My land-clearing project was progressing at an unexpectedly quick pace on account of the ants absconding with all the stumps.
What the hell are they gonna use them all for, anyway?
My gaze followed Shuri as the ant disappeared inside the nest once again. The entryway was large—easily large enough for me to go through too. Curiosity got the better of me, and I shuffled to the edge, peering down. It was deep; that much I could see. The temperature inside seemed much colder for some reason.
Must be my imagination. Yeah.
The wolves had apparently gone hunting while I’d been experimenting with salt, for they showed up soon after with a fresh lot of meat for me to process. Once again, they’d gone a bit overboard with the “supply” part of “supply and demand.” As always, I was thankful for magic. I’d be screwed if I had to butcher everything by hand.
I teleported the largest of the fresh carcasses over to the wolves’ feeding area and prepared it in the usual way: blood drained (by me), skinned (by the Gremlins), and, of course, with all organs intact.
Incidentally, the Gremlins had started popping up out of nowhere every time I butchered a carcass. I’d never sense their presence, probably because they were dolls. I’d just turn around to find them staring up at me, which, of course, scared the crap out of me every time.
Nearly done. I turned to start on the last carcass, only to find it gone.
“Um...” I’m sure there was still one to go... Ah.
Tracks led away from where I’d last seen the carcass, like something had been dragged along the ground—right into Shuri’s nest.
Wait, are ants carnivores?
I started walking back over to the hole but froze as a swarm of antlets began to emerge, each of them covered in blood. It was like something from a nightmare. Feigning nonchalance, I averted my eyes and slowly backed away.
Nope, nothing to see here!
Instead, I turned my attention back to the stumpless, bumpy clearing. Even with the hide-drying section that the Gremlins had marked out, there was a lot of space to spare—but if I wanted to use it for anything, I had to first figure out how to deal with the potholes. Despite my attempt to ignore them, the antlets immediately began scuttling right into my line of vision—and tunneling down into the earth.
“Er...”
Bewildered, I could do little but watch as the ground began to shift.
They’re... What are they doing?
Eventually, it became clear. The dirt trembled and flattened as the holes disappeared one by one. The ants were plowing the soil.
I guess farmers do sometimes add insects to their fields to aerate the soil. I think they usually use worms, but I’ve heard about ants being used too. I don’t think they’re meant to be this fast though... They’re racing around under there.
Well, they’d tilled a giant plot for me, but I didn’t know what to do with it. In Japan, this would be prime real estate for growing vegetables, but I didn’t have any seeds. Come to think of it, I hadn’t even come across any root or tuber vegetables.
Maybe I should ask Shuri? Ants should know a lot about what goes on underground.
“Shuri?”
A blood-covered face poked out of the nest.
Pretending not to notice it, pretending not to notice it...
Squatting in front of the giant ant, I drew a diagram in the soil of a vegetable growing under the earth.
Ants are pretty smart. I’m sure it’ll understand— Hang on. This is just a line and a circle!
Cursing myself internally, I fleshed out the diagram with some charades, pointing to the circle and miming eating it.
“Do you know where I can find some vegetables that grow in the dirt?”
Visions of potatoes, yams, radishes, and other delicious root and tuber vegetables danced across my mind. Seeds or the crops themselves—I’d be happy with either. The vegetables I knew in Japan were just wild plants that had undergone selective breeding; surely I’d be able to find something of the wild variety in a forest this size.
Shuri tilted its head curiously.
It’s got no idea what I’m saying. Or maybe root vegetables aren’t a thing here... Oh, they’re leaving.
Shuri and the antlets scuttled off into the forest, quickly followed by (for some reason) the baby spiders.
Maybe it did understand me after all. For simplicity’s sake, I’ll assume it did. Don’t work too hard, though! And stay safe!
Karen returned home. I hadn’t seen the bird for three days, and I’d been starting to worry.
I was still a little worried, actually. Karen had grown in the time it had been away. It had been pretty small, so a little growth was normal—good, even. But not this much.
Somehow, the bird had tripled in size—if not more. When I’d last seen Karen, it had been the size of a sparrow, a small sparrow.