Angela Ant's Arc

Chapter 1 of 4

Angela Ant stood at the edge of the oak root and looked across the garden toward the cottage where Summer Sun lived. She wanted to visit. That was the whole trouble. Ants in her colony did not visit the big creatures. They hid from them. Angela had already broken that rule once, when she walked away from the witch and chose Summer Sun instead. Now she wanted to keep choosing her. She wanted a real friendship, the kind you show up for on an ordinary afternoon with no emergency to explain you. The problem was simple and awful. Summer Sun was enormous. Angela was the size of a seed. If she crawled up onto the cottage step unannounced, Summer Sun might not see her at all. Worse, she might see a dark speck moving near her door and brush it away before she looked twice. One flick of a hand and the trust they had built would end without either of them knowing why. Angela climbed down and started back toward the colony. Her sister Tracie was hauling a crumb along the path. "I need to be seen," Angela said. "Bright. From far away. So she knows it is me before I get close." Tracie set the crumb down. "There is a scrap by the fence. Yellow. Fell off a picnic thing last week." Angela found it caught on a thorn. A strip of shiny yellow cloth, longer than her body and light as a petal. She dragged it free and worked one end into a loop she could wear across her back. The cloth caught the sun and threw it everywhere. She could barely see past her own shoulder for the glare. She was crossing the flat stones toward the cottage when a shadow cut the light. Matilda stood on the path in her ragged black robes, hat tilted, looking down. "That yellow will get you eaten by a bird," Matilda said. Flat. No warmth. "Take it off." Angela did not stop walking. "I want her to see me." "She will. So will everything else." "I know what I chose." Matilda watched her another moment, then stepped aside. She did not argue again. Angela kept going, the yellow sash flashing at every step, and she felt the witch's eyes on her back the whole way to the cottage door. Summer Sun was on the step already, watering a pot. She saw the yellow before she saw the ant. Her whole face changed. "Angela." She crouched low and set her palm flat on the stone, fingers spread wide, well clear of Angela's path. "You wore a flag." "So you would know it was me." "Anytime you wear that," Summer Sun said, "I will know. Come up." Angela climbed onto the warm palm. Behind her, on the path, the witch was already gone.