A long writhing mass, our armies march forward.

Up the tree of green, flaking bark shielding our ascent.

Segmented bodies of three and legs of six, our steps are invisible.

Canopy shifting dapples of light, shadows of the forest casting ominous shapes.

The hunt commences.

–

The hordes of black and red fan out – divide and conquer.

Tiny feet scuttling along the branch extremities – verdant and veined.

Scouts leave trails for the dormant masses to follow – maps of pheromones.

We cross the valleys and canyons of the trunk – forge ahead undaunted.

The hunt continues.

–

What rests within this mottled cocoon?

What lays atop the curved leaves?

What hides between these interlocked twigs?

What lurks beyond the canopy’s cover?

The hunt deepens.

–

Antennae raise to the skies.

Messages carry down the lines.

Senses sharpen to locate the source.

Bodies drop low in anticipation.

The hunt peaks.

–

Our scattered forces converge upon the central trunk.

Shifting black spots gathering into an orderly queue.

Upwards we venture, our sights set upon a delectable prize.

Weaving through hills and caverns of withering muted bark.

–

Our senses lock on the target, the shape and nature of it clear in our minds.

We scale the high canopy, up and down and across the snaking branches.

Coverings of leaves and twigs making way for a small clearing.

A ravaged home, its occupants once a great threat to us, now a prime meal.

–

Twists of discarded forest.

Tangles of abandoned down.

Twines of lost trinkets.

A nest of feathered tyrants laid to waste by their own prey.

Now weakened and ripe for our taking.

A lucky find, sure to please the queen.

–

We spill into the bowl of woven twigs, mandibles eager.

The prize within our grasp, we swarm and claim as our own.

Shifting forms of darkness, our legs scurry along the surface of the creature.

Each soldier collects their piece, a morsel to contribute to the collective.

–

Fragments of carrion held between our jaws, we return to the highway.

The pheromone map winds down the tree, signals from our brethren leading us home.

Trails of black, shifting and shuffling in both directions.

Set against the blazing sky, the immolated shadows of the fading sun.

–

Littered leaves and discarded seeds.

Voracious bugs amidst mossy rugs.

Vast sands atop invertebrate lands.

The entrance to home emerges, toward it the army surges.

–

We carry the spoils of the hunt through our tunnels.

Packed dirt caverns snake down, deep into the earth.

Passing drop off points, our sisters fulfil their purpose.

Delivering gems of sustenance to our hard-working benefactors.

–

The hunt concludes.

A prosperous outcome.

Yet never satisfied.

We will hunt again.

Of that we are sure.

To fight and survive.

We persist for all our sakes.

And for that of our matriarch.

For Queen and Colony.