Chapter 1645 – The Snail Procession

For Theresant, the slow ‘march’ of the snails through the fortress was agonising. At every turn, she would fret and worry. What if they hurt themselves? What if some soldier came blundering around the corner and stood on them? What if they were getting tired?

Yet she was powerless to intervene. She knew as well as anyone that locking the chal up within the snailcare centre would only result in them staring at the door once more, putting them right back where they started.

She had no choice but to let them do whatever it was they were so determined to do. Hopefully the grubs never started acting like this, or she wouldn’t be able to deal with the stress. The very thought of having to shepherd a group of stubborn grubs through a nest was enough to make her start cleaning her antennae to soothe herself.

Even more irritating, Florence, alongside her, seemed to be having a wonderful time. Clacking her mandibles enthusiastically and cheering on the chal as they slid along at their slow, dignified pace.

“Don’t encourage them,” Theresant snapped.

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Florence laughed. “Whether I encourage them or not, they’re going to keep doing what they’re doing regardless. I may as well be positive about the whole thing, it’s better than hovering about bringing down the mood.”

“I’m just concerned.”

“Of course. I still don’t see what you think is going to happen to them. They’re in the middle of the fortress! We have Brood Tenders running ahead to make sure the way is clear and everyone is being very patient and respectful,” she gestured to the waiting ants watching the little procession move past with fascination.

“Yet we still don’t know what they want to do,” Theresant warned her sister. “This is the first time they ever showed any intention to leave the room, and we don’t know why.”

“I hardly think they’re going to try and fling themselves into the fifth stratum to fight,” Florence said, “and if they try to do something dangerous, we will intervene.”

What she said made perfect sense, yet Theresant still couldn’t shake the worry that nibbled at the back of her mind. Regardless, she had no choice but to follow as the chal slid through the tunnels, turning this way and that as they homed in on… something.

At their slow pace, the chal continued on their way for hours while Theresant oscillated between light worry and borderline panic. Eventually, the chal hesitated for a moment before finally committing to a direction. Only this time, there was a problem.

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“Oh,” Florence said as another Tender reported back to her.

“Oh? Oh what?” Theresant asked.

“Apparently we aren’t able to clear the chamber ahead.”

“Well then, we have to stop the hatchlings,” Theresant replied immediately. “We can’t allow them to go somewhere that isn’t safe.”