One of the worker ants of Yura was approached by a fairyfly, subject to Dakinrīsh, who himself is a close servant of Dhīb. The fairyfly, Kóçik, was a small squeaking dot in the face of the ant; all the ants, big or small, towered the fairyfly.
The ant carried a browning leaf, straying from its colleagues, hence the fairyfly's arrival and intent.
'Hey, ant!' Called the landing Kóçik, 'Are you a Lasius or a Tarsalis?' Asked the fairyfly.
'Y'dare callin' me a Tarsalis, Midaefly?' Snarked the ant, 'Awudn't dare call me self a Tarsalis, heh! Am but a wee Lasius, Midaefly. . .' the ant admitted.
'Well, Sir, first of all, I am not a Midaefly. I am, likewise, a wee Maridae – although, my apologies for all insects tower my kind no matter their size.' Replied the fairyfly.
'S'yer sayin' tha'am a larzh insect eyh?'
'For my standards, yes, Sir Lasius.'
'Call me Dotnik, will ya?'
The fairyfly approached the ant and asked, unconcerned, 'Have you heard of anything out of the ordinary lately?'
'Ayh. . . Well. . . Th'fyerflyes n' th'bees 'ad quite the ba'le as a've 'eard from a turtle feller.'
'And?' Kóçik crossed his four free legs out of six.
'Ther'all dead! Ba ma'King. . . a've never 'eard of such a bloo'y ou'come of a conflict be'ween insects. Rather sad, I'd seh. . .'
'Very well,' nodded the fairyfly, flying front and above the ant's head level, 'your insight is appreciated, Mister Lasius.' And he flew, but before he was out of reach, he added, 'Oh! And your leaf is browning!'
'Arkh! Darn it.' The ant complained, but it kept the leaf since the anthill was near anyway, or as he thought.
The fairyfly spy now set a flight to reach the bee's settlement. It's been said that they're less hostile to strangers than the fireflies; they hardly let anyone come near their river in Entomia, the land of the insects. The fairyfly persisted in arriving at the bee's colony. The flight was tedious for such a tiny bug, yet for a Mavríllan creature, its devotion to the Mavro and its Prophet, the Last Wolf, Dhīb, is imprinted within its mindset. Kóçik is as devoted to his master owl as he is to the wolf. And when the spy arrived at the hill, he saw the hive-ridden tree. There were no bees in sight but caretakers and larvae. It arrived at the royal hive. Its silence was ominous, even for the dark fairyfly.
'Hello?' Called the fairyfly, treading out of the royal hive, 'Bees of the Hill?'
A lone caretaker bee arrived. He was a late-aged bee, 'Who's there?' The bee asked.
And to Kóçik's annoyance, while keeping his composure, he called back, 'Down here!'
'I see you. . .' taunted the bee, 'What is your business here, Mari. . .dae?'
'I come to seek audience with your master.' Demanded the fairyfly.
'And what for?'
'I carry a massage for your—'
'Well now, Maridae, we haven't seen our King in days. He could be dead!' Exclaimed the caretaker bee enthusiastically,
'His whereabouts, Sir bee?'
'I've no idea. I heard of an invasion to our firefly neighbours – isn't that right, Āzul?' The bee sought confirmation from another caretaker bee. She replied from above in the larvae hive, 'Aye! Sounds like the outcome of our last battle with the Tarsalises – come over and help me with the babies, Azzūl, please? They're making a scene.'
The bee shrugged to the fairyfly and flew away, attending to his female co-worker in attending the baby bees. Kóçik was dissatisfied; 'their behaviour isn't that different from our bees," he thought. He then flew, seeking the firefly's settlement, asking stray insects, even a hummingbird he met on the way to the river.
It was a bird in constant nervousness and alertness, looking around in all directions several times a minute with poor eye contact. The hummingbird answered, 'Oh, uh! Erm. . . fireflies! I've been told not to approach – oh well!' He kept jabbering, stuttering awfully, 'Yes, the river! Was it west or east from here. . . Oh well, um. . . follow me! I can take you there – good ol' Túnon here is already astray, heh, and free of errands!'
The fairyfly smiled in disbelief, but it nicely asked, 'Thank you in advance – perhaps you let a weak little Maridae ride your back?'
'By all means! Come on now. Hopefully, we will find your goal! Sit tight, heh, I may be a tad quick in my movements!'
'Very well, Mister Túnon. . .' Kóçik gave in to the noisiness of the hummingbird, but it was the best way to continue his investigation of the outworldly force prophesied by the Last Wolf.