Honey Shroom's Arc

Chapter 7 of 11

Honey Shroom stood with his back to the barricade and watched the cracked ground. The hum behind him was a wall of sound. The hum below was deeper, closer. Whatever had driven the lion out was still climbing. He had one chance to be ready before it reached the surface again. He wiped his palms on his coat and listened, slow and careful, for the next shift in the dirt. He had not been idle. A tall metal watchtower stood at the trench's lip, narrow slits cut into its sides. He had built it overnight, piece by piece, to hold a view no one else would take. Around the hives, a chain link wall now ringed the barricade, posts driven deep, warning signs nailed to the wire. The bees could not pass it. Nothing surfacing could pass it either, not without him seeing first. At the trench's edge sat a heavy pail of golden honey, lid off, scent rising thick into the warm air. He had staged it as bait and as a test. Whatever climbed out would smell it first. If it took the honey, he would know it was hungry. If it ignored the honey, he would know it was hunting. He crouched beside the pail and waited. The dirt shifted. A claw broke the surface. Then a second. A long, scaled snout pushed up through the crack, tasting the air. It was a serpent, thick as his arm, eyes flat and yellow. It ignored the honey. It turned its head toward the hives. Honey Shroom moved before he thought, slamming the lid back on the pail and shouting once, sharp. The serpent froze, then slid sideways into the brush and was gone. He stood alone at the trench, breathing hard. He had his answer. The threat was not a thing that ate. It was a thing that hunted bees.