The moss patch was mine now, though I wasn't sure it felt like much of a victory. Crag was gone. His body lay slumped in the damp soil near the bark, his massive form no longer moving. I had passed by him earlier, testing his stillness with cautious antennae, but there was no response. His shell, once so powerful, was now brittle, flecked with decay. The springtails had already found him, their tiny bodies swarming over the husk of what he used to be.
I didn't know if I was mourning him. Crag had dominated this world, taking what he wanted and leaving the rest of us to pick through the scraps. But his absence left a silence, a void that felt too large to fill. For all his size and strength, he had fallen just like the clover, just like everything else. It wasn't unfair—it was simply how things were.
The moss patch was thriving. The fibers stood tall and rich, fed by the moisture of the last misting. I grazed slowly, savoring the taste and the moisture it provided. It was the best it had been in days, and yet I couldn't shake the feeling that it wouldn't last. Nothing ever did.
My sibling had grown bolder since Crag's fall. They moved through the terrarium with a confidence I hadn't seen before, grazing openly and even venturing closer to the bark. We crossed paths occasionally, brushing antennae in silent acknowledgment before going our separate ways. We weren't allies, not really, but there was an unspoken understanding between us. We had both survived this long, and that was something.
The clover plant was gone now, reduced to a bare stalk and a few scattered fragments of leaves. Its absence left the terrarium feeling emptier, as if the world had lost one of its anchors. The springtails had swarmed over the clover's remains, breaking it down into the soil. Their numbers had grown, the terrarium buzzing with their constant motion. They were everywhere now, scuttling across the moss, the bark, even Crag's body.
I avoided the bark for the most part. It didn't feel like mine, even with Crag gone. The shadows there were too deep, the crevices too full of memories. Instead, I spent my days near the moss patch, exploring its edges and the spaces between the rocks. The rock on the far side of the terrarium had become a favorite spot of mine, a place to climb and observe the world below. From its surface, I could see the entire terrarium—the moss patch, the bark, the soil where the clover had once stood. It all felt so small from up there, yet so vast at the same time.
The next misting came with a suddenness that startled me. Water droplets pelted the glass, rolling down its surface in twisting streams. The moss soaked it up greedily, its fibers glistening with moisture. I pressed myself against the soil, feeling the dampness seep into my shell. It was life, this water, but it was also a reminder of how fragile that life could be. Too much, and the soil would flood, drowning the springtails and washing away the nutrients we depended on. Too little, and the moss would wither, the soil drying into a lifeless crust. The balance was delicate, always shifting.
The human caretaker was a shadow beyond the glass, their movements slow and deliberate as they adjusted the lid. They were a distant god to us, their presence felt but not understood. I didn't know if they saw me, if they noticed the way I moved through the terrarium. I doubted it. To them, I was just another part of the ecosystem, no different from the moss or the springtails. That thought comforted me, in a way. It made me feel… invisible.
One day, I found myself near Crag's body again. The springtails had done their work, leaving behind little more than a hollowed-out shell. I hesitated, my antennae twitching as I considered what I was about to do. It wasn't hunger that drove me—not exactly. It was something deeper, a need to reclaim what he had taken from this world. I lowered my mandibles to his shell, breaking off a small fragment. It was dry and tasteless, but it was nourishment. It was survival.
I didn't linger. The moss patch was calling, its fibers rich and inviting. I returned to its edges, grazing carefully as I watched the springtails dart around me. Their movements were frantic, their world shrinking as the resources they relied on dwindled. I wondered if they felt the same desperation I did, the same need to hold on to what little they had. Probably not. Their lives seemed simpler, their minds too small to grasp the enormity of what was happening around them.
My sibling joined me at the moss patch, their antennae brushing mine in greeting. We grazed side by side, our movements slow and deliberate. It was a rare moment of peace, the two of us sharing the same space without conflict. I wondered how long it would last. The terrarium was changing, its balance shifting with each passing day. The clover was gone, Crag was gone, and soon, I knew, one of us would be gone too.
The light above the terrarium dimmed, signaling the end of another day. The moss gleamed in the fading light, its fibers swaying gently as if in a breeze that didn't exist. The springtails retreated to the soil, their movements slowing as the darkness settled in. I stayed near the moss patch, burrowing into its edges as I prepared for the night.
The terrarium was quiet now, the silence broken only by the faint drip of water from the glass. I thought about Crag, about the clover, about the human caretaker who loomed beyond the glass. I thought about my sibling, their shell gleaming faintly in the dim light. I thought about myself, about the life I had carved out in this small, fragile world.
Nothing lasted forever. I knew that now. But for tonight, I was here. I was alive. And that was enough.