For a Gush of Fresh Bloood

—O Rancor? Line? (No response.) Where’d you scuttle off to? Noon sun floated high, but clouds and mist left the grasslands awash in gray. In faint wind, the land roiled like an lake with sharp green waves. The stalks didn’t reach her katathorax — dangerous place for the hive to operate, but such was the only territory left to claim. By rule, all who left the tunnels by day wore concealing cloaks —…