Ant's Arc

Chapter 8 of 12

The path curved upward into steeper ground. Ant followed it because there was nowhere else to go. The leaf sat against his back, its weight familiar but no longer quite the same. He knew now that it had been placed there on purpose. Not as cruelty. Not as accident. Someone had chosen to give it to him. The trail opened into a clearing. A stone building stood at the center, silent and solid. Wide steps led to carved doors. Ant stopped at the bottom and looked up. The building felt old, like it had been waiting. A wooden bench sat off to the side, crooked and worn. Deep notches marked the seat in groups of three. Someone had counted something here. Days, maybe. Or visits. Ant walked to the bench and climbed onto it. The notches ran the length of the wood, hundreds of them. He touched one with his leg and felt the groove where a blade had cut. Each mark was deliberate. Each one meant someone had been here and decided to stay long enough to carve. The leaf pressed against his back, and he understood. If it had been placed by choice, it could be removed by choice. But not like before. Not by walking away and hoping it would stay gone. He looked at the stone building again. The doors were closed. He did not know what was inside or if it would help. But he knew he could not remove the leaf alone in the grass and expect it to mean anything. He needed to prepare. He needed to understand what he was carrying before he could set it down for good. Ant climbed off the bench and walked toward the doors. The leaf stayed on his back, but now he carried it toward something instead of away.