The Hunt For Home
Hundreds of eyes open at once. Drums of the hunt are rumbling through the nest. Pupae walls pulsate with awakened larva that have finally come of age. The flies emerge with their brethren, ready to make their ancestors proud. Antennae bask in muddy face paint on the forest floor, the first ceremony of the hunt. The nutrients of the nest are depleted, it is time to find a new home. Wings stretch, then hum their primal hunting song. Every brain cell is set on finding a nest that will support generations for weeks to come. Time to assume formation, taking flight in a disciplined every direction imaginable.
Many fall. Crushed by torrents of wind, beaten senseless by tails of massive beasts, caught in deadly pellets of rain, or eaten without warning by scaly predators. By the time the sun has made its way to the other side of the horizon, all have been lost but one.
This lone survivor flies on through the forest. She is running on fumes. Her wings are torn, frame already starting to shrivel from lack of nutrients. Reminding herself of her payload, the huntress carries on. Further and further. An aimless exploration with no sign of food worth even stopping to snack on. There is no place capable of supporting the tribe. She settles on a waving blade of grass, folds her aching wings, and closes her eyes to wait for the day to end.
A whiff, a slight sense from the breeze. Forgetting her aching wings, the huntress lifts off towards the smell of the ultimate prize. Could it be the promised land the ancients told of? The smell disappears. Doubt creeps back into her mind. But then another breeze brings a fresh wave of the glorious aroma. The marvelous mound of plenty that could provide for countless offspring. Winds buffet her to the side in a sweeping change of direction. The smell is gone again. She lands to wait for another favorable breeze, mind now back in the hunt with all her senses tingling. Here it comes again, the smell is overwhelmingly close this time.
There it is, a landing right at the source of that heavenly stench. She hurries to the surface to make sure it has the nutrients it advertises. Salt, dirt, skin…. A large shadow looms overhead. She had landed right on a creature! Its monstrous claw descends from above, marking her impending doom by blotting out the sun. Somehow her beaten wings spring into action, catching the gush of wind out from underneath the claw before it claps against her landing zone. She twirls wildly out of control, spinning down to the ground beneath the crouching legs of the beast.
Warm… Moist… Through a daze she tastes the surface, one last test to see if she is worthy to carry on the tribe…
A blast of flavor. nutrients from all types of sources imaginable, combined into one lump of fuel for life. She had made it to the promised land, left behind by the same creature that almost killed her. Laying her eggs as was customary at the end of a successful hunt, the fading mother huntress takes a deep gulp of her success. Then she breaths her last, giving up her nutrients for the tribe’s new home.
