected, at least they had not had to endure the fatal consequences of a night frost. He peered towards the darkened shape of the mound. Everything seemed quiet there. He could just make out the shadowy figures of the guards posted at every tunnel mouth. They were going to make very sure that none of the workers got back to the comfort of their quarters, he thought.

He looked around him at the gently stirring, muttering groups of ants nearby. It was hard to tell what the prevailing mood might be after this first testing period. Had the defiance worn thin through the cold and the discomfort? Or had the sense of determination survived? What we need, he thought, is a good feed: that would bolster morale. He called to the other senior worker-ants nearby. They held a brief, low-voiced discussion and then the others dispersed around the clearing to organize food-scavenging parties.

Just as Never-Rest was leaving Five Legs asked him, 'Where is Still One? Have you seen him this morning?'

Never-Rest waved a feeler towards the birch sapling some way across the clearing, near the edge of the forest. 'He's with his beloved aphid-bugs. They're not going to suffer because of the revolt.' And he went off on his mission.

Five Legs set off at his own pace for the birch sapling. On the way he stopped here and there to converse with some of the groups of worker-ants, enquiring after their well-being, sounding out their resolution. He was pleased to find that the rigours of the night had, if anything, strengthened the general determination. There was a grim resentment against their treatment, a deep-rooted anger that their feelings should be rejected in so autocratic a manner; and nowhere was fear in evidence, nor was it ever suggested that their cause was hopeless, though Five Legs knew that deep down many must secretly be feeling both.

He reached the sapling and gazed up into the delicate green mist of budding spring foliage. Sure enough the slim figure was there, pottering about on one of the lower branches. Five Legs called up and the other peered down over the edge of his branch.

'Greetings, Five Legs,' he called back. 'How are you after that long night?'

'Stiff, cold and bad-tempered,' replied the old ant. 'Can I have a word with you?'

'If you can manage to climb, why don't you come up here?' replied Still One. 'I can give you something which may make you feel better.'

Five Legs did not hesitate long.

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