The ant wandered. It didn't remember how it got here. The colony was far behind, but the trail of familiar smells had stopped, swallowed by something it didn't understand. The world was too big. The towering grass stalks stretched like trees, trapping the sky and the sun in the cracks between their blades.
A breeze blew. It was cold. The ant had never felt cold. It pressed itself into the dirt, tiny legs trembling. The scent of its colony—the familiar chemical trail—was gone. Panic dug into the back of its mind, something primal, something that told it that without the colony, it was nothing.
It could hear sounds, too. The distant rustle of creatures moving, the shift of leaves, the flutter of wings. The ground beneath it felt wrong, too soft, too loose. It wasn't the safe, familiar dirt of the tunnels. It was loose earth, a constant reminder that the world above was alive, hungry.
There were things here. The ant didn't see them, but it could feel them, the vibrations in the soil, the ripples in the air. Every so often, it would hear something moving, and its heart would stop. The smallest twigs cracked like bones, and the ant would freeze, hoping, praying, that whatever was out there didn't notice it.
Everywhere it looked, the ground seemed to open, swallowing up the path. There was no way back. Every turn seemed to bring the same sickening emptiness. The familiar smells, the sound of its fellow ants, all gone. The colony was a distant memory, now fading like something that had never existed at all.
The small creature crawled forward. Each movement felt slower, like it was dragging something behind it. The world outside the colony was big, and it was dangerous. It had only learned how to survive by following the others, but now it was alone.
Then, it saw something. A glint in the dirt. The ant froze. A tiny piece of something—shiny, metallic. It approached cautiously. The reflection was too clear, too bright. There was a glint from above, and before it could react, a shadow passed.
The ant flinched. Something massive dropped from the sky, casting a deep darkness over it. It wasn't a leaf. It wasn't a twig. It was... something bigger. A claw.
The ant scrambled, legs kicking wildly as it tried to escape. It was too late. The sharp point of the claw pierced its back, lifting it from the ground with horrifying ease. The pain was unbearable, but there was nothing it could do. No other ants to call. No walls to retreat into.
The creature holding it pulled it higher, exposing it fully. Its tiny body twitched in terror. The world around it had become a blur of sharp, terrifying sounds. There was a hum, a low noise of hunger.
The ant could only scream inside its own mind. Its body went limp as the claw slowly twisted, tearing at its delicate exoskeleton. The world was so cold now. So empty.
The claw released its grip, dropping the mangled remains to the ground. The ant's tiny legs twitched once, twice, and then the earth swallowed it whole.
It died alone, forgotten.