Angela Ant's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Angela Ant crouched behind a curl of bramble and watched the crooked cottage door. She had promised herself she would not come here again. She had promised Summer Sun, too. Yet here she stood, six ant-lengths from the witch's step, because Matilda had left a trail of sugar crumbs that led straight from the oak tree to this door. Angela's colony feared every large creature in the garden. Angela did not. She wanted to be a friend to the biggest, brightest creature of all — Summer Sun, who had never once been cruel to her. But Matilda's spells kept catching her feet like spider silk, and Angela was tired of being caught. The door opened. Matilda stood in the gap, gray hair tangled with twigs, green eyes fixed on Angela. "You came," Matilda said. Flat. Not a question. "Good. I need small hands. Inside." Angela's legs moved before her mind did. One step. Two. The sugar smelled warm. Matilda's voice pulled like a hook behind her ribs. This was how it always went. Follow. Fetch. Stir. Then Summer Sun would find her later, tired and ashamed, and forgive her anyway. Angela stopped on the threshold. "What do you need me for," Angela said. "Doesn't matter. Come in." "It matters to me." Matilda's mouth tightened. "A jar. High shelf. You climb. That's all." Angela looked past Matilda into the cottage. She saw a cracked bowl. A book with a broken lock. A bundle of dried roots meant for a spell against Summer Sun. She had seen enough of these rooms to know one when she stood in it. "No," Angela said. Matilda blinked. "No?" "No. I'm not coming in. Not today. Not the next day." "You always come in." "I know." Angela's voice shook, then steadied. "That's why I'm stopping." Matilda leaned down. Her breath smelled of smoke and old tea. "Summer Sun won't want a friend who wasted this many chances." Angela felt the words land. She held still until they slid off. "She already does," Angela said. "That's the part you never understood." She turned and walked back down the sugar trail. Behind her, the door slammed hard enough to shake a bramble loose. Angela did not look back. She walked until the cottage was gone from sight, then kept walking, until the meadow opened and she saw a bright shape spinning through the sunflowers. Summer Sun stopped mid-step when she saw Angela coming alone, on her own feet, with no crumbs stuck to her. "You walked past it," Summer Sun said. "I walked past it." Summer Sun did not cheer. She only held out her hand, palm flat, the way one offers a hand to something small and brave. Angela climbed on. Behind them, in the bramble cottage, Matilda was already pulling the broken-locked book down from the shelf and turning to a new page.