Honey Shroom's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

Honey Shroom stood at the meadow's edge, watching the hive boxes he'd placed among the wildflowers. The bees should have been calm this late in the afternoon. Instead, they poured from the entrance in tight spirals, their hum sharp and high. A brown bear lumbered across the meadow, its massive paws pressing wildflowers flat behind it. Honey Shroom had seen bears before. They ripped hives apart for honey, and bees attacked them without mercy. But these bees weren't attacking. They curved away from the bear in waves, keeping their distance but not retreating to the hive. They followed it like a cloud. The bear stopped near a patch of clover and set down a glass jug. Amber liquid sloshed inside. It dipped one thick claw into the opening and brought it to its mouth. The bees tightened their circle. Their hum dropped lower, steadier. Honey Shroom stepped closer through the trampled path the bear had left. He could smell it now — sweet, floral, wrong. Not honey. Something else. The bear moved on, taking the jug with it. The bees didn't follow. They hung in the air where the jug had been, circling nothing. Honey Shroom watched them spiral tighter and tighter until they finally turned back toward the hive. Their formation was different now. Looser. Uncertain. He understood then: the disruption wasn't something he had done. It was something the bees were trying to tell him.