Aniso and Symon soared over the expansive grass field. They were high enough that Symon could recognize the area for what it was; an ordinary, if not neglected and overgrown backyard. He'd have a guess that the area hadn't been cared for in some time with unmowed grass stretching unburdened into the sky. In places the grass was knee high (if he were full sized), while the more resilient and stubborn weeds had grown to almost chest height. What was once a flower garden of native plants that nestled politely along a winding stone path, now was overgrown, leaves wildly growing out in every direction into a mass of foliage. Much of the path was engulfed by grass and dandelions rebelliously invading the cracks between the concrete slabs. 

Sun-bleached lawn decorations littered the yard. Lawn chairs lay flipped over on the ground, small statues fallen over with their face in the mud from windstorms long passed, with no one to come pick them back up. Trinkets and tchotchkes designed to breathe life and personality into the garden now caked in dirt and left to rot alone on the ground. 

As they flew, something caught Aniso’s attention, movement in the corner of his eye. He quickly ducked down towards the nearest hiding spot; a large bird bath in the center of the yard.

Nature had also reclaimed the grand centerpiece. Ivy climbed obstacle free up the carved stonework of its base, reaching greedily for the water at the top. The water was stained a deep green color by algae, the surface covered in a thick film of debris and scum from the stagnation. Mosquito larvae swam freely in the disgusting water. The pungent smell wafted into Symon's nose, and he made a face. 

“What are we doing?” Symon said aloud before being shushed by Aniso.

“Shhhhh… look out there, into the trees ahead.” He whispered and pointed straight into the canopy of trees in front of them. 

It took a while for Symon to make out the figures, but he did eventually spot the movement in the distance. At first, he thought they were normal wasps, like many he'd seen invading the back porch of his home, but on closer inspection it became more clear that they were also miinu, though ones that flew with their limbs dangled beneath them like their insect counterparts, and their bodies were adorned with heavy plated armor painted gold and black. They hid their humanoid faces behind masks that bore large alien eyes and gnashing mandibles, as if designed to disguise themselves as something ordinary, mundane. 

“Who are they?” Symon finally whispered back.

“Yellow Jacket soldiers. They have this big territory conflict with the  Carpenter Ants and by extension, the rest of the Grotto. They won't be happy if they spot us.”

“Are they dangerous?” 

“Very. Their soldiers eat, sleep and breathe combat. They won't hesitate to kill us.”

The two watched in silence as the two wasps scouted the area and eventually flew out of sight.

“There, they won't fly past the borders of the grotto,” he gestured to the dirt trail that marked the edge of the property line. “If they know what's good for them at least.”

“So what Fours said about Yellow Jacket occupation in this area… It’s true?”

“I hope not.” Aniso took to the skies again. “We need to get there and find out.”

“With pleasure. Anything to get away from this dank water.” He waved the smell away from his nose  “It's a shame really, to see such a nice item being left to fester in the elements.

“Hey, don't judge it too harshly. I was born there.” Aniso replied. 

“My you are full of surprises today.” Symon remarked. “In that nasty water? Who would ever raise a child there?”

“No one did. I'm a feral.”

“You've mentioned that term before, what do you mean by it?”

“Not every miinu is born from another miinu.” Aniso explained. “Some are born when spirit magic blesses a normal insect egg. My mother was just plain damselfly, not a miinu. She was dead before she even got a chance to see me hatch.”

“How dreadful, being left all on your own like that.”

“It wasn't too bad, the water hadn't gotten so dirty yet, and I was found eventually, by the ants. They brought me to the lake where my dad adopted me.”

“Fascinating.” Symon murmured.

The house was growing close. The A frame was small in relation to a human, It was a rather cozy place in the woods that he wouldn't at all doubt that an older woman had spent the last of her days in. Symon scanned the outside for an easy path in. He immediately spotted a difference between the two windows that sat either side of the main door. The one on the right, next to the metal rocking chair on the porch was open slightly ajar. It was just about an inch wide gap, much too small for most animals to squeeze through, but just enough for the two of them.

Symon directed Aniso to the window and the two landed on the window sill just outside of the gap. Even at his size, Symon still had to crouch down to squirm under the window. He was hit with the smell of dust and stale air as soon as he passed the threshold. The house was dark outside of the sunlight illuminating the windows. It was enough light to tell they had entered the main room of the cabin. Symon hopped down onto the dusty surface of the table below him, with Aniso following behind. He was pleasantly surprised to see no water damage from the open window.

Scanning the room his mind immediately came back to estate sales. The cabin was like many homes of the elderly he had bought goods from. It was a quaint cabin with what looked to be only a few rooms, and an open kitchen far on the left side of the house. The space was littered with antique furniture and trinkets that he could pinpoint as being from the early Victorian era, such as the vintage mid century grandfather clock, whose pendulum had long stopped moving. Or a painting of a sailor waving off an island illuminated only by a single distant lighthouse, housed in an ornate gilded frame and hung proudly on the wall. An Edwardian Era porcelain tea set sat collecting dust and cobwebs. His mind immediately buzzed thinking about how valuable these items were, only for them to collect dust and never again see the light of day outside this little cabin. 

The living room had a small stonework fireplace, with pictures on the mantle. It was hard to get a really good look from where he stood, but he could make out a photo of a young woman, her husband, and her infant child. Then one of the same woman, now older with a young man that must have been her son now as an adult. In front of a fireplace sat just a single, lonely Queen Anne chair adorned with floral patterns. It was worn and well used. Its cushions sagged into the shape of a human, permanently altered by its occupant’s daily visits.  The morbid thought of the woman spending the last of her days alone in this house crossed Symon’s mind briefly, before he pushed it away and focused on the task at hand.

“Well thankfully it's not a large area.” Symon spoke. “We should be able to do a fly over and find any signs of life.”

“No need, we can just track their pheromone trail.” Aniso said. 

“Whatever do you mean?”

“The ants leave behind a trail for their team to follow.” He crouched down. “Once we pick up the scent, it's as simple as following it.”

Symon crouched as well, sniffing the air. “I don't smell anything.” 

Aniso laughed, “That's because you're smelling your nose. You gotta smell with these.”

Aniso lowered Symon's head forehead first towards the floor so that his antennae would brush against the air close to the surface. That's when he noticed the almost imperceivable difference in sensation tingling against them. It was a strange feeling, like a mix of smell and touch, but being signaled directly to his brain in rapid impulses that felt alien to him. He could pick up on the subtle chemical differences that otherwise would not be noticeable by any of his other senses. 

The feeling was very uncomfortable to process and he quickly pulled his head away. “Ah, perhaps you should stick to that, I may need practice before I can grasp the concept.” 

Aniso looked at him in confusion for a moment before shrugging it off. He looked down and Symon watched the boy's small, fluffy antennae wiggled like worms emerging from his snow-white hair. His head turned as if he was following an invisible string across the room.

“It looks like the trail heads off from this table towards the fireplace.”

Aniso grabbed Symon and flew down to the floor. “We'll have to stay low if we want to keep track of it.”

The floor was filthy covered in dirt, and dust bunnies the size of the both of them. It was amazing what details you could see from down here. The scuffs of age on the wood, and the shoes that made them. Coins, buttons, sewing needles, medication and other small items that became lost under furniture too difficult to move and sweep under.

They followed their trail on foot, heading towards the fireplace. Walking was slow going in the massive cabin, but it was the best way of keeping track of the trail, as between the two of them, their antennae were fairly small and unrefined. As they approached the fireplace, Symon peered into the dark cavern to try to make out the detail of some brown lumps he could see coming into view. His vision had been quite blurry ever since he'd been without his glasses, so the lumps could easily be mistaken for mouse droppings or something equally unpleasant; but as they approached the entrance, Aniso froze and held his hand out to stop Symon.

“What, what is it?” Symon asked, noticing the look of abject horror on Aniso’s face. He clearly was seeing something Symon was not, so he squinted his eyes at the lumps to gain any clearer details. He recoiled when finally saw the silhouettes of the little ant soldiers. Dozens of them lie dead inside the fireplace, their mustard yellow organs plucked out and strewn across their bodies like popped grapes. They were disemboweled and many only had half of their bodies remaining. It was absolute carnage, and Symon felt sick to his stomach.