There was no sense of triumph in the unremarkable spoils obtained in his victory, leaving him to wipe his daggers off on one of the tall blades of grass.
'How long am I going to remain small like this? I'm not exactly a fan of fighting for my life against rats,' he questioned.
There was no choice but to step into the grass, as though entering a cornfield. Everything felt off when experiencing the world from the perspective of an ant; the blades of grass swayed at twice his height, throwing his sense of scale off completely.
'I wonder if the others have noticed I'm gone yet. Just hope they aren't freaking out—I'll get back, somehow,' he thought while traversing the towering field.
He did his best to wipe off the blood from the slain vermin as he moved, finding the smell unpleasant. It was hard to see anything around him with how much taller the grass was, leaving him heading north in hopes of it working out.
