Day Seventy-Four, New Members (Part Two)

Yes, it is dead!

I wonder if it is the same snarling little creature I had a brief encounter with last time.

It has been dead for a while; its corpse is crawling with tiny insects. Half of its body is wedged inside the honeycomb of the decaying tree trunk, plugging the hole completely. I had imagined there might be some bees flying around outside, but there are none! Not a single bee is in flight. Instead, there are many bees clustered around its body on the ground, gathered in groups of hundreds or thousands.

As I drew closer, I formed a rough theory: this little creature, which had tried to attack me before, must have been stung to death by these bees. Perhaps it was too greedy, shoving half its body inside, only to get stuck and unable to retreat, leaving it helpless against the bees' stings.

If the number of bees were small, it might not have been a major issue, but the creature was unlucky. This hive is massive—I knew from when I harvested honey last time that there were surely thousands of them. If not for the cover of smoke, I would never have dared to beard the lion in its den.

Sigh. A perfectly good beehive ruined by this bold and reckless creature. My reliable honey-harvesting spot is gone! One can only imagine how difficult it is to find a hive like this.

If only I had shot it yesterday. Sighing after a moment of regret, I still held onto a glimmer of hope: could there be any surviving bees in the hive?

The carcass was starting to smell, and I had no idea if maggots would spill out if I nudged it. Touching it with my hands was out of the question, and I didn't want to use my axe either. It was just too repulsive.

In the end, I cut a long branch, attempting to pry the creature’s body away. I was desperate to see the outcome—was the hive completely destroyed, or were there any survivors left?

Its skin must have been thick and its fur slippery, as the branch kept sliding off every time I pushed. Eventually, I had to sharpen the tip of the branch to get a grip. It seemed to be wedged in tight; I tried several angles but couldn't budge it.

It was such a hassle. Finally, growing impatient and irritated, I threw the branch aside, grabbed the creature’s tail, and pulled with all my might.

I used too much force. The moment it came free, the momentum carried through, causing me to fall backward. Although I tried to steady myself, I landed hard on my backside.

It hurt! But what was worse was the disgust—the corpse flew straight into my arms. The stiff body, the wriggling insects, and the tiny flies swarming from its fur all scattered onto my clothes and arms.

Needless to say, I leapt up as if I were on fire. I flung the carcass aside and frantically swatted at my clothes and even my face, trying to knock off the insects.

It was absolutely revolting, enough to make me retch. These insects were tiny—even smaller than maggots, but they looked exactly like them. I was terrified of them crawling into my clothes. The sensation of it was beyond imagination.

Even after I finished swatting, I still felt uncomfortable, as if bugs were crawling all over me. Even though I stripped off my clothes and patted down my entire body, the feeling persisted.

Although I knew it was likely psychological, I couldn't shake it. Then, I suddenly saw bees emerging from the hole in the trunk. There weren't many, but I kept counting them.

I saw at least thirty bees fly out, and there could be more inside. Since there were survivors, I hoped they would thrive. Perhaps my wish worked; another few dozen crawled out at once.

In total, there were perhaps over a hundred. I don't know how long it would take for them to reach their previous scale, but as long as they didn't relocate, there would eventually be honey again.

I could afford to wait a while longer. Thinking about the sheer intensity of the battle that had taken place, I couldn't help but click my tongue in awe.

I took one last look at the hive before preparing to leave. From the outside, it didn't look too badly damaged. Whether there was enough honey left for these survivors to feed on and stay alive, I couldn't say.

I couldn't even be sure if they would move away because of this. All I could do was check back in a while. If they were still there, it meant I could harvest honey; if not, I would have to look for another large, stable hive. Though they aren't easy to find, how could anyone obsessed with honey refuse to try?

Not long after I turned to leave, I came back. I don't know what possessed me, but I decided to bury the little creature. As for why, I couldn't even answer that myself. Maybe it was because of how cute it looked when it was alive? Or because of that brief encounter?

I wasn't sure, and I wasn't even certain if this was the same creature. But once the thought struck me, I couldn't resist the urge to come back and dig a pit to bury it.

With the axe, the hole was dug quickly. But having had enough of the disgusting insects on its body, I used two branches—one under its head and one under its belly—to lift it and place it into the hole.

I covered it with soil, a good deed done. Only then did I realize why I had done it. Yes, I understood!

It was because of myself! I thought of Little Black’s former master, left there exposed, without a final resting place. Associating that with my own future, I felt a sudden pang of sentimentality, which led me to bury the little creature.

As I prepared to leave again, there was some movement in the grass nearby. It immediately put me on guard!

Was it a snake? A companion of the creature? A lizard? Some unknown beast?

I gripped my axe tightly, raising it, and curiosity compelled me to take two steps forward. The grass stopped moving, but just as I was about to turn back, it stirred once more. The position, however, had not changed.

I couldn't suppress my curiosity. The grass wasn't tall—only about a dozen centimeters—so after some thought, I decided to go over and take a look.

I wasn't reckless, though. I turned back to cut another branch; if it were a snake, getting too close would be dangerous, and the branch would serve as a probe.

...

"Dead? It doesn't seem to be moving anymore!"

...

"It's not dead!" It's moving!