I saw him as he shambled toward the entrance. The wind
ruffled his hair, but he did not seem to notice. Clods of dirt fell with each
step. An air of dazed dejection hovered about him.
I stepped back from my vantage point as a knock
echoed throughout our home. Everyone stopped what they were doing and, in unison,
turned toward our makeshift door. I must admit that it was not a pretty
fixture, but it slowed those down who meant us harm.
A visitor who knocked was rare here. I took a moment to
gather myself before striding to the door to greet this sad and disheveled
visitor.
“Who goes there,” I demanded.
“A brother from another hill,” came the reply.
I muscled the door open and took a closer look at the
stranger. It was then that I noticed he was
missing an eye, and when he moved
back to allow for the swing of the door, I could see that one leg bent in an
odd manner. Whatever he had been through, it was not good. I scanned the
horizon, hoping he had not been followed.
I motioned him in, and he entered as quickly as his awkward
gate allowed. I closed the door.
He looked ready to collapse, so I offered him an arm and
ushered him to a chair.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “You are most kind.”
I handed him a drink. He sipped and shuddered,
unsuccessfully attempting to stanch the tears that
flowed from his eyes. They
created trails of clean skin, vertical stripes in the grime on his face.
“I’m looking for a place,” he told me. “They… blew mine up.”
My eyes widened.
“Who blew it up?”
“Some of the two-legged, two-handed,” he replied.
“Adolescents, I think.”
He swallowed hard, resolve gleaming in his eyes. He would
tell their story and remember.
“We were finishing work for the day. Those who had
assignments outside were on their way back.
Our infants were in the nursery.
Before we could gather for dinner, the two-legged, two-handed shoved something
through our door. It sparked with fire before exploding. My brothers and
sisters were blown up. Some disintegrated on the spot. Some were thrown from
our home and consumed by predators.
“I am the only survivor.” Here, he paused, straightened his
antennae, and looked me in the eye. “And now I am here, with you, asking for a
place and help to avenge my colony.”
I paused for only a moment.
“This is now your place, and our colony is your colony. We
march at dawn.”
