The Colony's Judgement

Ant 9389 watched as his coworkers, Ant 7483 and Ant 2784 went to work dragging the carcass of a dead beetle back to home, back to the colony. He considered lending a hand, but a realization stopped him. He didn't want to.

"Ant 9389, why aren't you helping us?" asked Ant 2784.
"I don't want to."

The other two ants dropped their load and exchanged looks before shaking their antennas with amusement. "So? You're a part of our society. Conform and obey, that's our colony's motto. What are you waiting for? Conform and obey. Help us out."

Ant 9389 moved to help, his pincers open to seize a dangling grasshopper leg, but he stopped. What was he doing? This wasn't the life he wanted to lead. "No. I'm sorry, but I can no longer support this colony. Look at what we call ourselves. We're nothing but numbers, slaving away at the whims of our Queen. I believe we are worth more than this. Just look at our ability to talk, to express emotion! That alone is reason to carve our own way through life, not blindly follow the norm or the commands of a leader who doesn't give a damn about us."

The other two ants tensed up. "You speak madness," said Ant 7483.

"Perhaps. But I'd rather be mad and unique than sane and oppressed." Ant 9389 left the grasshopper behind, venturing further into the forest, past the stream marking the border of his Colony's kingdom, journeying to lands unknown. 

Proudly, Ant 9389 declared his new name to the sky. "World, you may call me Innovator."

            One day, as Innovator gazed contently from the home he had crafted from brown oak leaves, white veins coursing across their surfaces, he noticed something curious on the horizon. A lone ant, marching forward with its head turned down and its back slumped.

            “State your business,” said Innovator.

            “Don’t you recognize me? It’s me, Ant 7483. I came to warn you. The Queen is furious. I tried to convince her not too seek vengeance for leaving, but she banished me. I know that if I hope to survive, I’ll need your help. So, will you give it?”

            Innovator tilted his head. “What is your name?”

            “What? I already told you.”

            “Not your number. Your name. What is it?”

            “I, I don’t know.”

            “Look inside yourself. It’s in there.”

            A spark entered Ant 7483’s eyes. “Resistance. I am Resistance. The Queen is sending an army to eradicate you, and now, me. I don’t see how we can survive, but I am willing to die by your side, if you’ll have me.”

            “Together then, we shall both resist the Queen, till death take us.”

The Huntress's New Prey

Stalker the bobcat glanced at his partner, considering her. What an inferior animal. Her limbs were lithe, not muscular like his. She screamed weakness, practically begged to be used and then discarded. "Huntress, darling. Come here. I have something I want to say."

His partner looked up at him from where she lay in the corner of the cave they resided in. Huntress stood and stretched her limbs, letting loose a yawn. "Yes?"
           "No, come here, as I requested."

Huntress curled her lips back, revealing sharp fangs, but did as she was told, striding towards Stalker where she stood silently waiting.

"Darling, I am famished. Be a good wife, heh, a good female, and kill something for us to eat," said Stalker. His eyes drooped as he spoke with exhaustion.

"I am not your servant. If you're hungry, go and kill something yourself."

"But I have you, my darling huntress. It's your job to kill the food. I protect the den and you hunt." Really, was that so difficult to understand? She must be inferior in both body and mind. How weak.

"Fine." Huntress wandered out of the cave and into the sunlight, growling with displeasure as she walked.

Perfect. Soon, Huntress would return with fresh meat. It was the ideal situation. She did all the work, and he gained the benefits.

Stalker waited, growing more impatient by the hour. Surely, she would return soon. Huntress was efficient, a spectacular predator, despite her weak body and mind. It was strange for her to take so long.

The sunlight streaming in through the cave's entrance gave way to darkness as night fell upon the land.

Exasperated, Stalker stood up from his spot in the cave and wandered into the night. Suddenly, a body collided against his, knocking the breath from his lungs. His eyes widened in horror as sharp claws tore into his chest and his partner's fangs ripped open his neck.
           As Stalker lay dying in a pool of his own blood, Huntress stood beside him. With a laugh, she said, "Tonight, my dear, I hunt for the buzzards."

The Bear's Fight

Get the monsters, rip out their hearts. Charge through the forest. Anger. Let your anger guide your unstoppable rampage, as you charge forth into the ranks of the invaders. Look at them. Watch as they swing their tools of metal. Ignore the attacks. Ignore the blood. Press on. Close your jaw around the creature’s neck. Squeeze tightly and end its existence.

            You are a bear. Fight like one. Let none stand in your way. Ignore the sting of the creatures' fire-scream-sticks, roaring like thunder with each blast of lightning fired. It can kill you, but not yet. Rip through the creature’s chest with savage abandon. Let its entrails run red, spill out. Crush its head with your mighty foot.

            More of the creatures have arrived. Roar and charge them. You are a bear. They are small. Weak. Trample them under foot.

            Ignore the pain in your gut. It’s only a wound. It will heal. You can’t see. They’ve blinded you with a chemical. Something unnatural. Flail your claws; stand on your hind legs. Look large. Look threatening. Scare them away.

            It’s not working. Their fire-scream-sticks are erupting, blasting away your flesh. Stand back up. Don’t remain on the ground. Ignore it. Ignore your blood seeping away, staining the soil red. Try to move. Lift a paw. Do something.
            But it’s too late. The creatures have won. Die calmly. Embrace the coldness of death. Die with dignity.

Threnody for Earth's Wishes

Moon gazed at Earth, remorse swelling in her heart of stone. It had been far too long since she had last heard his voice. But it was his choice to remain silent, to lose his energy, all for the sake of his children.

Billions of years ago, Earth had been a cold place, just like her. But he had always wanted more, dreamed of greater aspirations. And so, he devised a plan to focus his life energy on something Moon did not quite understand at the time. Creation.

At first, it had been harmless experimentation. Earth grew oceans on his surface, and let the magma at his core pour out in geysers. But he remained unsatisfied.

Moon tried to please him, tried to reassure him that all was fine the way it was, but Earth insisted on the glory of his vision. Life, he explained, could be crafted with his energy.

And so, the very first cell was given substance, clinging near the heat geysers residing on the ocean floors. Moon applauded his efforts, for surely, it was a wondrous deed. And for a long time, Earth was happy.

But he grew restless with the passing time. He told Moon of his vision, a land where complex organisms roamed his surface, creating a web of life. Nothing, he believed, would compare with the satisfaction of granting billions life.

Moon pleaded with Earth to see reason. His life force was so strong. Why sacrifice it for countless lesser lives? But he remained steadfast in his ambition, refused to be swayed by her words.

More complex creatures began to roam Earth's surface, great reptilian beasts, and some even possessed feathers. Moon reluctantly conceited that they were magnificent creations. 

Nevertheless, it tore her heart to see her love slowly grow weaker with each new creature birthed. Earth's speech began to slow and his wisdom fade. The sight of her decaying love enflamed a rage deep in Moon, a rage she was not fully comfortable with. But the violent emotion conquered any doubt, and in her fury, she seized an asteroid from the stars and hurled it at her love.

Earth bellowed in pain, but his screams only encouraged Moon. After all, she did it for his well-being. A great shroud of dust covered his surface, blocking his precious creatures from the sun's rays. They perished by the billions. 

And yet, after all the death Moon had inflicted, she was left empty. Her love had reduced her to a monster, forcing her own ideals onto Earth.

Moon yielded to his wishes that fateful day, when Earth shuddered and gave the last of his life force to his creation. She would protect the creatures, not out of love, but out of remembrance for a lost love torn asunder by envy.

The Black and the White

            By the color of their fur, they declared each other enemies. The black-furred rabbits and the white-furred, brothers and sisters of the same breed, yet their hearts held nothing but disdain for their brethren.

            The two colors put vast swaths of land between their communities, refusing to pass within the borders of the other colors land. Those that did were met with only violence. The meadow they dwelled in was large, bordered on all sides by great trees. Often, the rabbits of different color would assemble on the very opposite sides of the meadow, only to gawk at one another and hurl insults, promoting nothing but hatred.

            But then one day, a threat entered the meadow. The threat took the form of an immense snake, whose coils stretched a great distance across the land; with a wretched hiss, the scaled fiend declared his name. Hatred.

            Twisting his way through the long grass, Hatred devoured rabbits of all colors, feasting indiscriminately. Fleeing was futile, for the snake slithered too fast. Fighting proved worthless, for his scales were too thick to damage. The rabbits rallied against the great beast, but without the two colors cooperating, their resistance proved futile.
            Soon, naught a rabbit remained in the meadow. Hatred had consumed their entire breed, leaving none to carry the memory of the black and the white.

The Great Hunt

            The disease crippled their bodies beyond recognition, leaving their flesh to hang in rags by their sides and their blood to coat their once white fur. The bloodied, they were called. But it hadn’t always been so.

Once, they were a clan of mice living in the heart of the forest, but now, they had been forced to the very outskirts of the land they loved. The disease had ensured their fate as outcasts.

            But hope remained in their hearts, for a cure had been found. One of their members, a wizened mouse of advanced age, had stumbled upon a gold-skinned frog resting in a pool of water contained within a fallen leaf. The frog had been small, small enough for the mouse to quickly dominate in the fight that ensued.

            The mouse soaked his skin in the slain frog’s blood, cleansing the disease from his body. For the first time in years, the old mouse saw the white of his fur and the smooth skin underneath, no longer decaying.

            It was a miracle.

            The clan of mice seized sharp pebbles and set out to hunt the gold-skinned frogs. The cure in sight, they knew their chance for freedom from misery had arrived.

            Though nimble, the frogs could not out pace the mice. The mice cornered them against trees and buried the frogs beneath a rain of stones, or when desperate, even savaged the amphibians with their rotting teeth.

            The frogs begged for mercy once they realized the extent of the devastation being wrought on their kind. But their pleas fell on deaf ears. Too enraptured with the promise of a cure, the bloodied harvested the blood of the frogs, bathing in the crimson liquid.

            Then one day, when the mice went out to hunt, there were no gold-skinned frogs. Only skeletons remained of the rare species, pale tributes to an extinct race.

            The no-longer-bloodied gathered together, to strategize about the future of their clan. With the frogs extinct, there was no cure for their ailment, but it mattered not. The last of the mice had been cured. Or so it seemed.

            Time passed, and the familiar traits of their affliction gradually returned, until soon, the disease violently erupted amongst their ranks, this time claiming the lives of those it struck. Within days, the entire clan had succumbed, their bones mixing with those of the gold–skinned frogs.

To be Loved by a Wolf

Sleet the lone wolf stalked forward on four paws, sniffing the air. His quarry was grievously injured, leaving a thin trail of crimson blood in her wake, a bright contrast with the green grass of summer. But his eyes only served him minimally. His nose did the real work, tracing an invisible path of blood particles hovering in the air. But even more so, his nose traced the stench of his quarry’s dirtied fur, just over the cusp of a looming hill.

Sleet was close to Mad Hare. So close.

As Sleet surmounted the top of the hill and gained a full view of the valley below, immediately, he noticed a peculiar sight. Despite her injuries, Mad Hare danced through the meadow, leaping and bounding, twisting and turning. The sight held an odd beauty. As if in a dream, Mad Hare twirled through the tall grass, the weeds and the flowers. Everything focused on her, watched her. The trees seemed to lean in her direction. The birds halted their songs and watched in stunned silence. Even the sun seemed to shine brighter around her, as if she had captured its attention.

Sleet bared his teeth, emitting a low growl of triumph. His quarry loomed completely exposed. An opportunity had presented itself, an opportunity Sleet knew he must grasp, if he hoped to rest easily at night. The ground tore beneath his paws as he rushed forth, towards Mad Hare.

A shadow loomed overhead; the other predator had spotted the tempting morsel. The shadow belonged to a great eagle, the same one responsible for Mad Hare’s injuries. Time was not on Sleet’s side. He knew how fast the eagle could strike.

Redoubling his efforts, Sleet desperately hurried forward, keeping both eyes focused on Mad Hare. There was nothing he could do to stop the eagle from reaching her first, but maybe he could snatch her away before the eagle carried her off.

The eagle seized Mad Hare with his outstretched talons, his wings beating downwards in dramatic fashion, halting his flight a mere foot from the ground. Sleet collided with the bird, snapping his jaws at the eagle’s neck.

They wrestled on the ground in a flurry of violence, each vying for domination. Through the corner of his eyes, Sleet noticed that Mad Hare had halted her dance and watched the struggle, her head tilted askew as if in contemplation.

Ignoring the talons digging into his sides, Sleet wrapped his jaws around the eagle’s neck and bit down. His tongue lapped up warm blood as his fangs lacerated tendons.

Dead, the eagle fell from Sleet’s jaws.

Mad Hare regarded him with wide eyes. “You came for me.”

Sleet laughed bitterly, falling to the ground where he lay on his side, painfully gasping. The eagle had torn great swaths of his fur away, tearing at the flesh and vital organs below. He shot a look at Mad Hare. “Did you truly doubt my devotion? You may be a rabbit, but I am still your guardian, my love.”
           Mad Hare leaned in close to Sleet, letting her body collapse onto his. They breathed as one, neither moving as the sun vanished beneath the horizon and darkness overtook the land.